Scribble Issue 8 Feminism Edition by Shrewsbury High School

NOTE FROM THE

EDITORS

elcome to the 8th edition of Scribble, which we are delighted to be bringing to you towards the close of this school year. For this edition, we decided to go with the theme of feminism. As an editing team, we chose this theme in order to be able to create a magazine that discussed and celebrated female authors as well as the construction and portrayal of women in different genres of literature. There is an array of articles for you to indulge in, courtesy of our team of writers, with a piece on Pat Barker’s subversive retelling of the Iliad from the perspective of the enslaved princess Briseis by former Head Girl, Eleanor Pryce Boutwood. Her work joins that of resident editors Lily and Holly who explore the argument that Sansa Stark is a pivotal feminist character within ‘Game of Thrones’, and Cathy Ames’ status as the female antagonist of Steinbeck’s ‘East of Eden’ respectively. A loyal contributor to Scribble, librarian Miss Hale reveals to us the forgotten writers of Wales's literary history. One of our year 12 essayists, Clara Lee also adds her fascinating perspective on the polarizing novel ‘American Psycho’ and its relevance to our society in 2021. And, continuing with the theme, Maddy Chilcott writes an interesting article on Bernadine Evaristo’s ‘Girl, Woman, Other’, winner of the 2019 Booker Prize, and a vital rumination on the struggles of women across lines of class and race.

his edition is the last Scribble to be edited by us. Even though we will be sad to leave the team, we are confident in handing over the editorial roles to Aaina Jassel, Isabel Clarke and Libby Driscoll. These writers have all provided fantastic contributions to this edition; Iggy writes on Mary Astell, the first English feminist, whilst Aaina delves into the question of why we love ‘toxic’ men in our fiction. And last, but certainly not least, Libby supplies us with her own book review and recommendation along with suggestions from others to fill our reading lists over the summer! After taking over the role of editors from Kirsty Eades last year, we have been privileged to direct the magazine through numerous editions, it is something that has allowed us to explore and develop many new skills and we have high hopes for Scribble’s future. Finally, we have asked each

member of the new editing team to write a few lines to introduce themselves and you can read about this on page 9.

hank you so much for taking the time to read through this edition of Scribble. Hopefully you will enjoy it just as much as we have enjoyed pulling it together. It is here that we say a final goodbye to Scribble, as an editing team we will surely miss it! Holly Lovett Lily Harding Grace Turner

Editors Holly Lovett, Lily Harding, Grace Turner

Editorial Contributions Clara Lee, Alex Hale, Aaina Jassel Holly Lovett, Maddie Chillcott, Isabel Clarke, Elenor Pryce-Boutwood, Paula Tombs, Libby Driscoll, James Millichamp

Editoral Design & Typeset Tiffany Pardoe

Front Page Illustration Female of the Species Digital Art Grace Turner, Holly Lovett, Lily Harding (pictured left to right)

Published by Scribble, Shrewsbury High School 32 Town Walls, Shrewsbury, SY1 1TN

Contents 2 Welcome from the Editors 3 Contents 4 Amercian Psycho -The Male Projection on Women by Clara Lee 6 The Lost Voices of Welsh Women Writers by Alex Hale 10 Why do we fall for toxic men in Literature by Aaina Jassel 11 Scribble, Meet the New Editors 12 It’s a Fine Art: Women in a Man’s World by James Millichamp 16 Cathy Ames, A Female Antagonist by Holly Lovett 18 Girl, Women, Other by Maddie Chilcott 20 Why Sansa Stark Matters by Lily Harding 22 The First English Feminist by Isabel Clarke 28 Curiosity may kill the cat, but candor kills the classic epic by Eleanor Pryce-Boutwood 29 Scribble Feminist Reads 30 The Theatre Profession - Is it a role for Women? by Paula Tombs

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THE MALE PROJECTION ON WOMEN by Clara Lee weakness of men, and their own fragility projecting onto other women. Hence, as a female reader, it is hard to deny that Ellis isn’t actually promoting extreme misogyny - he is demonstrating it.

Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho, is a novel published in 1991 that ventures into the ideas of the middle-class white man during the 1980s economic crisis. It is brutal in its imagery and supposedly sexist in its nature; the pinnacle of all things that play a part in suppressing women in literature, and in reality. Since its release in 1991, many critics considered this novel’s appearance as pulp fiction with no introspection for women in literature. The novel follows the 1st person narration of Patrick Bateman, 27, an elite Manhattan business man who has an insatiable desire for violence, particularly towards women. This is intertwined with his frantic struggles to keep afloat to the conformity of male vanity.

In the novel, we are exposed to the multiple yet synchronised perspectives that Bateman and his colleagues have on women. During the beginning, the group of men leave one of their many ostentatious restaurants for a bar called ‘Pastles’. All of them decide to comment on a woman they’ve seen, sitting at a different table. They unanimously reject the idea of her beauty from the shape of her knees as “this unnoticeable ﬂaw now seems overwhelming”. I think what Ellis is trying to display here, is the extreme hypocrisy with the ideologies of what it means to be a ‘man’. Patrick is undoubtedly dramatizing ‘problems’ that are so irrelevant and completely fabricated by society. The ‘problems’ themselves are involving appearances that require no further thought, and yet he dwells on these aspects for a copious amount in the novel. Once more this emphasises the satirical foundation of the novel.

This novel was also made into a movie adaptation. Unsurprisingly, the movie had a similar reaction. It was directed by Mary Harron, who had the one and only feminist Gloria Steinem comment on the idea that Leonardo DiCaprio (who was originally chosen for the role) should NOT take up this opportunity: “there is an entire planet full of 13-year-old girls waiting to see what [he will] do next, and this is going to be a movie that has horrible violence toward women.”1 Subsequently, Christian Bale had ended up playing the role, who eventually became her step-son during the movie’s production.

The intense tone of this passage feels ironically comic; you are unable to shake off the feeling of how important it is to him. This leads us to Bateman’s frantic meltdown shortly after, about the material of a business card from another colleague. He is physically described as ‘sweating’ and becomes absolutely fixated on the card on the table, furious that Van Patten has a card made with “Eggshell with Romalian type”. Arguably, there are more flaws in Patrick’s pessimistic attitude than there is in any women we come across in this novel.

Nevertheless, for many feminist critics, American Psycho is shallow. It portrays the ideas of women through men: blonde, thin, mindless ‘creatures’ who are an accessory to a man’s pleasure. It is to believe that American Psycho controversially illuminates the

Patrick Bateman’s anger that surges from his own insecurities is then placed onto other women. He flaunts his desire for the ability to tune in to his primal urges after a long day of pretences; his insanity is an elevation of his conformity with the ideas that men ‘should’ have on women. Moreover, Patrick is never able to confess all the murders he may have committed – he is either misheard or ignored, just like many of the women who over the years have only been considered for their anatomy. However, you are left only to question whether he is actually committing these violent acts towards these people, which is illustrated when “blood starts pouring out of the ceiling … [he] has to see her shoes.” Nothing is certain in Bateman’s narration, which leads us to question not only his sanity, but the ideas that men in his position have. Why should we, as readers, take anything that is said about women in this novel as inherent truth? The only truth that we are left with, is that the men with ideas such as Patrick Bateman, are the ones who create a world where women are left to fight for the normality of equality. It is interesting to note that the value of women originates from his ideologies on the value of wealth. Bateman’s pride is the potion for skewed embodiment; his considerations of what is truly real. Whether that be the apparency of how he considers his morning routine to be equally, if not more important than the value of human life and the female population, or his formidable overriding ego. Patricia, one of the many women who are lured by his surface level attraction, according to Patrick is “safe because her wealth, her family’s wealth, protects her”. She is safe from an impulsive and frenzied attack that he may decide to execute. Undoubtedly, Patrick Bateman suffers from a severe God complex. Yet, when this is applied contextually, Patrick Bateman’s representation is hopefully, far removed from reality. Ellis admits that American Psycho “wouldn’t be published today” as a result of the progress that society has made on understanding the need for feminism in literature and in society. Nonetheless, this shouldn’t discredit the overruling conclusion: women still face this kind of torment by these kind of men. Simply put, Patrick Bateman is the combination of the cruel male ego; a representation of weak men projecting their insecurities onto women. Even Ellis himself claimed that this character was a image of himself and his abusive father. Perhaps, it is not as far removed as we would like to assume.

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The Lost Voices of Welsh Women’s Writing by Alex Hale

“

Honno Welsh Women’s Press was established in 1986 with the twin aims of increasing publication opportunities for Welsh women and expanding the audience for Welsh women’s writing.

None of the publishing houses in Wales were particularly interested in promoting women’s literature or writers, especially not in English. The inﬂuence of Virago and The Women’s Press led the way. But of course, Wales was different from England and there was a gap in the market in Wales for books which were relevant to the women of Wales, in both languages.” Rosanne Reeves, Honno founder member.

In the late 1990s the Honno Welsh Women’s Classics series was created to bring the lost voices of Welsh women writers to a new generation of readers. The success of the project has led to other publishing houses reprinting works by Welsh women writers. The first Honno Classic title to be reprinted was Queen of the Rushes: A Tale of the Welsh Revival by Allen Raine (1836-1908). Originally published in 1906 and set against the backdrop of the 1904 Welsh Christian Revival, the novel begins with the sinking of a small boat in a west Wales fishing village resulting in the deaths of several agricultural labourers. The incident orphans two of the main characters, forcing their lives to become intertwined. Part tragic love story and part social commentary, Queen of the Rushes remains an eminently readable novel. Queen of the Rushes was Raine’s eighth novel and sold over 300,000 copies on release. Raine was an incredibly popular author in the early 1900s with her novels selling two million copies worldwide. Several of her novels were made into some of the very first British silent films. All were filmed on location in west Wales, though unfortunately have since all been lost. One of these films, A Welsh Singer (1915), starred Hollywood’s Florence

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Turner (pictured on the cover of Queen of the Rushes) and enraptured critics at the time with its performances and photogenic settings. Despite such popularity, by the end of the twentieth century her work had largely been forgotten and she remains a relatively little-known figure in Wales. Queen of the Rushes was one of the first attempts by a Welsh writer, in English, to map out a distinctly Welsh literary landscape. At a time when novels set in Wales were regarded with suspicion by publishers unfamiliar with the country and unsure how their readers would respond, her refusal to compromise in this regard was inspirational. And because of this, Raine offers us a unique insight into the people of nineteenth and early twentiethcentury Wales. Whilst Raine’s writing could sometimes romanticise the lives of rural Welsh communities, the author Kate Roberts (1891-1985) depicted the lives of working-class Welsh families with authenticity and realism. Roberts is often regarded as the ‘Queen of Welsh literature’. She was raised on a smallholding near Caernarfon and wrote exclusively in Welsh with most of her work also set in north Wales. The daughter of a slate quarryman, she said that she derived the material for her work “from the society in which I was brought up, a poor society in an age of poverty... [where] it was always a struggle against poverty. But notice that the characters haven’t reached the bottom of that poverty, they are struggling against it, afraid of it.” Her work is suffused with the spirit of the slate-quarrying landscape and the people that inhabited it. Hardship and loss are common themes throughout her novels, counterpointed by the resilience and hope of her characters. Roberts was a Welsh nationalist and an early member of Plaid Cymru. She published sixteen volumes in total, but it was the death of her brother in the First World War that acted as the catalyst for her writing career. Her most acclaimed novel Feet in Chains (1936) charts the forty-year history of the Gruffydd family and the economic realities of a quarryman’s life. Many themes in the novel such as recession, poverty and insecure employment have modern parallels. So too does Roberts’ portrayal of family life and relationships; there are teenage romances, sibling rivalries and family secrets. Roberts dramatizes her own loss of her brother in the war whilst demonstrating her skills as a story writer in a brief but incredibly resonant scene in Feet in Chains. Jane Gruffydd, the mother, receives a letter from the War Office informing her of the death of her son during the First World War. The letter is written in English, Jane can only read and speak Welsh. She suspects that the letter is bringing terrible news but must set out on an agonising search through her village for someone to translate it for her, whereupon her worst fears are confirmed. Hilda Vaughan (1892-1985) was born in Builth Wells and published ten novels set in and around Radnorshire. Her first to be published was The Battle to the Weak in 1925, where the dawn of the twentieth century saw a new generation clashing with the conservative traditionalism of an old Welsh way of life. In the novel Rhys Lloyd and his engagement with the ideas of Social Darwinism and the League of Nations make him a dangerous figure in the village. The son of a Welsh-speaking Nonconformist, his love for the church-going Esther reflects tensions that have long and bitterly divided the community. Most striking, however, is the determined Esther who calmly witnesses the casual brutality of her agricultural upbringing, drawing on

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an inner strength that would provide an archetype for Vaughan’s later heroines.

daily lives. The New Welsh Review describes it as “a vivid and sensuous response to nature, a detailed attention to social history and a sensitive interest in the viewpoint of the child”.

Vaughan was educated privately until the outbreak of the First World War, after which she served in a Red Cross hospital and for the Women’s Land Army in Breconshire and Radnorshire. Her work brought her into contact with women living and working on the local farms and those experiences became a major influence on her writing. Vaughan’s work is distinguished by its lyrical yet realistic evocation of Welsh rural landscapes and customs, and by her incisive analysis of the politics of class, gender, and nationality.

In 1944 she published a book of poetry, Morning Songs, which literary critic Kate Gramich comments on as being ‘lyrical and song-like, almost invariably expressing a sense of loss, nostalgia and longing.’ During her lifetime, Lewis was likened to Katherine Mansfield, Arthur Ransome, and Frances Hodgson Burnett. Despite her critical acclaim and the popular success she experienced in the 1930s and 1940s, Lewis’s fame diminished severely in the subsequent decades. Both her novels have recently been republished due to a renewed interest in female Welsh writers.

Eiluned Lewis (1900-1979) was a novelist and poet born near Newtown, Powys. For most of her life she worked in journalism, notably as a member of the editorial staff of The Sunday Times. The Lewis family also had a close friendship with J. M. Barrie who often visited the Lewis’s home on the banks of the Severn.

Other books in the Honno series cover political and feminist issues. The Rebecca Rioter (1880) by Amy Dillwyn satirises rigid nineteenth century gender roles; Eunice Fleet (1933) by Lily Tobias charts the treatment of conscientious objectors during the First World War and The Small Mine (1962) by Menna Gallie details life in a small south Wales mining community in the 1950s, one of the only female Welsh writers to do so. In addition, The Very Salt of Life is an anthology covering a century of Welsh women’s political writings from the 1830s to the 1930s. Its contributors include female Chartists, patriotic defenders of the Welsh language, feminists working for equality within religious and educational institutions, early socialists and ‘votes for women’ activists.

Her first literary success was the novel The Dew on the Grass. A bestseller in its year of publication in 1934, it was translated into several languages, rapidly went through a number of editions, and was the winner of the Gold Medal of the Book Guild for best novel of the year. The semi-autobiographical story is of nine-year-old Lucy and her siblings growing up in the Montgomeryshire countryside, with the novel being told completely from Lucy’s viewpoint. Lewis succeeds in creating a celebration of childhood through a streamof-consciousness account of Lucy’s experiences, a compression of childhood memory.

Despite being critically acclaimed or their works selling thousands of copies, many of these authors had become all but forgotten by the end of the twentieth century and most of their works were out of print. Jane Aaron, Professor of Literature at Swansea University, theorises that these writers’ reputations were affected by the double disadvantage which all Welsh women writers before Honno suffered, that of being Welsh and female. Before the 1970s and the development of Englishlanguage publishing in Wales, most Welsh writers in English were published in London where their work tended to be categorised as ‘provincial’. In addition, publishers, critics, reviewers, and university lecturers tended to be predominantly male. In the 1980s and 1990s Anglo-Welsh literature was taught at Welsh universities, with Kate Roberts being the only female Welsh writer to appear on any literature syllabuses. Now there are 33 women writers on Welsh university syllabuses compared to 44 men, and 21 of the 33 women are from the Honno Welsh Women’s Classics series. One of the aims of Honno Welsh Women’s Press in 1986 was to expand the audience for Welsh women’s writing for the benefit of new generations, an aim that is now truly on its way to being met.

Her second novel, The Captain’s Wife, was published in 1943 and was immediately popular being reprinted twice within a matter of months. The novel follows Lettice Peters, the ‘captain’s wife’ of the title, who has travelled the world on her husband’s ships but has now settled with her children in the little cathedral town of St Idris in Pembrokeshire. The coastline, farms, saint-haunted hills, and cathedral are skilfully evoked in this atmospheric and poignant novel, which looks back nostalgically on a period, sixty years before, when the rhythms of traditional Welsh culture were still intact, though losses and tragedies were still a part of women’s

S C R I B B L E Meet the new Editors

Hello everyone, I am Aaina Jassel and I am taking English Literature as one of my A-Levels. I have been part of Scribble for the past 2 issues and have written a couple of articles and a book review. Scribble has been a wonderful way to explore literature in a way which is off the syllabus and can cater to everyone. I have loved both writing my own articles and reading other people’s. I can honestly say that I have learnt so much and every Scribble article I have read has allowed me to look deeper into things I have never even paid a second thought to. I am extremely happy to be part of the new editor team in the coming year and I would like to thank the current editors for giving us all guidance from ideas about articles to checking our grammar mistakes. Hope you enjoy this issue! Hello, I am Isabel. Scribble has been running successfully for several years now, and as I am set to take over as editor, I hope we can maintain our tradition of exploring literary curiosity whilst also providing some new and exciting prospects for the magazine. For me, Scribble offers the chance to delve deeper into the world of literature which many have really only scraped the surface of; we are able to share our passion and knowledge with other like-minded individuals, also possessing a certain affinity for English, whilst still learning more about our interests in the process of writing. I am immensely grateful for the team of skilled writers I shall inherit, who, without a doubt, have contributed even more intriguing pieces for this latest edition, which will prove to investigate a perhaps more personal topic of Feminism – being at an all-girls school, this issue is sure to provide well-educated insight into feminist views and criticisms as we address one of the bigger issues in our society, inevitably projected onto literature and art for centuries. As seen in our previous Zeitgeist special, the spirit of the era seeps through into culture and allows one to get an impression of the general atmosphere and ideas of the contemporary period; following up from this, we focus this time on looking through the feminist lens at these various works. In this issue, one can see writings on the portrayal and perceptions of women through the ages, as well as on the empowering feminist critics and the works of female writers, which hopes to be one of the one of the most exciting yet. Anyhow, so as I do not prolong your reading of these splendid articles any further, I shall merely say a huge thank you to our previous editors, Holly, Lily and Grace, and express my wish that we, Libby, Aaina and myself, can only pick up the baton and carry our beloved publication Scribble as well as they. Hello, my name is Libby, and I will be a new editor for Scribble. I have always been active in the English department; through book clubs and poetry writing sessions, to writing for Scribble every chance I get. I am very excited to undertake this new role and I have lots of ideas around the development of the magazine, especially surrounding the plan to add themes for each edition to keep them topical and cohesive. I think Scribble is an incredible opportunity to unite the (stereotypically introverted!) bookworms (and perhaps even those who don’t like to read) within the school to open dialogues about literary opinions and issues - my article on how much I dislike Harry Potter certainly did that! I can’t wait to see what happens next.

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Why do we fall for toxic men in literature? by Aaina Jassel

ver the past few weeks, I have made a shocking discovery. I fall for toxic men in literature. My first thought was what on earth is wrong with me but as I discussed this with friends, I realised that it wasn’t just me. So why do we fall for these stereotypical ‘masculine’ toxic men? Especially when I know that in reality it would never be a good relationship. These men generally fall into the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ category. They can be brooding and mysterious like Mr Darcy from Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and sometimes they can even be borderline sociopathic like Mr Rochester from Charlotte Bronte’s ‘Jane Eyre’. I know that, in Mr Rochester’s case, locking his wife Bertha up in an attic and pretending she doesn’t exist is a pretty big red flag but I can’t help but love him. Why is this? Why is it that these tall, brooding and sometimes just plain mean men seem to do so well in getting us to fall for them? The previous two examples I gave are from some classic books so you might be thinking, ‘Well, that doesn’t happen in modern literature’ but novels haven’t changed all that much. In recent literature we have Rhysand from ‘A Court of Thorns and Roses’ series by Sarah J. Maas who is first shown to us as a villain, yet halfway through the second book he is a character who could do no wrong in my eyes. We also have Prince Cardan Greenbriar from ‘The Cruel Prince’ by Holly Black (and I mean, guys its literally called the CRUEL prince). Even Thomas Cresswell from the ‘Stalking Jack the Ripper’ series who is shown multiple times as someone who lacks empathy and can often get confused with social cues (don’t worry, he isn’t Jack the Ripper!). This brings me to question why are these the type of men we like to read about? For one, there is the ‘I can change him’ or ‘he will change for me’ aspect which allows you to feel that you’ve helped him become better. That he would do anything for you and allows you to feel in complete control, especially when the world is out of control. There is also a level of protection, the ‘if anyone touches her,

they die’ moments which offer security and comfort that you will be safe. Whilst I know that this makes out that as women, we are weak, need protecting and can be insecure with relationships that we need characters like these to take away our fears, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It is commonly women authors who are writing these male figures. It is the women authors who have realised that this is what they, and possibly you, needed from literature. But why? These men who, lets be honest are rather toxic, offer us a way to experience this without any of the repercussions of real life. For example, if we actually dated a Mr Rochester we wouldn’t want to be locked up in an attic. If we dated Cardan, we wouldn’t want to be humiliated in front of everyone. And if we dated a Mr Darcy we wouldn’t want to be insulted about our entire lifestyle. I can imagine that these could be the kind of men who would control what you wore, who you saw, your finances and perhaps more aspects of your life, however inside these novels they aren’t painted in this light. They are shown as an almost antihero, a villain with a backstory which we sympathise with and want to know more. These types of relationships also convey the excitement mixed with nervousness at their volatile and unpredictable nature. I have described these men as brooding, mysterious, toxic, controlling and many more adjectives with rather negative connotations. I’d like to turn your attention back to the question of why we fall for these men. It can’t just be purely excitement and intrigue, can it? As I briefly touched on, these men are like antiheroes. If they are ever constructed to be villains, we then get a detailed backstory evoking sympathy. They almost have a come back story and we have an explanation for their behaviour. This

explanation seems to validate their behaviour and allows us to see past this such as if they say “you can’t go outside, someone might harm you” we would think ‘aww they care so much about me getting hurt’ whereas in reality I’d probably say “whatever, I can do what I want, don’t tell me what to do”. The key fact that I have only come across women writing these men is not a coincidence. With women authors, they know what women want to have out of male characters and this creates their audience of women. They are women writing for women and these types of male characters show this. Women authors will be aware of this fascination for this kind of toxic men as they probably think this too. If a man were to write a male character such as this, he might feel uncomfortable and not quite understand what it is he needs to communicate for this character to be successful. Of course, there are some male writers who have done this successfully such as Bret Easton Ellis and his character Patrick Bateman from ‘American Psycho’ but these are few and far between. As a whole I think that this ‘ideal’ we have created is both peculiar and perfect. We can experience a romantic version of a relationship that would be horrible in reality but in a novel, or even in film, it is captivating. There are many novels out there about falling in love with the ‘villain’ or getting kidnapped but falling for your kidnappers. These are of course the extremes of this but they still provide a safe and secure place in a world of violence and unpredictability. This could just be me but I think I will continue to fall for these men whether they are portrayed as ‘the boy next door’, ‘the bad boy’ or even just ‘the villain’. Will you continue to fall for them too?

It’s a Fine Art: Women in a Man’s World

he literary world is bursting with female authors and poets who have shaped the way we think and see the world. This is true, too, of the visual arts. Female artists have been at the forefront of movements and reactions throughout art history, from Artemisia Gentileschi to Mary Cassatt. But women have not always had an easy time, making their way in what is already a competitive and difficult industry. The appalling treatment of Gentileschi is only one example of the oppression of successful women in history. Whilst Cassatt was privileged enough to enjoy an education and a career, her gender prohibited her from entering the social spheres that her male counterparts frequented; the bars, cafés and nightclubs that were the centre for artistic discussion amongst the Impressionists were not accessible for an upperclass woman .

James Millichamp Head of Art

Artemisia Gentileschi ‘Judith Beheading Holofernes’ c1613

Mary Cassatt ‘In the Omnibus’ c1891

‘Afternoon Tea Party’ 1890-1891

he Nineteen Seventies and Eighties were synonymous with the Feminist Art Movement and American photographers like Cindy Sherman used their work to critique the male gaze. Barbara Kruger used text and image to challenge social constructs and Nan Goldin’s work The Ballad of Sexual Dependency (1986) documented the post-Stonewall gay subculture in New York.

Pauline Boty, a leader and founder of the British Pop Art scene, has been largely written out of history, partly due to her untimely death but largely because of her gender. A contemporary publication on the Pop explosion captioned an image of Boty with one of her works as ‘Model with artwork’. Nice.

The Guerilla Girls formed in 1985 in New York, an anonymous group of Feminist artists, staging These artists used their voices to challenge and protests, taking over billboards and self-publishing promote awareness and debate and the Movement literature, in order to tackle corruption, racism was in it’s ascendency. Time for the artists to take and gender discrimination. To remain anonymous, the next step... members don gorilla masks and use pseudonyms that refer to deceased female artists. Still active In the Twentieth Century, we see Dame Barbara today, well worth a look! Hepworth, Britain and the world’s greatest sculptor, at the forefront of the avant garde, In a recent article in The Observer, Vanessa dismissed as an 'idiosyncratic British artist Thorpe writes about generations of female of mostly local interest', and widely criticised artists, composers and writers who have been for putting her career in front of her family lost to history because their names changed commitments. Would these kind of comments be after marriage. She looks at a new biography on levelled at a man in the same position? Isabel Rawsthorne, which makes this concerning argument.

Pauline Boty ‘The Only Blonde in the World’ 1963

Barbara Kruger ‘You are Not Yourself’ 1981

Rawsthorne’s powerful paintings are now attached to the three other names she used. As a result, she appears simply as a string of footnotes, and her full impact has not been recognised. Dr Carol Jacobi, author of the new study of Rawsthorne, believes we have a responsibility to raise significant female artists “out of the shadows”. Yelena Keller on Artsy writes about Black activists in the Art world who, too, have been overlooked and written out of history. In 1977 the Combahee River Collective, a Black Feminist organisation formed to raise consciousness about race and gender issues, gathered in New Jersey for their second retreat, where they worked together to formulate a collaborative letter. They wrote:

“We ﬁnd it appalling, that a hundred years from now it will be possible for women to conclude that in 1977 there were no practising Black and other Third World lesbian artists.”

The debate this provoked expresses the complex and often controversial relationship between mainstream Feminism and the Black women who were so often excluded from it in the past. Throughout history, we can see that women have been presented with barriers to not only forge a career in the visual arts, but also to be remembered for their contributions. We can also recognise and celebrate the pioneers who have made it possible for female practitioners to become the leaders we see today. We are all familiar with the fascinating work of Rachel Whiteread—the first woman to win the Turner Prize, and you may have read that French President Emmanuel Macron has appointed art historian Laurence des Cars as the first female head of the world’s most popular museum, the Musée du Louvre in Paris. The way has been paved—rise to the challenge, SHS!

Guerilla Girls ‘Do Women Have to be Naked to get into the Met. Museum?’ 1989

Cathy Ames

The Female Antagonist

By Holly Lovett

he narrative of John Steinbeck’s East of Eden concerns the lives of two families in the farmland of Salinas Valley, California. The generations seem to transition seamlessly into an altered re-enactment of the fall of Adam and Eve and the lethal rivalry of Cain and Able. Cathy Ames is the core female antagonist within East of Eden. She is initially characterised through Steinbeck’s inclusion of her cruel childhood feats and the manipulative steps she takes in her journey into adulthood. When we are introduced to Cathy, the narrator claims that she was born with a lack of goodness in her, and was a natural “monster”. Surrounding her character there is an unwavering tone of wickedness and as a result of her villainous actions, suffering continues to be injected in the forefront of the narrative, even when she is not present. She has a direct influence on the character arcs of many for the protagonists and damages many lives. Cathy is set apart as being atypical from other female characters and this is done through her vicious actions and destructive ambition. Even the narrator comments on her with a tone full of distain. Unlike the determination present in other characters (such as Will Hamilton), Cathy’s ambitions

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for wealth drive her to extreme lengths and she commits a variety of malicious crimes in the text. She is a striking character and this allows the novel to be a pacey page-turner, as Steinbeck constructs her to be twisted in such an enthralling way that she tests the boundaries of a typical female character. Steinbeck creates challenges for Cathy in the novel that tests her humanity repeatedly. It is clear that Cathy is a woman who knows how to engineer the events around her to favour her plans, whilst also exploiting others - something that she appears to gain great enjoyment from. Her lack of remorse is inserted into her character arc early on in the novel, when she kills her parents and immediately moves onto her next vindictive venture. Towards the centre of the novel Cathy begins her manipulation of Adam Trask, an honest and idealistic man who brought a ranch for himself and Cathy to live on. After using Adam’s kindness to regain strength (and after giving birth to twins) she abandons the young family and shoots her husband. She moves away and takes over the control of a brothel. She changes her name to Kate, but her new identity does little to change her evil tendencies. She is frequently characterised as animal-like, particularly shown in the description, “uncontrolled hatred shone in Kate’s eyes. She screamed a long and shrill animal screech”. For me, Cathy Ames is a catalyst for suspense in East of Eden. She can be thought of as a largely unusual, and therefore interesting character. She doesn’t fit into any literary stereotypes for a young female and because of this, the readers are never sure of Cathy’s next move (although we know it is likely to cause ruin). East of Eden is a novel which has an array of different female characters, this is how Steinbeck explores and examines the meaning of various identities and female expectations. Many female characters are used to represent the theme of love in the novel, but alongside this comes a strengthening to the emphasis of Cathy’s cruel uniqueness. Liza Hamilton is one of the first characters we are introduced to. She is a warm but pious female who has nine children with her respectable husband Samuel. She is depicted to be strong, and someone who conquers her unfortunate state of poverty, not through acquiring wealth, but by producing and raising hardworking, generous and lovable children. Although she is poor, throughout her character arc she is rarely unhappy. Liza’s maternalistic yet pragmatic nature makes her a character who is largely appealing. Liza Hamilton’s care for her children allows for there to be a stark contrast in the attitudes of a mother when it comes to Cathy, who leaves her babies shortly after they are born. Furthermore, these characters are largely different because Cathy appears to have an undying endeavour for control and wealth, something she obtains but is not fulfilled by. Another female character is Abra Bacon. Abra is the love interest of Adam’s son Aron Trask. They bond over a number of years however in the latter half of their relationship, Abra comes to the realisation that Aron loves ‘an idealised’ version of her (which mirrors the situation that previously occurred between Adam and Cathy) and she decides to move on, away from their partnership. It is here that Abra becomes a character who emphasises the different paths women can take. Whereas Cathy decided to maliciously utilize Adam for his ‘foolish’ love, Abra left her situation and took a different path into helping other characters such as Lee (Adam’s servant) and Caleb (Aron’s twin brother). This further heightens Cathy’s callousness as through this parallel with Abra, we can see how spiteful she really is due to her carelessness in wrecking the lives of others. Steinbeck uses Cathy as a pathway to discuss the complications of sex and gender and the influences these have on a person’s identity. In her progression in the novel, the readers are frequently reminded of Cathy’s femininity and beauty. As a result of this, Steinbeck infers that she is rarely taken seriously by the people that she interacts with, a potential self-reflexive comment on society, but also adding tension due to the readers understanding of Cathy’s motives. Because many underestimate her ease of gaining domination, Cathy commonly uses their naiveness to her advantage and begins her manipulation, she completes this in a way that is sly and allows her to not be detected. On the whole, Cathy is a character who infuses dilemma and strife into the narrative. She is the embodiment of evil within the plot and although many suffer from her choices, ultimately, the protagonists are left in a wiser position at the denouement. I have found that East of Eden was a thoroughly enjoyable read, and a novel which has a conflicting yet satisfying ending. I am left with many ideas to contemplate. Image: Arelia Dawn

By Maddie Chilcott

I always try to read the books that win the Booker Prize, it’s just something I do. In 2019, this incredible book was a joint winner with Margaret Atwood’s ‘The Testaments’. I set about starting to read it and was instantly ensnared by Evaristo’s stunning exploration of identity as well as race, sexuality, friendship, loss, love, laughter, longing and a bucket full of other emotions. If anything, I was overwhelmed. Totally enraptured by the way in which Evaristo manages to create such a personal and timeless conglomeration of intersectionality. In case you’re not aware of what the term intersectionality means, it explains the way that some social groups are subjected to not only one form discrimination but are instead bombarded by a combination of different types of discrimination. Just like at an intersection on a crossroads. The overriding message of the struggles of intersectionality coupled with the intensely personal, and borderline invasive, look into the characters’ lives makes this book so profound. We as readers are invited into the heads of the characters and for this reason, we are, to a certain extent, bombarded by this monstruous conglomeration of discriminations that so many people around the world must face.

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Another important point to make is the lack of full stops and capitalisation throughout the book provide a reminder that life never stops. The clock keeps on ticking and so do we and for this reason, Evaristo’s novel is ever more fascinating because it recognises the universal fact of life that we are all able to set our own pace. When reading the book, you are not bound by punctuation, you can set your own pace which for me is a perfect representation of life. Moreover, the poeticism created by the lack of punctuation suggests a certain poetic quality to life. In all its different iterations, life often possesses a certain poetic beauty and a certain poetic pain, both of which Evaristo is adept at exploiting.

Before I dive into my (totally unbiased) analysis of this masterpiece, I think it’s necessary to point out that I’m a white, heterosexual female who comes from a privileged background and attends a private school. While I have borne the brunt of sexist remarks, never have I had to deal with the additional pressure of racist, xenophobic, homophobic or transphobic comments. Every day, I remind myself how lucky this makes me. But, for this reason, my ignorance and privilege made this book even more interesting to read. I was transformed when I finished it, finally understanding the extent of abuse that so many people must face. So, post-Girl, Woman, Other, postBLM and post-Me Too, I would say that everyone should read this book and educate themselves about how lucky they are. Now, I apologise for the crusade, but please read it, if not for you, read it for all of those people out there stranded in the centre of a spider’s web of intersections. They need your help. They need to you realise the extent of hardship in the world. As Evaristo says “be a person with knowledge not just opinions”

The emotionally textured style of the book is simultaneously heart-warming and heart-breaking as we see the same quotidian issues examined from different perspectives. We experience racism and ageism through Amma’s involvement in the creative industry through her play The Last Amazon of Dahomey. We experience adolescent arrogance and broach subjects of feminism and identity politics with Yazz. My point is that gone are the days of banal discussion of pain and hardship. Through a collection of casual comedy, racism and character flaws, Evaristo creates a literary collage so diverse that she manages to capture the complexity of modern chaos in 452 pages.

Throughout the novel, Evaristo argues that all women are bound together by the challenges that we must face living in a patriarchal society. She also argues that while we are united by our mutual experience, we are also differentiated by the extent to which we must suffer the pangs of the patriarchy. What with current surges of Black Lives Matters debates and the Me Too movement, Evaristo expertly broaches the perennial problems of racism, sexism, homophobia without creating superficial characters to act as mouthpieces for a popular debate. By delving deep into the lives of the twelve characters in her book, Evaristo brings the struggle back to a personal level rather than creating an umbrella debate that is supposed to encompass the individual struggles of the millions of women stranded in the busiest social intersection around.

Although it may seem impossible, Evaristo still maintains an unerring positivity, albeit soured by casual references to underlying prejudice and blatant discrimination, throughout the novel. “Life is an adventure to be embraced with an open mind and a loving heart”. After all she has been through, love prevails. Through all the dark clouds of vicious capitalism, staunch patriarchy, inequality and rage, happiness shines through. She does not express hatred for those who oppose her or her characters, she touches on privilege and ignorance, but still there is a sense of hope, that one day everyone will understand. My favourite quote from the book is as follows: “Let us wonder at how X was just a rare letter until algebra came along and made it something special that can be unravelled to reveal inner value”. Evaristo believes that there is good in everyone, and this optimism certainly shines through in her writing.

Evaristo also broaches some timeless issues. For example, the stigma surrounding feminists having romantic partners. Since the 1960s and 70s people have asked how can a woman incorporate a relationship with a man into her feminist life? Even Simone de Beauvoir, arguably one of the most influential feminists of the second wave, was subjected to demeaning treatment from the press for having a liberal relationship with Jean-Paul Sartre. Evaristo contemplates ubiquitous issues in such a way that makes them shiny and revolutionary. She brings the individual qualms and struggles of her characters which make the fulcrum of social change. It is this personal connection to sexism, racism or homophobia that Evaristo has created for each of her characters that makes this such a personal novel. You almost get the sense that Evaristo has broken up her soul into twelve little pieces and hidden the fragments in each of her characters. And for me, that’s what makes this book so special and so worth reading because it’s not just fiction, it’s such well-advised and rich fiction that you get a real insight into the struggle of intersectionality.

When each section of the book ends, we leave with a new perspective. Not just a new idea, but a completely new outlook on life. If I had to sum up why I so love this book, it would be because it made me re-evaluate things more than any other book had done before. I closed it wanting to educate myself, wanting to help as much as I could, wanting to not be ignorant of my privilege. I don’t want to tell you anymore because you deserve to read it without it having been spoiled for you. So, read it please, I promise you won’t regret it.

Why Sansa Stark Matters By Lily Harding

o the general public in the year 2021, the mention of Sansa Stark conjures up feelings of disappointment and bitterness associated with the wasted potential of the Game of Thrones TV series. After the infamous train wreck of the HBO show’s final season, many of the characters, their arcs and the emotional connection audiences had with them, faded into a depressing obscurity. Sansa Stark, one of my favourite characters of both the books and the show, was also a victim of this fate with most fans left ambivalent on Sansa’s final accession to the Northern throne. Two years since the 2019 finale and ten years since the show’s beginning, I want to celebrate what both versions of Sansa mean to me, and how George RR Martin, in a story so often critiqued for the exploitation of its female characters, created a relevant and deeply empathetic feminist narrative. I also want to explore how the choices the television show made in concluding Sansa’s arc detract from such a personally valuable part of A Song of Ice and Fire. At the beginning of both the TV show and the books, Sansa is a character that is easily (though reductively) disregarded as an irritation. The eldest daughter of the Stark siblings, she is raised on the expectation that her life will revolve around who she is eventually betrothed to; societal norms she fully embraces, excelling in courtly manners, dressmaking and singing as well as being naturally pretty. It is this aptitude for the role society expects her to play that initially turns a lot of people off of Sansa, especially in comparison to her much more accessibly empathetic sister, Arya, characterised as Sansa’s polar opposite. Arya is not cut out for the lifestyle of a Westerosi Lady, where her sister dreams of being the princess in a courtly romance, Arya dreams of knighthood, even taking up sword fighting lessons during the Starks’ stay in King’s

Landing. As a result, Arya is eminently more likeable from the outset, resembling the archetype of the rebellious young woman that has become so popular in recent young adult fiction. Conversely, the fact that Sansa never once feels out of place and is popular among her teachers and peers removes her somewhat from the growing pains many experience in childhood, which often makes Arya’s chapters far more relatable. Further fodder for the audience’s dislike of Sansa is her involvement in the death of the innocent butcher’s boy Mycah, Arya’s friend and playmate on the road to King’s Landing. Sansa and her betrothed, the handsome but sadistic prince Joffrey, come upon Arya and Mycah playing near the ruby ford where Joffrey threatens the boy with his sword,

WARNING = SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1 TO 8 OF ‘GAME OF THRONES’ + THE ENTIRETY OF A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE, TRIGGER WARNING FOR DISCUSSIONS OF RAPE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT 20

Sansa proves herself again to be selfish on this basis when she, in a petty attempt to retaliate against her father after she is told he intends to take them back home to Winterfell, unwittingly aids Cersei’s plot to capture and execute him. The blame for Ned Stark’s arrest and beheading subsequently lies with his own daughter.

cutting his face and enraging Arya. Arya fights back against the injustice done to her friend, sending her direwolf Nymeria to disarm the prince, wounding him. The consequences for this are expectedly harsh, with the dolling out of punishment resting solely on Sansa’s shoulders as the primary witness. She is asked by authorities as high as the queen Cersei whose story she corroborates; Joffrey who claims he was attacked unprovoked, or her sister, telling the truth of the incident. Here, an enormous pressure is put on the adolescent Sansa to choose between what she knows is the truth and the fairy tale lifestyle and marriage to Joffrey she pines after. Caught, she removes herself altogether, telling the queen she does not know what really happened. The repercussions of this are Cersei’s ordering of Mycah’s death, and, as Arya had anticipated the punishment of killing the direwolf and driven Nymeria away, the death of Sansa’s direwolf, Lady. The skirmish only drives a further wedge between the sisters, Sansa’s inaction is condemned as cowardly and stupid by Arya, and Sansa goes as far as to think that Arya should’ve been killed in Lady’s place. With the sympathies of many resting with Arya at this point in the narrative, it seems true that all Sansa is is a weakling willing to jeopardize her family’s safety for her idealistic vision of a life in the capital. She continues to overlook Joffrey’s violent mood swings for the sake of her infatuation with him and their imagined courtly romance.

Taking these inaugural moments of Sansa’s role in the wider plot into consideration, it’s not difficult to understand why Sansa’s popularity amongst fans pales in comparison to the popularity of other main characters like Jon Snow. However, I would argue these character flaws, and how grave their consequences are when coming into contact with the brutality of Westerosi politics, make Sansa all the more compelling. Sansa’s arc is one of the many coming of age plots within A Song of Ice and Fire, her sheltered childhood has left her with preconceived notions of how lords and ladies ought to act, how chivalry and manners are paramount, how knights are dashing heroes and kings and queens are benevolent to their people; over the first book, those illusions are shattered. As chivalry gives way to spying and power plays, knights are exposed as murderers and rapists, kings drunkards, and queens cruel politicians, Sansa’s innocence is lost. Her attempts to cling to that innocence, even as she is mean to her sister and

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naïve in her assumptions, are incredibly affecting and sympathetic. At the core of it, all she wants is to be safe and with her family. The care Martin puts into characterising this young girl as she is put through increasingly traumatic events after the death of her father, including being forced by Joffrey to look at Ned’s head mounted on a spike on the walls of the Red Keep, is a powerful start, delivering a character whose nuances go underappreciated by most audience members.

own wedding, Sansa has little choice but to follow the direction of whoever she thinks has the best chance of getting her back to her family. But even in this limited capacity, Sansa still exercises soft power when she can. For instance, whilst in hiding at the Eyrie under the alias Alayne Stone, she makes the active decision to aid her ward and only living protector Petyr Baelish in becoming regent to the heir of the Vale, the sickly child Sweetrobin Arryn. In the books, she tells Lord Nestor Royce that the attempted rapist Marillion was the one to push her aunt Lysa to her death, and in possibly my favourite Sansa-centric scene on the show, she tells Lord Yohn Royce that Lysa committed suicide in a

In my opinion, this is only strengthened by how Sansa adapts to the newly hostile atmosphere of King’s Landing. She begins to use her ladies’ courtesies to her advantage, gaining an understanding of the double meanings and duplicity of court after the Lannisters and Baratheons she thought she could trust turned her into their hostage at the onset of the War of the Five Kings. She feigns loyalty to her captors, continuing to profess her love of Joffrey even as she begins to hate him. The best exemplification of Sansa’s subtle agency in her new position of knowledge, is her saving of the knight Ser Dontos Hollard, who embarrasses himself by showing up to a tourney drunk and is nearly killed by Joffrey. It is Sansa’s clever suggestion that execution would not be as good of a punishment as being turned into Joffrey’s fool, sparing the man’s life. This is both an illustration of Sansa’s intelligence, that she’s able to play on her knowledge of Joffrey’s love of humiliating people, and her genuine kindness, making her one of the few characters to go out of her way to save people she has no benefit in saving. Similar acts of kindness such as her singing to calm the panicked women of King’s Landing during the siege of the Battle of Blackwater highlight this trait. In this way, Sansa is thematically allied with Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth; knights who, despite their disillusionment with storybook chivalry, resolve to fulfil the values of the noble protector even in a land as harsh as Westeros. These characters incidentally also find themselves at the top of my list of favourite characters. Part of Martin’s craft is in creating a world that may seem needlessly dark but conveying an effective message through the characters that make the active decision to help those that cannot help themselves.

fit of self-hatred. This is a direct parallel to the first instance where Sansa was asked to corroborate a story in the first book – only now she is wiser, not caught in indecision but instead deciding to throw in her lot with Petyr, at the same time subtly demonstrating the power she coud hold over him. Altogether, an important reflection on Sansa’s growth, fully aware of the political implications of her actions. This is the point at which we leave Sansa in the books, hidden in the Vale, learning more about who to trust and how to manipulate things for her own ends. As it is, I am very excited to see how Sansa’s arc is expanded on with the (hopefully) impending release of the Winds of Winter, as I hope I’ve communicated here how

The accusation has also been levelled against Martin that Sansa remains a political pawn, simply playing into the hands of the larger figures like Cersei or Petyr Baelish. Certainly, in the cases of both her marriage to Tyrion Lannister and her escape from King’s Landing after Joffrey’s dramatic death at his

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well-done Sansa’s development is. Her story is one of innocence, to disenchantment, to adaptation; and it is vital to the wide variety of female characters within the series. Personally, I find Sansa’s gaining of her bearings and increasing political competency whilst still being an intrinsically compassionate and idealistic person at heart especially engaging, and I do consider it a feminist narrative amongst a dearth of poorly written women in the fantasy genre.

camels back and plunged a character I value so much for her kindness into cynicism. Because apparently, seeing her father beheaded, being kept as a hostage for years, being a victim of constant beatings and threats of sexual violence from Joffrey, losing her brother and her mother and to her knowledge the rest of her siblings – isn’t enough “character building” trauma for a primary female character. Any spark of personality or hope must be stamped out in this frankly childish miming at what the writing team thinks Martin’s dark themes are. Sexual violence is frequently incorporated into the books, frequently in clumsy ways, but none that have disgusted me in this way. It just goes to show how truly rudderless the series was after they exhausted all existing materials.

Unfortunately, the TV series, continuing beyond the available books to adapt from, completely decimates the subtlety of the intended arc with a

The later seasons of the TV show’s idea of a feminist arc is not the considered, careful plotting of Sansa’s book arc where she grows into a resourceful and resilient character, but instead an insulting phoenix rising from the flames, poorly developed and hollow payoff where Sansa’s pain is torturously presented for us in excruciating detail so that her eventual accession to the throne feels “earned”. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of how to write a rewarding story; sexual violence is not a necessity for a female character to be compelling, or for her to reach the heights of her male peers. Furthermore, none of Sansa’s humour or heart are present in the self-satisfied gloom of the final seasons. The dialogue continuously beats you over the head with how this new, muted, emotionally cold Sansa is “the smartest person” in the room without ever actually having her be proactive in a way that makes sense. The only attempt at this, the plot to expose and execute Petyr, is confusingly plotted, leaving Sansa’s actual agency in the sting operation in question. Overall, the TV series’ choices with regards to Sansa are spectacularly disappointing, ruining the feminist resonance of her original story. To anybody feeling disheartened after this discussion of the heavier subjects, I am sorry, but I am very hopeful that Sansa’s arc in the books will go on to be as interesting and well written as it has been throughout the last five books. To anybody whose interest has been peaked by the level of spoilers in this article, please do read A Song of Ice and Fire- I’ve barely scratched the surface of the thematic depth and breadth of worldbuilding present in these books, they really are worth the time investment! And there are many rewarding takeaways in how to write a multifaceted, nuanced young woman like Sansa. Truly a fascinating case when considering feminism in literature.

senseless need to pile on more horror. Instead of remaining at the Vale, Sansa takes up the role of book-only character Jeyne Poole and is married to the abusive Ramsay Bolton, a character who exceeds Joffrey in acts of cruelty. In this nonsense twist of a consistent narrative, the lead writers display their worst and most exploitative tendencies, reaching a particularly abhorrent peak with a rape scene on the wedding night. Needless to say, I hate this choice. Not only is the scene written in a voyeuristic and disrespectful way, where the violent assault of a character aged 16 is lingered on beyond any modicum of comfort, but it is treated by the remaining portion of the show as a seminal incident in Sansa’s arc, the final straw that broke the

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The First English Feminist

By Isabel Clarke

hen it comes to Feminist writers, there will naturally be a handful of names that are more familiar than others: names such as Margaret Atwood - author of The Handmaid’s Tale - or Carol Anne Duﬀy – previous poet laureate and writers of anthologies such as Feminine Gospels and The Worlds Wife – are most likely to spring to mind. Names of women writing before the 20th century with a feminist agenda seem even more scarce, though one might think of the likes of Virginia Woolf, Mary Shelley, or her mother Mary Wollenscroft, regarded by some as the ﬁrst British Feminist. Yet, it is Mary Astell who has earned the name The First English Feminist, having been born in 1666 in Newcastle to an upper-middle class coal merchant, 93 years before Wollenscroft. Astell received an informal education from her uncle Ralph, who was a local Cambridge curate as well as a published poet and intellectual, whereby she gained a familiarity and mastery of Christian Platonism (a 17th-century attempt by Cambridge intellectuals to reconcile Christianity with humanism and science by using Plato’s theories), thereby gaining an education beyond that of most women of her social standing. At around 20-21 years old, Astell moved to Chelsea, London, where she spent most of her adult life. This represented a bold decision on her part, for she had no prospects of marriage and no indication that she would be able to make a living by gaining money off her writings. Yet she fortunately became acquainted with a circle of aristocratic women, such as Lady Elizabeth Hastings and Lady Catherine Jones, who were willing to support Astell, acting as patrons. Thus, with their assistance alongside the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Sancroft, whom she managed get to finance her early writing career after explaining how her poverty (as a result of her father’s death at 12) had forced her to pawn all of her clothes, she was able develop and publish her works. Such includes a wide range of genres, from political through to philosophical; a number of political pamphlets were published in 1704 regarding her views on how the whig party were trying use the church in order to gain office, and her various novels include her views on metaphysics as well as feminist issues. In her 1694 book A Serious Proposal to the Ladies, she presents her argument

Fronticepiece from Jacques du Bosc’s The Excellent Woman Printed for Joseph Watts (1692) Offered by Ruth Perry as an example of how Astell might have looked. Credit: British Library

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for the establishing communities of learning for women and female academies (much like our beloved Shrewsbury High). Later in Some Reflections on Marriage, published in 1700, she showcases a radical treatise containing a critique of patriarchal marriage, and marital gender inequality. It is in this book that she warned female readers that a husband is a ‘monarch for life’ and that her perhaps most famous quote: ‘If all men are born free, how is it that all women are born slaves?’ comes from. She was one of the first English women to advocate the idea that no woman should be forced to marry against her will, maintaining that women were just as rational as men, and just as deserving of education; a proposition deemed so absurd, it wasn’t until the 20th century that people began agreeing. She argued this throughout her entire life, eventually turning her attention away from her pioneering publications to actually running a charity girls’ school in Chelsea after withdrawing from public life in 1709. Astell designed the school’s curriculum, and it is thought to have been the first school in England with an all-female Board of Governors, for she was of the belief that the world was so corrupt as a result of male dominance that women should receive an education free of male influence in a spiritual environment away from society. Astell died later in 1731 from breast cancer. One can already see the remarkable nature of Astell, standing up to the patriarchy (alongside a wide range of other issues) at a time when resistance against oppression from a woman seemed completely unheard of. Moreover, a recent discovery at Magdalene College, Cambridge unveiled by the college on the 8th March to mark International Women’s Day, has unearthed a group of volumes, all the property of “the first English feminist”, which further proves Astell to be a female intellectual, a thinker on a wide range of topics. I was lucky enough to get to hear about this astonishing find first hand on the 28th April from various specialists, as well as Catherine Sutherland, deputy librarian at the Pepys Library and Old Library at the college, who talked more about Astell and the uncovering itself. The collection comprises 47 books and pamphlets, all owned and annotated by Astell. All of the titles date from the mid-seventeenth to early eighteenth centuries and mostly correlate with Astell’s academic interests and the trajectory of her writing career. Sutherland found them during a recent provenance survey of Magdalene’s Old Library holdings, consisting of roughly 8500 books and manuscripts amassed since the founding of the college since its formation as a Benedictine hostel back in 1482. This survey is the culmination of around 5 years’ work to form an online searchable list of the library’s contents, in advance of more in depth cataloguing of books. Sutherland was able to identify those belonging to Astell by piecing together clues from bindings and citations in Astell’s published writings. Some showed more explicit signs of ownership, containing her full name

and price of the book when purchased. Others contained anonymous marginalia and notes, from which Sutherland compared handwriting, remarking how identification became easier over time It seemed Astell was a copious annotator, often choosing to comprise indices for her books, for her own personal reference and make corrections to the printed text using errata slips (a slip of paper inserted into a printed book listing important mistakes in the text noticed since publication). She used pen and pencil to make additions, deletions and substitutions but also wrote more interpretive comments in the larger blank spaces. From this, one can observe her

Catherine Sutherland with the Mary Astell Collection in the Old Library, Magdalene College, Cambridge

clear in depth understanding of the various subject matter within her novels; they were found to be loosely aligned with her topics and influential writers, with plenty of marginalia on a variety of subject matter. Sutherland says: “Most of her books were read and thoroughly engaged with, especially those which informed her own work to a significant degree.” Amongst her selection, twenty-eight of the items are in English, eighteen in French and one in Latin. There are numerous works by French philosopher René Descartes, showing not only her high level of education - for in the early eighteenth century, only a minority of British women could read in English, let alone in French, and annotations show her translating short sections of complex topics in a foreign tongue - but also the extent of Astell’s scientific understanding. Astell came to Descartes via the writing of Nicolas Malebranche and the two French philosophers became the greatest influences on her work. Astell seems to have undertaken an intense period of study in French during her correspondence with John Norris, who recommended she read their work. One gets the sense that Astell was an “all-rounder”, not merely focussing solely on women; most scholarly interest in Astell has centred around her philosophical thought and proto-feminism, but now we see evidence of her engaging with different subject matter, creating detailed notes relating to maths and science which are particularly striking. There are even specific works to which Astell

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refers in her notes, such as Borellus’ De vi Percussonis, et Motionibus Naturalibus a Gravitate Pendentibus (1686), alongside issues of the Royal Society’s Philosophical Transactions. Her notes in Les Principes de la Philosophie demonstrate that she already attained a high level of understanding in the sciences prior to her formal studies between 1697-1698 with the Astronomer Royal John Flamsteed. Dame Athene Donald, Professor of Experimental Physics at Cambridge, says: “Astell’s annotations demonstrate that she had read

Astell’s collection also demonstrated the importance of knowing one’s adversary (such as Gilbert Brunette, who famously opposed her call for a female academy, whom she owns one book by) experts have been able to see the extent to which she studied her rivals as well as those she agreed with. Thanks to Astell’s note-making, we know that she bought at least 10 of the book titles herself and that another 13 were bequests or gifts from friends, who bought her books both outside her principal interests as well as by her favourite authors. In the zoom meeting which I attended, James Raven, Professor of Modern History at the University of Essex, spoke about how we are used to the idea that women had lower literacy and education at the time. Whilst this is true for the lower classes, literacies differed widely across the classes, with important women in the higher ranks of society being well-read individuals. In fact, there is very strong evidence of ownership and access of books to women, so long as they’re in the right level of society; the earliest ownership by a woman was in 1608, and before 1785, there have been 57 collections owned by women, according to the Book Ownership Online. Astell herself had managed to find herself in a circle of influential and literary women, who were more than willing to fund her writing career - Sutherland says: “I love the inscriptions in the books which were gifted to Astell. These helped me find out more about her circle of friends and colleagues, and build up a picture of how she exchanged ideas with both male academics and like-minded women.”

Mary Astell’s copy of Descartes’ Les Principes de la Philosophie in the Old Library, Magdalene College, Cambridge

and thought carefully about much of what Descartes had written, giving careful explanations in English of some of his ideas. She was not frightened of disagreeing with him either, with several examples of ‘false’ being written in the marginalia regarding his analysis of the laws of motion. Astell may not have had access to Isaac Newton’s Principia which gave more precise and quantitative laws. Newton’s Laws have stood the test of time unlike some propounded by Descartes, including the very ones Astell annotated with ‘false’.” She also remarks how is “intriguing that she had the confidence, given her circumstances” that she was able to outwardly state her disbelief and blatantly label something as false. Evidently, she wished for other women to posses the same knowledge and thus assurance to disparage scientific claims made by men; in the late 17th century, Astell was interested in what it meant to describe individuals as ‘equal’, drawing on certain scientific texts (including Descartes) to argue that there was no difference between the sexes. She was a staunch believer in the existence of God and Christian teachings - being described as a high Anglican Tory – so she would’ve viewed the understanding of natural sciences, such as the motion of celestial objects or the nature of light, as part of the wonders of God’s way, and therefore worthy of study for both men and women. Hence why she potentially has this variety of books related to works she never did, having been purchases after Astell’s final work in 1709. These novels are on the subject of natural history, as Astell intended to work with female friends to synthesise an accessible introduction to scientific ideas. This would be a compendium of natural philosophy, written as a quick guide to philosophical knowledge, designed to encourage other women to develop their understanding of the natural world.

Inscription in Astell’s copy of Arthur Capel, Excellent Contemplations, Divine and Moral, reads: ‘Given to M. Astell by her Grace the Duchess Dowager of Beaufort Daughter to this incomparable Lord. Nov 21st 1712’. Image courtesy of the Master and Fellows of Magdalene College Cambridge

Raven also touched upon the nature of book-purchasing back in the period, stating how Astell would’ve most likely gone to the bookshops herself, like in the case of most, for book sellers acted as important sites to discuss and meet with like-minded individuals. London became the pivotal centre for book trading and selling, with the St Paul’s area being a particularly well-known district for such goings-on. Richard Wilkins, Astell’s publisher, introduced to her by

Archbishop Sancroft, was at the centre of the Tory literary community. He had a book shop at number 56, Church Yard, St Pauls, where there was a succession of bookshops dating right back to the 16th century. There was a great diversity of opinion and shops around the area, all associated with very different political and religious positions, which is what made the area such an important place for discussion.

The confusion is understandable as it was only in the nineteenth century that the final ‘e’ was added to the Cambridge college to better differentiate between the two, and any references to Magdalen prior to this without the suffix ‘Oxon’ or ‘Cant’ to guide the reader could refer to either college. It seems that Astell made a conscious decision

Book-selling was much more informal back then; in order to gain possession of certain books, one had to know individuals within the trade (the majority of book printing began to be done abroad, yet men were still needed to handle imports, like along the Thames). Instead of opening hours, people would just knock on the doors to visit shops to meet with workers and sellers. It is likely that Astell got many of her volumes from Wilkins’ shop, but potentially, also Magdalene’s Old Library – the fact that Astell’s collection does not include works by the classical authors Astell read could suggest that she had access to Magdalene’s selection, which already had plenty of copies of Homer, Thucydides and Virgil. Wilkins provides a link between Astell and Daniel Waterland, theologian and Master of the college between 1713 and 1740, Waterland being a client of Wilkins too. Perhaps this is why Magdalene holds many more books authored by Astell than any other Cambridge College.

The Old Library. Courtesy of the Master and Fellows of Magdalene College Cambridge

to leave her library to Magdalene Cambridge; two books actually bear the inscription ‘The gift of Mrs Astell to Magdalene College’ but these are in the hand of someone else associated with the College. This could’ve been due to her uncle’s former studies there, or her relationship with Pepys.

Waterland may also provide the link between Astell and the college, explaining how the collection came to be in the Old Library. He cites Astell in his Advice to a Young Student, called her an ‘ingenious lady’, and was a fellow bibliophile, sharing similar literary interests, including Malebranche, Calamy and charity schools. “Unfortunately, there is no documentary evidence of Astell’s books arriving at Magdalene”, Sutherland explains, though she does have a convincing theory. In the 1740s, it was rumoured that Astell left an extensive library to ‘Magdalen College’ on her death and in the draft manuscript of Memoirs of Several Ladies of Great Britain George Ballard stated that ‘She gave her library, which was a pretty large one to Magdalene College in Oxford’. Crucially, ‘in Oxford’ has been deleted, presumably because Ballard couldn’t find any evidence of Astell’s books at his own college: Magdalen, Oxford.

So why is this discovery actually so important? Ruth Perry, Professor of Literature at MIT and biographer of Mary Astell, said: “This marvellous discovery will help scholars refine their ideas about this fascinating intellectual’s positions on a number of philosophical, religious and political issues.” In many ways this finding will change the direction of Astell studies; her notes provide the key to her writing style, what with the volume of marginalia, as well as her interrogative, yet highly ironist nature, and experts can recreate a better intellectual profile on her. It also demonstrates the need to break past the view of women only interested in women’s issues; Astell was a feminist critic of whig politics and keen scientist, as well as campaigner for equality between the sexes. One can also see evidence of her engaging with the thoughts and works of other female philosophers, and upon inspection of Astell’s collection, one gets a sense of women of the time in conversation with each other. There is the decentring of ideas around men, and Astell’s annotations are clear evidence of the equal (if not greater) brain capabilities of the two genders. Professor Ruth Perry remarks how “students of feminist history especially will be grateful to Catherine Sutherland and Magdalene College, for recognising this treasure and for carefully and methodically authenticating and documenting it.” As the provenance project is currently ongoing, there may even be more discoveries to come.

SCRIBBLE

Curiosity may kill the Cat, but Candor kills the classic epic Commentary on Pat Barker’s novel “Silence of the Girls” By Eleanor Pryce-Boutwood

TW: Sexual assault and suicide

Akin to Anne Carson, Pat Barker provides reimagined versions of the Greek classics, and “The Silence of the Girls” set during the Trojan War as told in Homer’s epic, The Iliad Iliad. The reader follows Briseis, daughter of the King of Lyrnessus, from the time of her capture until the beginning of the Greeks victory at the fall of Troy. The novel is not one of romance, nor thrill, rather it serves as an exposé of a lengthy and conflicted attempt by the Greeks to storm the city of Troy and take back Menelaus’ wife Helen (who barely features). Briseis joins the myriad of women abducted by the Greek army to serve as concubines to the warriors who have performed “well”. It follows that Briseis is gifted to the ever-victorious Achilles, and it is her placement under his control that makes her the perfect vessel to tell the story. Thankfully, Barker chooses not to employ the Stockholm syndrome trope: a tired and unimaginative storyline we have become saturated with. Instead, she uses Briseis’ quiet observation as narration, intermittent with flashbacks to her previous life, and carefully tweaks details from the original plot to create a more realistic image of the great Greek leaders. Achilles, Menelaus and his brother Agamemnon all fall victim to the first of the seven deadly sins, pride. Although subtle, their inability to admit wrong-doing, feverish attempts to avoid compromise and excruciating arguments over their concubines are all reminiscent of ‘toxic masculinity’. One wonders if the war should have lasted ten years if they weren’t more dedicated to one upping each other. This opposing approach in narrative begs the question; if history were to be written by the losing side, would it be any more candid? In The Iliad, female characters are granted little attention and are used as pawns by the male protagonists, to be exploited politically or physically (in Briseis’ case, both). Similarly, while in the retelling these women’s experiences isn’t the focus, we are able to see the war from the women’s perspective. They hold the role of victims but also the few spared from death: expected to be helpful and grateful when taken as slaves. As a reader you will observe Briseis’ eerily calm and stoic reception of her treatment. Whether again as a creative choice for better narrative or purposefully, it gives insight to the numbness her situation causes. She is continually torn between survival and loyalty to her family, murdered by her captors. Perhaps you would expect a woman more unhinged, hysterical even. Not here. Her conviction cannot be rivalled. It may disappoint you, the idea of revered heroes reduced to mere mortals, with more flaws than the next man, however it does make for much more interesting reading. My title is a slight overstatement – I don’t believe that tales like the Iliad and the Odyssey could ever be killed off, they’ve been around far too long – however they are now discoloured in my eyes. Reading the abridged versions I always looked for the protagonist’s victories. It was very rare that their shortcomings were made obvious, but the part of maturing that is the most excruciating is realizing the little lies, untruths and biases we once couldn’t see. If you were to read this book I hope you would appreciate that truth has thousands of forms, and how those who we celebrate: those such as Achilles, Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, the British Monarchy or Winston Churchill have gained their triumphs at the expense of others.

Scribble Feminist Reads The Twenty Days of Turin by Giorgio De Maria

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Libby Driscoll

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5/5

I was suffering a bit of a reading slump recently, but I heard about this underground 1970s Italian thriller with a slight political element that was called the future of horror literature. It’s from the perspective of an author who is writing a book (the one you’re reading, one of my favourite tropes) about Turin, a city which suffered from a ‘collective psychosis’ after the creation of the Library, a place where people could pay to read each other’s darkest secrets. It’s supernatural and covers the descent into madness in a worryingly relatable tone, but the central theme is the horror of human curiosity. The translator’s introduction put it best, the protagonist receives a warning not to ‘insist on searching for truth where human reason could ﬁnd only shadows’, but ‘someone has to ignore such warnings, or else ghost stories wouldn’t be ghost stories.’

The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar

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Aaina Jassel

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4/5

This book was amazing. It is the ﬁrst book I have read about a queer brown girl and it was deﬁnitely something that had been missing from my bookshelf. It explores many themes including cultural appropriation in a very contemporary and powerful way. The main character, Nishat, is just a typical high school girl struggling with all things to do with the teenage years an it was such a compelling story.

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

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Aaina Jassel

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5/5

I loved this book so much! It is a love story between Alex, the First Son of the US and Henry, the Prince of England. This story made me laugh and cry at the same time and it truly is amazing. There are so many comic moments alongside such heartfelt scenes which altogether create such a good energy and atmosphere. The progression of Alex and Henry’s relationship was phenomenal and I can only hope to have something close to what they had.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

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Aaina Jassel

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5/5

I don’t even know where to start with this book. It completely took my breath away and i’m not sure I have recovered yet. It is fully of mystery, suspense, romance and action. The perfect book! For starters there is an actual magician hiding as an illusionist in a circus (which only comes out at night!) and there is a secret competition. All the hard tears were extremely well written and there were twists, turns and surprises at every point. The ending was so beautiful and ﬁt the rest of the story wonderfully. I couldn’t have written a better book if I tried.

Feminists Don’t Wear Pink and Other Lies curated by Scarlett Curtis

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Holly Lovett

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4/5

A book that celebrates feminism, FEMINISTS DON’T WEAR PINK and other lies is both intriguing and informative. Expressing the harsh, humorous and truthful reality of the life of a female, this is a book that I believe should be on everyone’s bookshelf. Incorporating a mixture of real-life experiences, poetry and detailed information, readers are invited to not only form opinion, but also to explore further (particularly in the section titled “our shared shelf”). There is a varied mixture that grants representation to many different women with inputs from famous females, female businesses owners and everyday women such as single mums. A section that particularly struck me as of importance was “My Feminism” written by Saoirse Ronan as I found it speciﬁcally relatable to my own life.

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Lily Harding

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A GCSE classic sent to torture 15-year-olds across the isle, I would still recommend this surprisingly short novella for its earned place in the gothic lit hall of fame. It wears it’s themes on its sleeve, making perhaps quite a blunt and obvious partner in comparison to the cerebral, slow paced Frankenstein; another giant in the genre based around the ever-expanding horrors of science and their tension with the religious dogma of the 1800s. But, even if everybody knows the truth of the mystery at its heart, I can’t help but be charmed by the quirks of its earnestness and the genuinely endearing details of Stevenson’s writing. If none of this can convince you to take the 100-page plunge, it’s worth it purely for the comedic value of the scene where Utterson and Enﬁeld see a monstrous face in their close friend’s window and decide collectively to walk away and never talk about it ever again.

The Theatre Profession – is I have been fortunate in my life to have carved out a successful career in theatre as a female. But during my time it is clear that like many other professional trades, theatre is an industry that has been historically saturated by men. My passion for theatre began as a young child, when I auditioned for the primary school play and got cast as Gretel in ‘Hansel and Gretel’, then felt like I had won the lottery. I’ve always known the theatre industry to be incredibly competitive, where often only the most focused and driven succeed. Moving on to study drama and eventually pursuing a professional acting career I began to realise I had something else against me, being a female in theatre. In my early career often the best parts in plays were for men, giving a very short queue in the audition line for the female roles. During Shakespeare’s times all women were banned from the stage, with males playing all roles. The men also wrote and directed the plays while the women had specific expectations of keeping the house. As time went by this trend continued for many years. Even when female actors were permitted to grace the stage, it was expected that they were sensible, often mothers, sisters and supporting characters. At the beginning of the 1900’s there were many great changes in the arts, encouraging more contemporary methodologies of theatre making. The two

s it a role for women? great practitioners Brecht and Stanislavski (though both male) recognised the need for theatre to influence and educate society, pushing for real life to be represented on stage. This then influenced playwrights such as Tennessee Williams and Henrik Ibsen to write fantastic and powerful roles for women to play on stage. Though the audiences at the time were outraged, these amazing works paved a way for females in the theatre industry to be recognised for their craft. People began to realise that behind closed doors women had the same stories to tell as men, the same fears, the same challenges and that audiences wanted to hear about them, to see them on the stage. Cut forward to modern day and the theatre industry is now led by both men and women who in their own right have many excellent opportunities to create fulfilling careers in the arts. However, in both theatre and film it can still often be seen that men have the most fulfilling roles, and perhaps will be recognised more for their creativity and talent on the stage, whereas women will also need ‘the look’. This is something I came against as an actor in my early career. I have always recognised theatre is visual and audiences often need to feel satisfied with how a character looks, but I would never want a young woman pursuing an acting career to feel this is the only way of being cast. I have worked with some excellent female playwrights, directors, designers and actors over the span of my career and hope wholeheartedly that this may continue. The way we understand women’s place in society has changed and alongside this so has the stories we have want to tell about the challenges of a modern day women. With this comes more opportunities to thrive in what will always be an incredibly competitive but rewarding industry. My advice for any female pursuing the arts is to keep focused on what you love, how much you have to offer and what stories you want to tell. There will always be a place for you in the theatre industry and you are what makes change.

by Paula Tombs Head of Drama

S C R I B B L E Independent Day School 32 Town Walls , Shrewsbury, Shropshire SY1 1TN www.shrewsburyhigh.gdst.net scribble_magazine_shs

Shrewsbury High School

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Scribble Issue 8 Feminism Edition

Articles inside

The Theatre Profession - Is it a role for Women? by Paula Tombs

Scribble Feminist Reads

Curiosity may kill the cat, but candor kills the classic epic by Eleanor Pryce-Boutwood

The First English Feminist by Isabel Clarke

Why Sansa Stark Matters by Lily Harding

It’s a Fine Art: Women in a Man’s World by James Millichamp

Scribble, Meet the New Editors

Why do we fall for toxic men in Literature by Aaina Jassel

The Lost Voices of Welsh Women Writers by Alex Hale

Cathy Ames, A Female Antagonist by Holly Lovett

Girl, Women, Other by Maddie Chilcott

Amercian Psycho -The Male Projection on Women by Clara Lee

Welcome from the Editors