TN2 Issue 2, 21/22

2021-22 TN2 ISSUE 2 WINTER TN2MAGAZINE.IE

ART/FASHION/FILM/FOOD/GAMES/LITERATURE/MUSIC/SEX/THEATRE/TV/PLACES/GAEILGE/ALT.

TN2 ISSUE 2 ART TEAM

Cover Artist Ella Sloane Featured Illustrators Meghan Flood, Linde Vergeylen, Ellecia Vaughan, Emily Stevenson, Eve Smith, Bláithín He-Adley & Kellie Nash Featured Photographers Eadaoin Fagan, Satwik Chandra, O. T., Megan O’ Rourke & Gabriela Grzywacz

Satwik Chandra

Ed-inC ort fhie Ciara Connolly Deputy Edorsit Robert Gibbons, Alice Payne Social ediaM angerM Kate Byrne rtA Kate Byrne Ella Sloane ashion F Gelsey Beavers-Damron Ciará n Butler, Millie Brennan Film Savvy Hanna Cathal Eustace od F Molly Guy Lambton Lauren McKenna Games Robert Gibbons Ryan O’ Connor, Gelsey Beavers-Damron eturaLi Róisín Ní Riain, Brídín Ní Fhearraigh-Joyce Meg Melvin Music Hannah Quearney Gale Aitken Sex Alice Payne Shannon Connolly, Karla Higgins Thetra Gráinne Mahon Leah Downey TV Gillian Doyle Adam Balchin esPlac Hilary Mullen Gabriela Grzywacz Gaeilg Yu Hua Chaomhánach Nina Nic Mhánais T.AL Sophie Furlong Tighe, David Wolfe eadH fo tionsaIlur eadH fo yaphogrtP

Emily Stevenson

Megan O’ Rourke outyLa Ciara Connolly, Robert Gibbons, Shannon Connolly, Gale Aitken, Gabriela Grzywacz, Alice Payne

CONTENTS Letter From The Editor

Art & Design

Art as Propaganda Why Does Art Make Us Cry?

Fashion

A Young Man in Old Man’s Clothing The Way We Are Now

Film

Wit: The Metaphysical Sonnet of Cinema Campness and Feminism in The Love Witch

Food

The Wonder of Soup with Friends Me and Food, Food and Me: Rethinking the Concept of Food

Games

1 2 4 7 10

12 14 16 18

DnDnD: A Guide to Adding Disability into Your TTRPG 20 Lower Your Expectations 22 FIFA 22 and The Problem of Microtransactions 24

Literature

The Year Love Didn’t Find a Way // Flash Fiction Edna O’Brien, Scandalous Woman The Value of Popular History Bad Art Friends

25 26 27 28

Music

29 Let it Be (Super Deluxe) // Review Eight Early 2000s Artists that Should Make You Think 30 “That Was a Little Fruity”

Sex

Students and Sex Shops Bicons: Characters Who Have Helped Shape Bi Representation Over The Last Decade

32 34

Theatre

A Review of Heathers: My Personal Return to Live Theatre Disguised Cruelties: In Defence of The Theatre Kid

36 38

TV

Succession and Why it Resonates Beyond The One Percent Union Representation on TV

Places

Childhood Nostalgia: My Grandparents’ House I Planned Your Bermuda Trip So You Don’t Have To!

40 42 44 46

Gaeilge

An Fhadhb atá Agam le ‘Scéimh Ghlan’ Níl Aithne ag Netflix Orm

ALT.

An Ode to Pre-Owned Books Love Letter to The Cold Perspectives on Emigration The Hunt for the Perfect Costume

48 49 50 51 52 53

GLASS GIANTS

PHOTOS BY O.T., SATWICK CHANDRA & MEGAN O’ROURKE

Letter From The Editor As we move towards the festive period, I am sure I am not alone in fearing the rise in Covid cases and increasing restrictions on our social activity. While this uncertainty is undoubtably a source of concern for many in our Trinity community, I think it is important at a time like this to hold tight to what is certain; the support we can give to those around us, and the support we can receive if we are brave enough to reach out for it.

This issue of TN2 is a culmination of the creative support our staff have shown to each other, and to our contributors. Think of it as a warm blanket to give you comfort during your study breaks on a cold Winter day.

In this issue, we celebrate the art that moves us, the fashion that makes us who we are, and the places that make us feel at home, be it sitting in the theatre watching a musical, or spending time at our grandparents’ house. Also featured is the newest instalment in our flash fiction series, as well as wonderful submissions from many talented photographers and artists, that brighten up our pages.

I’d like to thank our hardworking TN2 staff once again for all their help in putting this issue together, and our additional contributing writers, illustrators and photographers, who have shared their perspectives and creativity with us.

As the nights grow darker, we must continue to bring light to each other in the safest way we can, and it won’t be long until the sun will shine on us all once again.

Best Wishes and Warmest Regards, ART BY MEGHAN FLOOD

Ciara x

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ART AND DESIGN

Art as Propaganda ‘All art is propaganda’ — in many cases, these words by George Orwell are intuitively true. While the colourful, striking propaganda poster of the twentieth century is largely a dead medium, much of the art we consume on a daily basis nevertheless seeks to covertly influence our perspectives, opinions, and preferences. The books we read subtly lure us towards the author’s views on issues like work, sex, or climate change; the blockbusters that dominate the box office not-so-subtly promote the United States military (see any Marvel movie of the past decade); even the music we listen to can carry a strong message behind its upbeat surface, such as Green Day’s ‘American Idiot’, or Childish Gambino’s ‘This is America’.

What do we mean when we discuss propaganda? A quick Google search tells us that propaganda is “information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote a political cause or point of view” (also apparently a committee of cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church responsible for foreign missions, founded in 1622 by Pope Gregory XV, but that’s besides the point). The word itself has its roots in the Latin word meaning ‘propagation’, the wide promotion of an idea or theory, and while it often has negative connotations, this is not necessarily reasonable.

While it tends to conjure up images of the Third Reich and totalitarianism, many democratic governments and diverse political movements utilised propaganda in the 20th century; it is not strictly a tool of ‘the bad guys’.

Oftentimes, propaganda art is best at conveying a message to the masses, or pushing a specific political ideology - take, for example, the iconic images of Rosie the Riveter, or patriotic Uncle Sam. However, such propaganda posters are generally considered weak in artistic terms. “Propaganda is a much maligned and often misunderstood word,” said Joseph Goebbels, Reich Minister of propaganda in Nazi Germany, in 1933. “The layman uses it to mean something inferior or even despicable. The word propaganda always has a bitter aftertaste.” But despite the tragic irony of Goebbels’ words, this quote rings true; not all propaganda is created with malicious intent, nor is it all objectively inferior as an art form. Orwell reiterated this sentiment in relation to art, stating that whilst “all art is propaganda”, it is important to distinguish between “good” and “bad” propaganda. Picasso’s ‘Guernica’, which remains a potent political symbol today, is frequently acknowledged as a form of anti-war propaganda. The painting portrays the devastating impact of a Nazi bombing practice in the Basque region of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War. This stark rendition of the tragedy’s aftermath is devoid of colour, intensifying its dramatic effect. Furthermore, Picasso opted to give the artwork a bold matte finish - a chilling reminder of the loss of life that occurred that day.

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Some 20th century art movements, such as abstract expressionism, of which Jackson Pollock was a leading figure, openly embraced the concept of pure aestheticism, and strived towards the ideal that art should be completely separated from ideology. However, not even artists within this circle could escape from the clutches of Cold War propaganda, as their own work was adopted as a political and cultural weapon to establish American supremacy.

Abstract expressionism was reported to have been promoted and funded by the CIA during this period of ideological warfare, as a means of associating America with freedom of expression and creativity. Regardless of the artists’ intentions, their work was used for propaganda purposes, seemingly furthering the point that art cannot exist outside of the bounds of the socio-political contexts of its time.

But in what sense could Orwell reasonably claim that all art is propaganda? Can it be true that art in every form is an expression of values? When Wordsworth eulogises Tintern Abbey, we see his high regard for the natural world; Caravaggio’s many depictions of Christ display his value for religious faith; even when we see Fiona marry Shrek, we are influenced to value true love over superficial physical appearances. These works of art necessarily allocate value to and prioritise certain things over others, and encourage us to take on these values for our own.

Even something as simple as a painting of a green field, a mountain range or a seascape, in vying for our time and attention, influences our values, and consequently our politics.

WORDS BY ELLA SLOANE AND DAVID WOLFE ART BY MEGHAN FLOOD

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Why Does Art Make Us Cry?

Inspired by James Elkins’ Pictures & Tears, Gale Aitken asks Trinity students what art has made them cry, and why.

‘A tear, like a blob of mercury, can’t be pinned down. So why should I try to understand people who cry in front of paintings? [...] For a simple reason: tears are the best visible evidence that a person has been deeply moved.’

James Elkins Why does some art make us experience an outpouring of emotion? Is it due to the beauty, the technique, or an internal and emotional reason unrelated to the work itself? As someone who is constantly crying (and most especially around art), I wanted to understand why others have similar reactions. Below are four Trinity students’ responses to my question, “Has a work of visual art ever made you cry?”

(Responses have been edited for brevity and clarity. Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault)

Annabel Merheim-Kealy: 4th Year Classics Student

What? The Milkmaid (1660), Johanness Vermeer When? Late 2017 Where? In a History of Art Class Why Did It Make You Cry? “I cried about this while writing an essay about which painting I would save from the Rijksmuseum […]. It sort of took me by surprise that I had to give myself a minute to just have a little weep before I could finish my referencing. I have a personal connection to this painting because it introduced me to two of my passions: History of Art as a whole and Vermeer himself. […]

The atmosphere of the scene and how incredibly tangible […] it is made me cry; how [the milkmaid] is drawing out the task of pouring the milk, a small ritual I find incredibly touching. She has prolonged the […] serene moment in her busy day, and […] we have been permitted to share it with her. [There is] such intense clarity thanks to Vermeer’s delicate and incredibly detailed handling of the scene. I truly feel like I could be there in Delft with her on a slightly cold April morning. [...] What really set me off in the end though was writing about her small, almost imperceptible smile that […] looks like she might be about to sing to herself. That […] is what makes this woman feel real to me, […] and makes Vermeer’s attention to detail so worthwhile. I can place myself in the room with this woman, I can feel the weight of the jug she’s holding, and I can hear her quietly singing to herself nearly 350 years after it was painted. And now I’m crying again.”

Leigh Winkelhake: Fourth-Year History and Classics Erasmus student What? Bath Curtain (1992) and Edge of the Tub (1994), Hugh Steers When? Spring 2021 Where? Twitter Why did it make you cry?

“Pretty much all of Hugh’s paintings have gotten me emotional, but [these] ones moved me most and really got me crying.

Hugh illustrated the experiences [...] of queer people who came before me and who lived – and died – through the height of AIDS epidemic. Queer love was made something to be ashamed of […] but Hugh embraced it. His art deals with painfully beautiful intimacy, tender moments that […] make time stop and make you feel like the only thing that is important in life is the love you feel right now. But these moments are plagued with mortality and suffering. [...]

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His art makes me cry because I continue to struggle with openly expressing queer love when others can see. I am fortunate enough to exist in a time where the stigma has lessened, a privilege Hugh was not given. To see his art unabashedly display the intricacies, the sublime and the tragic, of queer love made me feel emotions that I can’t always put words to; I [feel] grateful for medical advancement that curbed the epidemic, frustrated that so many suffered so deeply, seen through the depiction of non-heteronormative love, but also feel longing, to feel such a closeness that the subjects had.

Hugh painted intimate moments […] but thousands of people [...] saw themselves within them. [...] His art was so important to the gay community of the time and continues to be deeply appreciated within the queer community.”

Luke Hayden: Third-Year History Student What? One: Number 31 (1950), Jackson Pollock When? June 2019 Where? Video essay on YouTube (Nerdwriter1, How Art Arrived at Jackson Pollock) Why did it make you cry?

“It floored me, utterly, and I can’t place a finger on why. I usually get nothing out of abstraction, and Pollock in particular was just a name, but I came across a video essay on this painting and was stunned by how much this got to me emotionally. I cannot say I wept, as it would be untrue - rather, I was so overcome with the despondence, and pure, unfettered feeling within the painting, all chaos, that I could do nothing but sit there, and let [the emotions] wash over me.

The first reaction was the strongest, as ever, but seeing it will never not have an impact on me.”

ART BY EVE SMITH 5

Anonymous Student What? Judith Slaying Holofernes (1612), Artemisia Gentileschi When? Around May 2020 Where? Tumblr compilation about survivors of sexual assault (SA) Why did it make you cry?

“This was during a period where I was processing a very violent sexual assault I experienced when I was 18. […] I didn’t have the capacity to talk about what happened to me so I would listen to a lot of music/watch a lot of cinema/read a lot of books that dealt with the themes of SA and all the messy awful conflicting feelings that come with experiencing it.

I’m still not too sure if it’s appropriate to refer to my anguish like that or whether this makes me a “bad” victim, but it was the only way I could make any sense of what happened to me. […] I sobbed for Judith, Artemisa, myself, the girl I used to be, and the capacity for love that I had which was ostensibly dashed. I felt a kinship with them, comparable to the sorority I found within online survivor communities at the time, that I couldn’t express to friends or family […].

I think that the painting’s association with the monolithic “Female Rage” I see discussed in online circles can be very reductive […]. [The painting] embodies a unanimous “Female Solidarity” that was both absent and present in my own life. Unlike Judith, I felt like I didn’t have a watchful eye or the aid of a servant and that I had to seek that support out for myself. Little did I understand that this support was ubiquitous in my own life.”

Quick Fire Crying Round Eimear Cuddihy, Third-Year English student: Rose (1966), Agnes Martin

Jessica Allen, Third-Year English student: Arrival of a Train at Vienna Northwest (1875), Karl Karger.

Gale Aitken, Third-Year English student: Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion (1944), Francis Bacon.

WORDS BY GALE AITKEN

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FASHION

A Young Man in Old Man’s Clothing As far back as I remember, I’ve dressed for comfort. Indeed, as a teenager, I would routinely wear my fauxleather school shoes and track pants together. When my family protested, I would reply that it was suitable for every occasion. Smart casual; the shoes were smart and the trousers were casual! This was a joke that I found consistently funny. No one else did. I don’t think that this has changed - my philosophy on dressing for comfort, not the hilarity of the joke - but my style has evolved in a more formal direction. In fact, I found that I have unintentionally developed a sort of uniform: button-up shirt, jeans, knitwear, boots. Like a cartoon character, my everyday wardrobe has become some variation on a singular theme. Even during the summer, the only major change is the lack of knitwear - beyond that, sleeves get shorter, jeans become jorts, and boots become canvas shoes. I have to stress that this style seemed to happen independent of me and I have found myself (now that I have to once again leave the house on a daily basis) taking stock of my wardrobe - not in any “eradicating fast fashion” way or any “time to head to the clothes bank” way - but just asking myself : why am I wearing this? Why has this become my style? Who is this even for?

That last question is one that genuinely keeps me up at night. Who is my appearance for, exactly? It can’t be me; I can’t see myself during most of the day. So, it must be for others, right? This question always rears its head when I am in front of a mirror with a razor in hand. My facial hair grows quickly and I daily have to make the decision whether I’m going to be clean shaven or not. It doesn’t make a practical difference to me. It mostly feels the same. As long as I remember to moisturise, it doesn’t even get itchy at that awkward mid-length. Of all the people I interact with on a daily basis, I am the one who looks at my face the least, so, in a sense, I am the one least impacted by it. I don’t even feel more or less confident with one look rather than the other. Any time I have tried to come up with a rationale for preferring one over the other, the logic feels retrospective and strained. I have grown a beard for people and I have shaved a beard for people (and, indeed, I have done both to spite people too), and none of it particularly bothered me, personally.

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My instinct is to say that this is wrong. Surely this is wrong. Our appearance is an extension of ourselves! It is an expression of our selfhood! Is my conception of my own self so fragile that it can be changed on whim to please the people around me? After giving it (too) much thought, I think I’ve realised that there are elements of my appearance that simply don’t impact me, and my beard is one of those. I have been completely clean shaven and had an unruly beard and both feel the same. It’s not that my appearance was dictated by other people, but instead that this element of my appearance did not matter to me, so I was willing to take suggestions from the crowd, as it were. But that is clearly not true of everything.

In August of 2020, I was playing Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze with my brother. After I, once again, wasted all of our lives narrowly missing jumps and running directly into enemies, my brother asked why I sucked at this game, when I am typically mediocre. Leaping to my own defense, I replied, “It’s not my fault this game is so blurry!” The game was not blurry. I needed glasses. As I was trying to pick out frames, none of them worked.

They were too boxy, too sleek, too modern. I was getting headaches straining to focus on things at a distance, but I could not bring myself to buy and wear a pair of glasses that didn’t feel right. I couldn’t even explain what was wrong with the pairs of glasses I didn’t buy. If I were solely dressing for comfort, I would have bought the first pair that fit. If I were dressing for others, I would have bought the first pair that my mam insisted looked good. So it’s clear that that is not what’s happening. It was my third visit to the optician when I found the pair that I would wear: they are circular, tortoiseshell, with a small gold-coloured bridge. They fit.

There is something perfect to me about knitwear, hence why over the pandemic I became one of those people who took up knitting. It is a comforting activity that I am terrible at. I have only successfully knitted one scarf which is riddled with holes and is genuinely one thread pull away from total disintegration. Yet it fills me with pure joy when I wear it. It’s too small to properly tie around my neck and so it mostly ends up draped around it, more decorative than anything else. When I wear it, I feel protected, though not from the elements. This rag is mine. Entirely mine. I run my thumb over the stitches and know that each individual one was an active choice I made. I poke my finger through a hole and smile at my little mistakes. Even if it isn’t warm, it is warming. Even if it isn’t comfortable, it’s comforting.

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Nothing brings me more joy than a jumper or a cardigan.

My outfits are usually planned around which piece of knitwear I am going to wear that day. I have a funky cardigan with multicoloured geometric patterns which I have nicknamed my “party cardy.” This stands in opposition to my more conservative “business” cardigan. I have an oversized jumper that I have nicknamed my “hungover jumper” (for obvious reasons). I have a grey jumper with dark sleeves that is for more formal occasions. All of these have, at various stages, been described stylistically as old man clothes. (They are also all vintage, so it is true on two levels.) In fact, the adjective that is most commonly used to describe my dress sense is geriatric or grandfatherly.

When it is described as such, I generally feel a small sense of pride. This is how I have come to understand my style.

I have long had issues with my own masculinity and I am still struggling to articulate exactly how I have never been sporty or confident. In the company of other men, I tend to feel out of place. I have always identified as male, but have never really felt masculine. The only form of masculinity that has ever felt accessible to me is this grandfatherliness. It is a form of masculinity that is comforting and gentle; it is kind and welcoming; it is more concerned with being loving rather than being strong. I think this is why it matters so much what my glasses look like and matters so little what my facial hair looks like. I need my glasses to project this version of myself - no hard edges or modern designs. But with this form of masculinity, whether I am bearded or not doesn’t play into it. Santa Claus is bearded; Charlie Bucket’s grandfather isn’t.

I wish I could say that my fashion was brave or my fashion was out there. I wish I could wear what I wanted and defy expectations. I often see people around the Arts Block wearing gorgeous, striking, bold outfits and feel a sense of admiration towards them. But for me, my wardrobe needs to be a place of stability. It is the part of me that is consistent and reliable. Comforting and warm. Gentle and kind. It is a limited selection of jumpers and cardigans and warm jackets and shirts that to me are subtle variations on that same theme I mentioned earlier. It’s a theme that I love to hear every day and it’s one I love to play for those around me. I dress for myself and I dress for others and I dress for comfort, and I feel incredibly lucky that those three things coincide.

WORDS BY ROBERT GIBBONS

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The Way We Are Now: How the pandemic has changed how we dress The coronavirus pandemic has changed our lives in more ways than we can count. From strict lockdowns and mask-wearing, to a newfound fear of germs that the world will probably never manage to shake, there is no denying that the pandemic has left its own individual stamp on everyone. Unsurprisingly, this can even be seen in how people dress.

With the return of late bars and the reopening of nightclubs across Dublin City, this has never been more obvious. Before the pandemic, bodycon dresses and strappy heels were the order of the day in every club in town. But now, that has all changed. People are swapping their stiletto heels for a pair of Doc Marten boots and their slinky mini dresses for wide-leg jeans and oversized blazers. Does this mean that people are sacrificing style for comfort? Certainly not. Does it make for a much nicer and more comfortable experience standing at the side of Camden Street at three in the morning waiting for a taxi? Absolutely.

It seems that our old ways of dressing really are a thing of the past. People are dressing for themselves now, to feel good in their own skin. Gone are the days of dressing to fit in or dressing to fit the occasion. Now, people are dressing for how it makes them feel, not for how it makes them look.

This idea of “dressing for oneself ” came to prominence about halfway through the first lockdown. At that point, people were over the matching oversized tracksuit sets and the surplus of loungewear hauls plastered everywhere across social media. They were craving style. They were longing for that euphoric feeling of getting dressed up in their best clothes.

Cue the emergence of that bizarre phenomenon at the end of the first wave that saw people donning their best outfits to sit in front of the television and watch Netflix nursing a glass of wine (does anyone remember #Quarantinechic?). Suddenly, getting dressed up was not just about looking good anymore. It was about feeling good about how you look. There is a marked difference.

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Since nightclubs reopened, this difference has really been brought to the fore. Dancefloors have been a sea of bright colours – neon orange, cobalt blue, bright green – all because people are starting to recognise the importance of dressing for themselves. Gone are the days of monotonous black bandage dresses and nondescript slinky co-ords. Now it is all about self-expression, comfort and pure, individualistic style.

This phenomenon is not just exclusive to nightlife. One only needs to walk down the street to see how the pandemic has changed how people dress. Athleisure was on the rise before COVID-19 hit, but now it has reached an all-time high. Skinny jeans are a thing of the past. Hoodies and sweatshirts are reigning supreme. Leggings paired with an oversized blazer and a grungy snapback has become one of the most common and stylish outfit combinations on the high-street. Many workplaces are also seeing a significant change in how their employees’ dress. It seems that people are not ready to return to the stiff suitand-tie look typically endorsed by corporate firms, and offices are very aware of this. An increasing number of workplaces are going business casual, with some even allowing jeans and trainers on certain days of the week. This is a major turnaround from the pre-Covid days of formal attire and uber strict dress-codes.

This huge change in how people dress is indicative of the huge change that has occurred in society as a whole. Fashion is often considered to be reflective of the society that it is a part of. In the 1960s for example, new, daring trends such as the mini skirt came into fashion in response to the beginning of the sexual revolution and increased equality between men and women. It comes as no surprise then that the pandemic has had such an impact on fashion.

In the future, fashion historians will come back to conduct analyses of this period in history.

What exactly will they conclude? As of right now, the answer is uncertain. They will likely note our initial susceptibility to loungewear during the pandemic and our subsequent attraction to getting dressed up to sit in the sitting room. They will then study the immediate aftermath of the COVID-19 years, and will analyse how a return to increased individuality was seen during the initial stages of reopening society. But right now, the only thing that can be said with certainty is that the pandemic has changed the way people live, the way people work, and, of course, the way that people dress.

WORDS BY MILLIE BRENNAN ART BY ELLECIA VAUGHAN 11

FILM

Wit : The Metaphysical Sonnet of Cinema “You have cancer.”

And thus begins Mike Nichol’s 2001 Emma Thompson starrer, Wit. Wit is so much more than a film; it is cinematic poetry. And rightly so, as it pays homage to a genius of English literature, John Donne. Apart from quoting his poems, the film itself is a sonnet; oozing with metaphysical conceit and saturated with wit. Based on Margaret Edson’s book, it was written for the screen by Nichols and Thompson. Bagging seven Emmy nominations, Wit beautifully celebrates literature and makes a sincere comment on life, drenched in thoughtfully poetic dialogues coupled with Thompson’s stellar performance. More than anything, it tells the story of “profound simple meaning sacrificed to hysterical punctuation.”

After Dr Vivian Bearing (Thompson), a professor par excellence of 17th century English poetry, specialising in Donne, receives the news of her advanced metastatic ovarian cancer, she joins a clinical trial which immediately labels her a “significant contribution to knowledge.” She feels almost a sense of pride, standing at this junction, as no one understands life and death better than a scholar of the Holy Sonnets. Professor Bearing develops a love-hate relationship with her illness; constantly breaking the fourth wall, she narrates her experiences and sentiments. Dotted with witticisms and repartee in the beginning, these expressions are reduced to silence by the end. Shot in no less than a single hospital room with some flashbacks of lecture halls, the film compels you to restrict yourself in terms of space, and in this cage, Vivian’s fears and anxieties are intensely brought to life. Her dry humour and sardonic acceptance of her disease culminates in a subtle desire to just wrap things up, and simply put, die. In the end, she is aptly laid to rest by her mentor’s felicitous quoting of a line from Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Donne looms large as the presence of life itself in Vivian’s story, and it is from him that the film borrows its style. Vivian becomes a poignant eulogy to her favourite poet. Donne was born in 1572, and though he lived much of his life in poverty, he is now regarded as the central figure in metaphysical poetry. This form of poetry was defined by its use of conceit, analogies defined by their unlikeness to the subject matter. Donne, for example, used the image of a compass to describe the relationship between the poet-narrator and his beloved in The Sun Rising. Apart from these outrageous metaphors, metaphysical poetry was dominated by paradoxes and wordplay. The script of Wit does justice to the latter of these two, while the former is central to the very plot of the film. “One thing that can be said about an 8-month long cancer treatment is that it is very educational,” says Vivian, “I am learning to suffer.” It is not the cancer, but its treatment that torments her. “John Donne would revel in it. I would revel in it if he wrote a poem about it. My students would flounder in it because paradoxes are too difficult to understand,” she remarks on her situation. The other, more elusive paradox, is that her doctors are not interested in treating her but the cancer.

After achieving brilliance in pedagogy, Vivian is now distinguishing herself in illness. A scholar, she understands her position in the clinical trials and knows that the articles her doctors write will not be about her but her “ovaries and venereal cavity.” To the question of ‘I,’ her awareness reduces her sorrowfully but truthfully to a “specimen jar.” She repeats the words uttered to her right in the beginning and can’t help but well up at her humiliation. Jason, a young fellow (and her former student) thinks that cancer is awesome and has no qualms about saying the same right to her face. The cold and callous attitude of those surrounding her (all except Susie, the primary nurse) is not only a critique of the research-over-humanity belief, but a reminder to Vivian of her own ruthlessness. She is transported to a day back in class when she unflinchingly rejected a student’s request for an extension in lieu of his grandmother’s passing away. She now seeks the very kindness she once denied her students. Broken, weak and starved, gone is the strict and stubborn Vivian whose lectures were famous in college for their intimidating standards and demands. She just wants to curl up in a little ball now. Even her dead body is put to medical urgency and scrutiny, and she seems to have been erased in the tussle between blue-code and no-code. It is Susie who comes and saves her. The pursuit of knowledge to an extreme that strips off all humanity is deconstructed by one of its own believers. And the polemic launched is fierce.

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So much so, that towards the end, when Evelyn Ashford, an old and influential professor of Vivian begins to recite Donne to her, Vivian stops her saying she doesn’t want to listen to his poems anymore. Instead, Ashford reads out The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown. In one of the initial flashback scenes, we meet Ashford for the first time and see the balance she has found between uncompromising scholarship and human connection. After a discussion on Donne’s Death, be not Proud, she tells Vivian to go out into the world, but Vivian ignores her advice and chooses the library instead. And while this obsessive chasing of pedagogical excellence is responsible for Vivian’s frostiness and haughty nature, and consequential loneliness, it is this very pursuit that helps her accept her fate.

This is my play’s last scene; here heavens appoint My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my race, Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace, My span’s last inch, my minute’s latest point; And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint My body and my soul, and I shall sleep a space; But my’ever-waking part shall see that face Whose fear already shakes my every joint. ~ This is my play’s last scene (Holy Sonnets) One short sleep past, we wake eternally And death shall be no more, Death, thou shalt die. ~ Death, be not proud (Holy Sonnets) Vivian finds her play’s last scene, her minute’s last point, a little too pointy but also knows that there is nothing but a breath, a comma separating life from everlasting life. Ashford draws Vivian’s attention to the meaning needlessly dramatized by changing the comma between ‘more’ and ‘Death’ to a semicolon.

Because Death is a comma, a pause, not a dramatic exclamation mark and no, it is not wit but truth. It is truth in its simplest, most unadulterated form. And we realise that Vivian was right in proclaiming herself a connoisseur of mortality, for she is a professor of 17th century English poetry, specialising in Donne’s Holy Sonnets. As Vivian’s pale lifeless body lingers in the closing shot, in her own words, “the poetic encounter is over and we are left to our consciousness.”

But Vivian has made sure that we are not alone, for she is leaving us with something miraculous—the poems of John Donne. Literature is enough and also not enough, but this farewell, this valediction is one that forbids mourning.

WORDS BY KHUSHI JAIN

Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat. ~ A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning

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Campness and Feminism in The Love Witch Although The Love Witch (2016) may not have captivated mass audiences, ask anyone you know who spends a lot of time on Twitter or TikTok about the film, and they will most likely be familiar with it. They may not have seen the film directly, but they have probably seen aesthetic stills and clips from the movie featuring quotable lines like “I should have known… he’s a pisces”. This is perhaps a new formation of how a film gets a ‘cult status’, where a film’s ability to gain a following after its release is now predicated on how easy it is for it to gain a following online. The Love Witch’s obsession with aesthetics and overt dialogue lends itself well to tweets and screencaps, so it is easy to see why it has garnered such a space in the online sphere. The film’s ability to be continuously replicated in this way could be seen as part of its ‘camp’ status, as its theatricality is consistently reproduced in a way that affirms its artifice.

The campness in the film is also conducive to what is defined in Susan Sontag’s well-known essay ‘Notes on Camp’, where she refers to ‘camp’ as a love of the “old fashioned” and “unnatural”, that provides a sense of detachment. This can be seen through The Love Witch’s use of technicolour aesthetics, ‘60s film style lighting and costume, which are sharply contrasted with the ‘natural’ ideas of paganism and witchcraft. Sontag explains that “time liberates the work of art from moral relevance, delivering it to the camp sensibility” which is certainly pertinent to the way that The Love Witch utilises ‘60s mise en scene to situate the main character Elaine’s absurd perceptions of what a woman’s role is.

This notion of camp in The Love Witch is something writer and director Anna Biller completely rejects however, as she has been frustrated with the idea critics posit that the film is essentially an homage or pastiche of a ‘60s movie.

Biller writes in this statement on twitter: “With The Love Witch, I was not trying to make a ‘60s movie. I was just trying to make a film using classic lighting and design techniques, emphasizing a strong heroine, color symbolism, strong psychological themes, and glamour.

I also wrote a script with the rhythms of a play, because I like movies made from plays. The actors’ performances came out of that writing style. They gave sincere, professional performances and were not trying to be “stilted” or “wooden”. Since these are mostly techniques no one uses anymore, it came out like a ‘60s movie. If I could have one wish, it would be for people to stop talking about it as a pastiche, parody, homage, or simulacrum of a ‘60s movie and start talking about it as just a movie.”

This statement is fascinating, because within it Biller is asserting that her intention with the movie should always be considered when critiquing the outcome of the movie. Her ‘wish’ as well seems strange to me, because almost no movie is without aspects of simulacrum or homage. The idea of something being “just a movie” is admirable but completely abstract. Would she take issue with someone calling her movie ‘postmodern’? Maybe postmodernism is just camp for straight people.

Further, whether the dialogue in the movie is intentionally stilted and wooden, and whether this is a product of the script or the acting, the dialogue and the way it is spoken is undeniably unique and comical. Arguably, if Biller intended the dialogue to come across as sincere, this is all the more case for the film’s campness, as Sontag argues ‘pure’ camp relies on being unintentional, innocent and is created when something attempts yet fails at seriousness.

Perhaps I am mistaking camp here for what should just be called ‘obviousness’, as throughout the film characters say things that have almost no subtext and essentially can be seen as thesis statements for the film. To be clear, this is not a criticism I have of The Love Witch, as I actually think that it is within this method that the most genius points of the film are made, hence why I reject Biller’s own distancing from it. For example, one of the witches in the film says that “they teach that a ‘normal’ human being is a hyper-rationalist, stoic male, and that a woman’s intuitions and emotions are illnesses that need to be cured.” Out of context, this reads as an almost academic statement that could be made about the film that can be taken completely at face value. Within the context of the film, where Elaine is a character so addicted to the notion of love that she casts spells on men and kills them, there is a comedic component of course that the so-called ‘intuition’ Elaine follows really is quite hyper emotional.

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Of course Biller is not enforcing the idea that women are irrational, as the magic Elaine performs really does seem to work, but she is using the character of Elaine to make fun of the way men fear the love and desires of women; the inspiration for the film came from a book that posited the reason women could not be in fulfilling relationships is because they bombard their men with too much love. Therefore I don’t think it is correct if one is to argue that the feminism of the film comes from the character of Elaine herself, or that women in the audience are supposed to identify with Elaine.

This is a mistake I think feminist analysis often reductively partakes in; a character is feminist or not and so the movie is feminist or not. Rather, Elaine is symbolic of the absurdities of expectations of women or alternatively could be read to reflect the absurdities of liberal ‘choice feminism’.

What I actually found most interesting about The Love Witch is that it partook in something I had not seen before: it pointed out the absurdities and made fun of aspects of supposedly ‘feminist’ spiritual teachings. It also overtly shows the gendered, and somewhat patriarchal, teachings of paganism and witchcraft through overt visuals where many naked women surround one clothed man. The assumption that all Wiccan teachings are feminist is reductive and Biller points to, through dialogue that explicitly states such concepts, how they can be a way of mythologising, and to some degree naturalising, gender differences. It is debatable whether this can constitute feminism, but again the power of The Love Witch lies in its ability to unsubtly say that this is what it is and you can do with that what you will. This is similar to the way the film embraces liberal feminist ideas that sexuality and femininity are inherently empowering for women and thus it embraces these ideas within its form too; a male gaze and fantasy is completely conformed in its cinematic techniques. To me, this is reminiscent of the campness or ‘obviousness’ of They Live (John Carpenter, 1988) as it is a film that ruthlessly criticises capitalism and the propaganda that surrounds it, yet in its form and style it almost epitomises the ‘80s capitalist Hollywood action movie aesthetic. Both films shamelessly confront you with an overt message of critique and yet aesthetically indulge in the thing they are critiquing, although this is evidently more intentional in The Love Witch.

Biller rejects interpretations of her film as a ‘sexploitation’ movie but also as a ‘feminist’ one. Whilst I think there are arguably some feminist points made in the film through irony, I strongly appreciate Biller’s own assertion in her blog that “To be feminist, a movie has to have the express purpose of educating its audience about social inequality between men and women”. Biller argues that there is an obsession in film criticism to label movies feminist just because we like them, or because they are not misogynistic, when very few films are actually feminist or intend to develop specifically female consciousness. The increasing association of moral critique with art criticism, in my view incentivised by short form websites like Letterboxd and Twitter, leads people to assume that because they like something and they are feminist, the thing they like must also be feminist, and vice versa.

It is clear though that Biller is acutely aware that feminism in movies is to do with more than just plot and characters however, as she visually references Jeanne Dielman when Elaine is getting dressed in the mirror. This is a striking and clever reference, as conceptually the films aren’t worlds apart, but stylistically Jeanne Dielman seeks to destroy all forms of the male gaze and the pleasure associated with it, whilst The Love Witch appropriates this gaze to an absurd and even comedic degree. As clever as Biller’s writings are, whether her own film is ‘camp’ or whether it is feminist is not really up to her. It is up to you.

WORDS BY ANGEL RUANE-MOORE ART BY MEGHAN FLOOD

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FOOD

The Wonder of Soup with Friends I have never been one for soup making, although I do love its water-based cousin, broths. Soup always struck me as too much work, or too complicated, or maybe something that necessitates a blender. Since coming on Erasmus, however, I have embarked on a soup-loving journey, and I don’t think I will ever return to the way I was. The soups I have been making are so simple and heart and body warming; I will attempt to convey the experience of making them. Soups are a one-pot dish, and are perfect for when you have some extra time on your hands, and are feeling a little lazy. It is often raining, and in France everything is closed on a Sunday, so it feels just right and ever so cosy to stay in. These soups are always made as a team with the people in my residence, and we use them as a way to spend time together, and also as a chance to get in the nutrients that our weeknight pesto pasta doesn’t quite provide us with.

In my provincial French town, we load up each Saturday morning at the market with an insane amount of seasonal fruit and veg. Coming into autumn, one week there was a pumpkin or two scattered across the stalls, and then all at once it was leafy greens and squash galore.

The plan often starts around lunchtime on a Sunday, with perhaps two people. Whoever is met along the way to the kitchen is invited. Each person brings slightly different ingredients, and a different perspective on how they should be cooked. Having lived at home for most of my college life, I have never had the chance to witness the different ways in which people approach cooking. I have been really enjoying it – I am prevented from slipping into a rut of making variations of a few go-to meals, and my eyes are opened to new attitudes!

For perhaps the only time in a week, we all possess enough – and possibly even a surplus – of fresh produce, and we are eager to share. We convene in one of the many kitchens of our residence. Each time, we go in confident, and then realise that no one is ready to take the role of head chef – so much the better! Everyone slots into chopping, stirring, spice-finding – we have usually forgotten most of our ingredients and cooking apparatus in our rooms, so we traipse back and forth through the corridors. One of us has an egregiously large pot, borderline industrial - the perfect item for a communal meal.

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We start off with a base of onions and oil, maybe garlic. The spices would do well to go in here as well, but we are usually not yet sure exactly what flavours we are going for. We then add the long-haul veg – the pumpkin, or potato, squash, whatever is to hand – usually along with lentils and a good amount of salt.

At this point there is a rush to add enough water to make sure all these things we have thrown in don’t burn the pan. We don’t have a jug, and cups and mugs are too small, so we scramble to find another pot, or, at the very least, a teapot, to carry the water from the sink to the ridiculously large pot on the stove.

The majority of the job done, we are able to relax a bit. Someone has put on music, we can dance around and chat, and take turns stirring and taste-testing, marvelling at how we have somehow managed again to create this hearty meal. This time is almost always interrupted by us slowly realising that we have forgotten some key ingredients – we have salt but no other flavours, or chilli but no salt, etc. We are forced to make several more trips back to our rooms. In the end it doesn’t even matter - with these soups you can chuck in whatever you want at any point, the soup bubbles away for any length of time you need, and in the meantime you get to just hang out, easy-peasy – someone has to go run do something, but the soup is on no timer! The longer you leave it, in fact, the soupier it gets. More water can always be added, the spinach thrown in at just the end, the tomatoes can go in at any point. This kind of soup is the most chilled-out dish you can make.

When eventually we decide that it is done, we assemble with our bowls and spoons and dole out our hearty (and usually predominantly orange) meal. We feel accomplished, despite the simplicity of what we have done. We don’t really know each other, but it feels like we do, and we eat slowly, helping ourselves to seconds and thirds, enjoying one another’s company.

WORDS BY MOLLY GUY LAMBTON

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Me and Food, Food and Me: Rethinking the Concept of Food I never imagined I’d have woken up one morning to ponder my climate-anxiety driven existential crisis about the future of food. I never imagined I’d have to ask myself if I was completely and utterly mistaken about the concept of food. And yet, here I am, empathising with the planet as I would another human.

We are all aware we live trend-led lives, and the effect of that on food and the way we look at food has been gradual and altogether a little mysterious. Terms like homogeneity, mass mono-cropping and greenwashing are great, but where are the billboards, the signs, the television adverts telling us that our convenience supermarket shopping habits have us wasting a third of all food produced globally?

That less than two percent of Irish farms are organic, like… really? I read somewhere that variety and creativity are key to getting out of the climate-food fear. We should forage. We should buy beans and pulses, buy unprocessed sugar, and buy bread made without additives. We should eat foods that are seasonal, and that are grown locally and ethically.

One of my favourite things to bring up when I talk about food ethics is avocados. Avocados are an absolute fascination, because no one seems to know if they actually like avocados, or if society simply persuaded them that avocados are incredible. Apparently it did, because in the US, when the ‘avocado trend’ hit, the price for just one wholesale box increased by over fifty dollars. And no one seems to discuss the fact that a lot of that money goes to the cartels. Which, in perspective, probably increases an avocado’s ‘cool’ factor. What is going on here?

I then found myself in the fruit and vegetable aisle of the supermarket. It was blackberry season.

Great, I told myself, buying seasonal, a win. Then I read the label. Imported. Amazing. One 100g box of blackberries is 100g of carbon dioxide if it’s imported by boat. Let’s not discuss the consequences if it’s flown in. I’m not going to lie, this is where I got freaked out. How do I shop ethically? How do I shop knowing what I know? Can I ever buy climate-guilt free?

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As a society, we overproduce while simultaneously underestimating our capacity to protect our biodiversity with the food we have. At the end of the twentieth century, there were twelve plant species and five animal species supporting a huge 75% of global supply, despite 3000 edible plant species existing.

Now this is where the mindset change came. Although it’s not an awfully happy statistic, there is something hopeful in it. There are thousands of plants here in Ireland that we aren’t even using, that we don’t even know about. There is room for the future of food to blossom if we step back from processed products, produced to ‘keep’ with things that hurt our digestive systems, our gut health, our lives. There now exists such an open-minded approach to food in society. And it’s not about being a foodie, nor about the ‘pretty dish’ that looks adventurous. It’s about stepping out into nature and reconnecting with food in a fresh way.

Little steps are everything and they can feel like nothing. Little steps to recognise what the planet can offer before it slides into an irreparable state can stop people going to bed hungry, stop them chucking food out, stop them promoting food that isn’t technically even food?

A slice of supermarket white bread is made with thirty seven additives. Centuries ago, bread was made with only three ingredients. It is not with scientific discovery or development that they’ve realised such food is better for us - in fact, the opposite is true. They’ve taught us to ignore the natural potential of food in favour of a longer shelf life. Food knows what it’s doing, but only if it’s real food.

So after my existential crisis, I decided that we all have the power to rework in our minds how we think about food. Because the future of food, and therefore the future of the planet, is quite literally in our hands. All we have to do is listen.

WORDS BY LAUREN MCKENNA

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GAMES

DnDnD: A Guide to Adding Disability into Your TTRPG Fantasy has always had a disability problem. Whether it be novels, video games, or table top, genre fiction constantly struggles with representing and creating spaces for disabled individuals. As an avid Dungeons and Dragons player and a disabled Dungeon Master (DM), I’ve always pushed for disability to be part of the game I love because it is such an active part of my life. As DnD has become more popular within the last few years, there have been great moves to have the game be more representative of all identities, like race and gender. However, disabled players are often left out of the conversation. For many, the inclusion of magic or advanced science appears to be mutually exclusive from disability, and to some extent, I see where this argument comes from. If there’s magic in the world, wouldn’t everyone be healed? Why would you purposely have a disability in a game where you can be anything? This thinking fundamentally misinterprets what it means to be disabled, as well as why many play DnD. Having a disability is more than a physical state - it is also a social one. I am not disabled due to my health, but due to society’s lack of accessibility. Any society with inequality and injustice is a society that fosters disability and most stories take place in an unfair world.

There are necessary steps to take when adding disability into Tabletop Role Playing Game (TTRPG) for a fully inclusive game, since the game has a history of ableism, especially with its villains. Within DnD, there are opportunities that allow for disability to be a part of a complex, fantastical narrative as well an important addition to the game to make it more inclusive. Being disabled is an identity worth exploring and those who want to have it in the role play should not be punished for it, but instead see it as a valuable opportunity to create a more involved and interesting campaign. Now, these tips can be used with any system, but I will be using Dungeons and Dragons specifically. If you do not play DnD, this article may sound like gibberish. Furthermore, there may be minor spoilers for several actual play shows that I am using as examples, in case that is something you want to avoid. I also highly encourage you to talk to your DM and party before adding a disabled character to make sure they are ready to take on correctly representing your character in the game, creating boundaries, and if you are an abled bodied person, considering if you should play a disabled character to begin with.

It is important to understand that disability is already inherent to the game of DnD to some extent. You create a character with a set of skills where you have advantages and disadvantages. Skills you are disadvantaged in can be considered as a representation of disability. Some races have inherent abilities that others don’t, such as halfling luck or elven darkvision, while others are physically limited, for example the kenkus who can only repeat words they’ve already heard before. If you are a human in a party of elves while traversing dark caverns, you are effectively disabled in the situation. Further, as a disabled player, I am often drawn to classes like a wild magic sorcerer, which have a system where a player lacks control over their body because magic sometimes works against them instead of with them. To me, it’s very similar to how I relate to sensory overload. While many argue that fantasy and magic aren’t compatible with disabled players, these traits represent how the system is willing to work with disability, even if the creators haven’t intended it themselves. All of this is a good start and allows for a base where homebrewing further representation is possible.

When creating disabled characters, it’s important to distinguish between visible and invisible disabilities, as the mechanics will work differently. Visible disabilities include anything that can be seen on the outside, for example, blindness or a loss of limbs, whereas invisible disabilities can be chronic pain, neurodivergency, or mental illness. It’s important to understand that just because something is labeled a ‘disability’ doesn’t mean they won’t have some sort of advantage.

I’ve heard it argued that for example if you have a blind character they should use the stat block of the blindness spell, but personally, knowing multiple visually impaired people, they are perfectly able to exist that way and are often more in touch with their other senses, which I would argue would give them proficiencies in perception and have the Alert feat, which is a characteristic a player can add that will make them impervious to sneak attacks.

Feats are a great way to explore disability and can flesh out your character in general. I recommend adding Alchemy so you can make your own potions or Tough so you can increase your hit points.

Classes I’d recommend for creating a disabled character would be Druids, Artificers, Sorcerers, and Wizards, as they all have a magic system that would lend well to a disabled Player Character (PC).

As a Druid you can wild shape and as an artificer you can build a mechanical creature to help you out. Personally, I think a blind Barbarian who can smell their enemies’ fear would be super cool.

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You also need to decide whether your character is going to begin the campaign as disabled or have that change happen within the story. Again, these are important topics to discuss with your DM, but if you’re comfortable with it, it could make for some interesting game play. I encourage all DMs to make damage count. My personal house rule is if you’re making death saving throws and succeed, you will come out of that encounter physically impacted. Not only does it add stakes to the gameplay, it also represents a real facet of life, as disability is something that can happen to anyone at any time. I think two great examples of this from actual play shows come from the character of Merle in The Adventure Zone. The character begins their campaign able bodied but loses his arm in combat and is physically disabled. Not only is good and impactful game play when relating to the concept of damage, it’s also a great example of respectfully creating a disabled character. They also are not punished for being disabled and are quickly given tools to help them within the story by the DM. I highly encourage any DM who is considering adding disability into their games to not make the PCs struggle to find physical aids. If a fighter can easily get a sword, someone can simply find a cane.

If you are beginning the campaign disabled, consider if you need any aids. I think the use of a familiar or a homebrew figurine of wondrous power — basically an animal that stays in statue form until you need it —are great additions if your character needs a service animal, as they already functionally work that way in the game. For a walking aid, you could always use a simple staff, but using a magical item instead could add to your character and make it so you aren’t carrying any items that weren’t multifaceted. I personally think having an immovable rod as a walking stick would be cool as I am constantly knocking over my cane in real life. If your character wants to communicate in a nonverbal way, the use of a message stone will channel the message cantrip and allow them to communicate to the other players without speaking. There are also many cool homebrews for adding magical prosthetics into the game, specifically one titled “Plym Woods Powered Prostheses.” I’m currently using it in my home campaign for my disabled tabaxi artificer rogue and it is definitely a great addition and expands the game play in really interesting ways. And of course, who can forget the inherent epicness of the battle wheelchair because if I saw that warrior coming for me in battle, I’d definitely run the other way. There’s also a lot of interesting ways that invisible disabilities can be used as an advantage. For example, characters with ADHD get advantage on Investigation checks and those with Chronic Pain roll advantage on Medicine checks and have a channel pain feat, where they can use their pain as a weapon.

While I can understand the argument that a world with magic is one without disability, that simply isn’t true. I know because, to some extent, we live in that world. There are many tools and aids that would make disabled individuals’ lives so much easier that exist, but due to inequality and prejudice, most disabled people can’t access them or society refuses to include them. This would be no different in a fantasy world. The issue isn’t the person with the disability, but a world that refuses to be accessible. This is why having disability in the fantasy is important because it allows disabled individuals to explore a world where they can save the day and make active change on their own. I’ve used DnD to explore my sexuality and gender, as many do, but it should also be a place to explore your disabled identity in a safe way. I highly encourage visiting Dnddisability.com as they have made many homebrews to use as a basis. They also have an expanded Paladin subclass for the Oath of Accessibility which I will be using the next time I get a chance to be a player and not the forever DM. These tips are only a jumping off point to a world of much more fascinating and inclusive table-top experiences, and in the end, games like DnD are only fun if everyone has a seat at the table.

WORDS BY GELSEY BEAVERS-DAMRON

ART BY MEGAN FLOOD

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Lower Your Expectations In August 2016, a game which was to change the world of gaming forever was to be released. Hello Games’ No Man’s Sky was to be an experience far beyond the imagination of any player. It promised an infinite galaxy of procedurallygenerated environments (which would take a whole article to explain, give the term a Google if you are unfamiliar with it), each planet more interesting than the last. The game was to put the player in the role of an explorer who had crashlanded on a planet where they would encounter a wide variety of dangerous fauna, hostile surroundings, and unfriendly factions; however, expectations for the game were not met. Destructible space stations, the ability to play with friends, portals and butterflies are among the seemingly endless list of features that were promised for the game, but not delivered at launch. Understandably, players were unhappy with this, with the game receiving a 12% rating on Steam and calls mounting for refunds to be provided to those who had pre-ordered.

So, what did Hello Games do wrong? Why did thousands of players, who had all been waiting for years to play their game, suddenly turn against them? The answer is simple: over-marketing. Hello Games were given significant attention from the press after they first revealed No Man’s Sky at the VGX awards in 2013; this gave them the boost they needed to seek help from a publisher. Sony Interactive Entertainment soon offered to provide funding to further develop the game. However, Hello Games refused to take this offer, and instead accepted funding solely for the promotion and publication of the game. This was their fatal mistake. No Man’s Sky soon became one of the most anticipated games of the generation, promising features which had previously been thought to be impossible. Players simply couldn’t believe just how incredible this game was going to be.

When they pre-ordered the game in masses, it swiftly became one of the most pre-ordered games in video game history.

Upon the game’s release, gamers realised they had made an awful mistake. The promised impossible features were, surprise surprise, impossible. Hello Games’ golden child quickly became the Suicide Squad (2016) of video games; it was a colossal disappointment. The gameplay was boring, the landscapes were repetitive, and the creatures were bland. Barely any of the features promised in the game’s extensive advertising campaigns were delivered. Of course, the developers were aware that this would be the case long before the game’s release. However, any delays or negative comments about progress in development would surely have received massive backlash, as the extensive advertising had already led to a snowball of excitement that had long-ago grown out of control. Hello Games instead decided to wait out the storm and stand strong against the backlash at release. They have since continued to update the game with streams of new features and expansions, eventually implementing many of the features that were originally promised into the game. While it may not meet the standards that the community had hyped up for it pre-release, in its current state, the game is actually an incredible technical achievement, and just a lot of fun. The lesson? Stop hyping up games to unrealistic standards. If advertised features seem too good to be true, they probably are. No Man’s Sky was never going to be the impossible game that was promised, but this does not mean that it could not still be a great one.

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While we might have thought that video game developers would have learned their lesson after the disaster that was the launch of No Man’s Sky, many releases in the last few years have shown that they did not. Most notably, CD Projekt Red’s (CDPR) Cyberpunk 2077 made the exact same mistake in 2020. After seven years of troubled development accompanied by extensive marketing, the game was released in an awful state. Keanu Reeves’ famed excitement around the feeling players would experience walking around the game’s gritty, bustling Night City had prepared the gaming community for an experience unlike any other. CDPR’s development history helped players to believe that this was possible. They were responsible for The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt which, after surviving a rocky release, has become known as one of the best video games available for purchase. However, CDPR did not have such luck with Cyberpunk 2077.

Cyberpunk was released in a practically unplayable state on last-generation consoles, prompting CDPR to offer refunds on the game, and causing Sony to pull it from the Playstation Store. The game’s setting was empty, the gameplay was mediocre, and unless you had the most expensive PC on the market, it ran like a Nintendo game from 2007. CD Projekt Red had fallen victim to the same problem as Hello Games. Advertising worked too well, the developers had made impossible promises at the beginning of development, and the hype quickly grew into a significant force of destruction.

As time went on, player expectations only got higher and higher; in the end, they wanted a game that could not be made. Upon releasing a game that was completely unplayable on many devices and frankly mediocre even when it could be played, the studio experienced a wave of backlash that many believe they will never recover from. Pressure from shareholders led the studio to make promises that it could never achieve and, as a result of this, players held expectations that were never going to be materialised. The developers themselves became victims of hateful comments and death threats online. No developer should have to go through this, especially considering the fact that many concerns raised by developers in the studio were completely ignored. It seems that the gaming community needs a reminder that advertising decisions in big studios aren’t made by the people working on the product. Once again, if you think a game is too good to be true, it probably is.

This brings us up to late 2021, where it is currently just a few months up until the release of the gaming community’s latest obsession. Elden Ring is the spiritual successor to my favourite video game series of all time; Dark Souls. These games are perfect for anyone hoping to mix immersion with challenge, awe with frustration, and their controller with a wall. The games became an instant cult classic, but have really taken off in recent years after the release of Dark Souls III, the last entry in the series, propelled it into the mainstream market. After the impressive improvements made between previous entries in the series, the gaming community have exceptionally high expectations for Elden Ring, which is being directed by Hidetaka Miyazaki: the mastermind behind the whole Souls series. In case expectations weren’t high enough for the game, A Song of Ice and Fire (the book series that Game Of Thrones is based on) author George R.R. Martin has written the world and backdrop for the game. Like everybody else in the community, I am incredibly excited for the game. However, it seems that some people might have their hopes set a little too high. The feeling in the community is very similar to the feelings people had before the release of both Cyberpunk and No Man’s Sky. FromSoftware don’t seem to have learned from Hello Games or CDPR’s mistakes, as seen in a recent delay announcement which stated that ‘the depth & strategic freedom of the game exceeded initial expectations’. FromSoftware are either extremely confident in their product, or are simply complete idiots who haven’t learned from the marketing mistakes of their competitors. Either way, they are under immense pressure to release the best video game on the planet, lest they face the wrath of the tens of thousands of fans who are expecting them to do so.

WORDS BY RYAN O’CONNOR

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FIFA 22 and The Problem of Microtransactions Microtransactions are a growing trend within the video game industry, they can be found lurking in games ranging from Rockstar’s hit Grand Theft Auto 5 Online (still no sign of a sequel) to Supercell’s mobile game Clash of Clans.

Microtransactions, in short, encourage gamers to spend real life money on unlockable playable content in game. This article uses the example of microtransactions in EA’s FIFA 22 as a case study to explore the detrimental effect that they can have on the gaming experience.

FIFA 22’s Ultimate Team (or FUT) is the game’s most popular mode. Players build teams of their own and compete against teams built by other players. In 2020, EA made $5.6 billion in net revenue from Ultimate Team game modes, a substantial portion of which came from their FIFA franchise. Predictably, then, micro-transactions continue to feature and play a heavy role in this year’s game. Here lies the major problem with FUT; the mode is structured so that the highest rated players with the best performance stats are, realistically, only attainable to players who can afford to spend real money on FIFA points to buy packs, or who are willing to dedicate most of their free time to playing the game. New shiny player cards are constantly being churned out by EA, so much so that if a player stops playing the game for a week before coming back, their team will be dated and sluggish compared to players who have been grafting on the game the whole week or those who have the privilege/stupidity of spending their, or their mum’s, real money on FIFA points to get the new cards. While players should be rewarded for playing the game, the pace of change creates a divide where if you don’t have the time to spend, the only way to remain competitive against players with a similar FIFA-playing ability to yourself is to spend real money of FIFA points to buy player packs in order to upgrade your team. Player cards really make a difference in FUT gameplay, and if you have a notably weaker team than your opponent, your likelihood of losing the game increases massively.

Trading the FUT market has been rendered ineffective in FIFA 22; EA has over-supplied the amount of good gold players put in ‘randomised’ player packs, making their price very low as a result. This means that even if you pack a good player, it’s still very hard to make enough coins to buy the best players in the game. For example, in FIFA 21, a gold Kevin De Bruyne card would set you back 290,000 coins this time last year, whereas De Bruyne now costs 70,000 in FIFA 22. Pelé, one of the best cards in the game, will cost you 7.2 million. This predicament easily lends itself to increased spending of real-life money on FIFA points in hope of packing an exceptional player card to either sell or use in your team, as players are unable to trade or play their way to a position where they can afford the best cards. It would not be pessimistic to assume that the over supply of good gold cards is an intentional move by EA to encourage even further spending on the loot-box elements of the game. This all has the effect of making the experience of playing FIFA often feel unfair, and is underpinned by the prevalence of microtransactions. FIFA is a competitive game; professional FIFA players play against each other for massive cash prizes in e-sports tournaments. It’s a shame then, that the game, which already costs in excess of €70, is not a level playing field. Often, professional FIFA players or their teams must spend thousands just to be able to play at a competitive level. At least in Activision’s Call of Duty: Warzone, another prominent game in the e-sports arena, every gun/gizmo is attainable through gameplay. In contrast, FUT features incredibly powerful player cards that even professional gamers or content creators who have poured significant portions of their incomes into the game would be incredibly lucky to obtain, let alone the average casual player.

The influence of micro-transactions can be felt across FIFA’s game modes outside of FUT. If EA invested half as much time into its other modes such as career mode or volta football, the game would be much more enjoyable and wellrounded. However, investing more resources into FIFA’s other modes would risk FUT players playing them instead, thus reducing the number of players spending money on FIFA points. This has the effect of seriously inhibiting the creative possibilities of FIFA 22, as, presumably to appease shareholders, the whole gaming experience is slanted towards FUT and spending money on FIFA points.

WORDS BY FINN VIJAYAKAR 24

LITERATURE

The Year Love Didn’t Find a Way (and how to make any crisis personal) // Flash Fiction ‘When it was in the Extremity, there was no such Thing as Communication with one another’ A Journal of the Plague Year, Daniel Defoe Today marks the day I haven’t been touched in six months. It is hard to establish if I have felt love during my sexual experiences before or not. Usually when I’d ask myself these questions I would have sex to test out the hypothesis.

I haven’t been touched in six months. First I think fleetingly and then obsessively if the boy in the distanced queue for coffee is making eye contact with me because he finds me attractive or because I’m standing too close to him.

Outside a study hall someone tries to make conversation with me. I realise that I have the responsibility to protect others, and I blank him. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate in feigning deafness. But had I engaged him, it would have been my first face-to-face conversation that month.

I feel that my avoided body is visible to everyone. Untouchable, unreachable, uninhabitable; grazing my skin. Dually paranoid, I sense that nobody and everyone can see that I haven’t been touched in six months.

I try to connect my loss of physical love to the psychic wound that the COVID-19 death toll has caused in lives worldwide.

Countless grandmothers, fathers, wives, whose lives are casually misdirected like letters in the post. A bureaucratic mess.

All happening at the same time that I lost my life.

I scroll the headlines and wonder how long we can maintain absurdly separate lives.

I wonder if I will live like this indefinitely. If I will become increasingly shrivelled, emptier and capacious to the stage where no future love can ever heal my cavern heart.

The problem with living in Isolation City is that no one ever comes to visit.

I am marvelling at and refusing the possibility of love being perpetually absent from this point onward in my life.

Regretfully, being nothing and no one did not make me kinder, or a better reader or maker. Famously, Joan Didion wrote her way through grief. My hero (so sue me), David Foster Wallace wrote through depression. Too many writers to name wrote reams despite a bad drinking habit, but I was not creative in the midst of crisis. Just a body scared and alone.

I count how many lovers I’ve had as a reminder that I am desirable. Each and every night the faces attached to the list become blurrier.

I Google how baby monkeys mutilate themselves when deprived of touch. I’m thankful for the cruelty of the behaviourist scientists who designed these experiments, proving that social species need contact. If our wellness and sense of belonging is dependent on our ability to touch one another, should touch be a human right? Something every person is entitled to?

Surely every child (and by extension, person) deserves food, love, shelter and refuge. But where would this leave every nursing home, direct provision centre and mental institute? Maybe deprivation of touch is a secret ingredient of our modernity and shared spaces.

I wonder if the lauded myths of self-improvement during the pandemic are disseminated to obscure that others are as mutilated by absence as I am. Or if I’m just hysterical.

The absence is electric and numb, all burnt hair. I applaud the universe for behaving in an unethical manner towards me. It’s a privilege to have the sanctuary of isolation, the infertile silence and the consummated distance.

I count the faces of lovers. I kiss myself in the mirror. I ask was I ever there. Can I grasp again.

WORDS BY BRÍ JOYCE ART BY KELLIE NASH

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Edna O’Brien, Scandalous Woman Last December, Edna O’Brien reached her ninetieth birthday as the undisputed grande dame of Irish literature. The Irish Times ran a piece full of fellow Irish writers doffing the cap. In O’Brien’s adopted home across the Irish Sea, The Guardian proclaimed her “Ireland’s greatest living writer”. Photographer Mandy O’Neill’s new portrait of O’Brien was unveiled at the National Gallery of Ireland. O’Brien herself marked the occasion by delivering the 2020 T. S. Eliot Lecture in conjunction with the Abbey Theatre.

Such unanimity of adulation in her later years can obscure the uneasiness with which the literary and scholarly establishment has often received O’Brien. Fame followed hot on the heels of her 1960 début The Country Girls, but O’Brien’s path to literary respectability has been a bumpier affair.

The prohibition of her early work in Ireland was undoubtedly personally challenging for O’Brien, but hardly hampered her writing career. The ban on Country Girls meant O’Brien joined the ranks of many of the leading lights of Irish literature: “the best banned in the land” as Brendan Behan put it. However, the frank treatment of female sexuality that got her in trouble with the censors would go on to have a curiously double-sided effect on her reception as a writer. On one hand, the fact that a young female writer would dare to write such “scandalous” things brought a certain sensational, erotic frisson to O’Brien’s work. On the other, it was dismissed as lightweight, covering material more often found in frothy romance novels. O’Brien’s flair for the melodramatic only encouraged the cynics.

This mixture of intrigue and dismissal combined curiously with O’Brien’s national identity. Her Irishness, for many interviewers and critics, granted her a titillating exoticism. Journalists commented on her wit, her red hair and green eyes, her “soft, sweet Irish brogue” — and her physical attractiveness. An image emerged of O’Brien as the wild Irish girl, the bold, rakish colleen, a “smashing red-haired Irish beauty”.

While this slightly disreputable image boosted her profile, it was not conducive to serious engagement with her work.

As early as 1967, critic Seán McMahon commented that O’Brien shared with Behan the “dubious fame” of being better known for her persona than her writing. Perhaps nothing better represents this confusion of O’Brien the persona and O’Brien the author than the frequency with which her own image appeared on the covers of her books. She gazes wistfully from an early 1960s paperback of The Country Girls; she defiantly puffs a cigarette on August is a Wicked Month (1965); she smiles knowingly on The Love Object (1968). The appeal of the O’Brien persona (and O’Brien’s own willingness, at times, to play into it) has attracted no small amount of sneering from her detractors.

However, with the decades has come an increasing appreciation of how O’Brien’s work bravely shed light on aspects of life that were previously confined to the dark — particularly aspects of the lives of Irish women. When President Michael D. Higgins inducted her as a Saoi of Aos Dána in 2015, he praised her as a “fearless teller of truth”. This welcome refocusing on the merits of O’Brien’s work is surely due to many things, such as O’Brien’s creative longevity and more enlightened ideas regarding female writing (one would hope).

More pessimistically, one might wonder if the simple fact of O’Brien’s age has allowed her to escape the kind of dismissal still faced by young female writers. As novelist Elif Shafak commented in a 2019 article in The Atlantic on “the gender seriousness gap”: “In a patriarchy, a woman writer will be respected only when she is ‘old’ in the eyes of the society, only when she is defeminized, desexualized”.

Yet as late as 2018, critic Sinéad Mooney wrote that “[i]t is, in fact, difficult to think of another major Irish writer whose work still provokes so much unease, whose reputation is so unsettled and unsettling.” Ian Parker’s 2019 New Yorker profile of O’Brien proved Mooney’s point. This oddly suspicious piece questioned the personal and professional hardships faced by O’Brien and slyly scorned the way in which she has crafted her public persona. It was a striking example of the cynicism that has dogged O’Brien, all the more striking for its recency.

Perhaps the main change since the 1960s and 1970s, then, is not that O’Brien causes less controversy, but that she has more supporters willing to take on the naysayers. In the wake of Parker’s controversial profile, she was defended in articles in the Irish Times and the Dublin Review of Books: a marked improvement on excoriation from the pulpit. For better or worse, O’Brien’s power to provoke debate remains undimmed.

WORDS BY RÓISÍN NÍ RIAIN 26

THE VALUE OF POPULAR HISTORY Popular history has massively influenced the stories we read, the films we watch and much of the content we digest across other media. The division of Shakespeare’s plays into tragedies, comedies and histories shows the relevance of popular history to the stories we enjoy. Retellings of events like the Wars of the Roses and the assassination of Julius Caesar provide the material for some of the most beloved plays in literary history.

But popular history extends beyond fictional retellings of historical events. Non-fictional popular history brings vividly to life the things we were taught in school, things that can come off as irrelevant when learnt through the lens of dry modern scholarship.

Ancient Greek authors of history weren’t constrained by the rules of modern scholarship, where any and all agendas must be done away with, leaving only cold facts. Herodotus didn’t even constrain himself with a linear format. In his Histories, he interrupts his narrative of Persian conquest to provide an ethnology of Egypt, all in order to hammer home the point that the Athenians are far more like the Barbarians they looked down on than they wished to acknowledge. He deploys the dramatic flair customary in the Histories to make this argument, allowing himself to tell fantastical stories in order to bring into focus the bigger picture he is pursuing.

More recent historical scholars of course deserve respect for the work they have done in the field. Works of modern scholarship take the road of avoiding bias and restricting themselves to strict linear narratives in their pursuit for the truth. However, compared to what the ancient writers gave us, they lose some of their flair. This is what makes popular history such a vital genre, as writers of popular history don’t need to constrain themselves. They don’t teach history, but tell it.

Dan Jones launches readers into the medieval worlds of the Templars and the Crusaders, whilst Tom Holland takes us all the way from ancient Rome to the deserts of the Middle East to witness the birth of Islam. Neither of these authors make any effort to present a “scholarly” approach to their subject, instead embracing the drama of the events they’re describing, making characters of people who lived and died, and most importantly, putting readers there.

As humans we embrace drama, allowing ourselves to live and feel through the characters we empathise with. Regardless of scholarly professionalism, there is no way of teaching history that compares to letting the reader experience for themselves how these people may have lived and died. A good example is Heartstone by C.J. Sansom. A fictional historical murder mystery set in 1545, just weeks before the French were expected to invade England, the book provides an account of the accidental sinking of the Mary Rose, a famous warship that tragically sank before any real battle took place. There is no scholarship presented, no case made for the causes, no real “teaching”. But its evocation of the drama of the moment and its emphasis on people lets you empathise with the consequences of the event, the human tragedy, the psychological impact such an event had on the people who experienced it.

Scholars in history tend to look down on popular history as sub-par compared to the professional scholarship studied in classrooms. I remember asking my lecturer about the validity of Barbara Tuchmann’s fantastic A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century as a source, only for him to respond with a disdainful: “That’s popular history”. Now, it would have been inappropriate to use this slightly biased account in a college-level essay. But this scornful attitude neglects the fact that many history students wouldn’t be studying history were it not for the dramatic popular history we first read. I certainly wouldn’t have considered studying Roman history had I not read Mary Beard’s excellent historical retelling of the city, SPQR. At the end of the day, history is a story still in the making. Yet no one is interested in a story that’s irrelevant, which modern scholarship often is for those not studying history. Few can get invested in history through high-end history books, with all facts presented as they are and any dramatic touch done away with. Popular history deserves recognition not only for the fantastic stories told, but also for the gateway into history it represents, and the chance to experience the story of the past in all its dramatic flair.

WORDS BY JAMIE COX

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Bad Art Friends Last month, Robert Kolker published an article in the New York Times Magazine. ‘Who is the Bad Art Friend?’ outlined a tangled saga of passive-aggressive email exchanges and a short story plagued by ongoing lawsuits — a saga sparked by the altruistic donation of a kidney. The article, a wild read in its own right, carried echoes of a previous tell-all sensation published in The Cut in 2019. Natalie Beach’s personal essay ‘I Was Caroline Calloway’ detailed how she had ghostwritten the proposal for titular influencer-slash-scammer Calloway’s $500,000 memoir, and described the subsequent dissolution of their friendship.

While the set dressing differs in many respects, both articles are about delusion, writers, social media — and what happens when delusional writers are on social media. Writing, regardless of whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, is inherently (and precariously) personal. Dawn Dorland (the kidney donor) and Caroline Calloway (the would-be memoirist) learned this first-hand. Dorland’s fellow writer and friendly acquaintance Sonya Larson plagiarised Dorland’s Facebook post celebrating the unknown recipient of her kidney for a short story about a white saviour organ donor and an ungrateful Asian-American organ recipient. More objectionably, she also mocked Dorland in emails and Facebook messages to mutual acquaintances (since subpoenaed). Beach, meanwhile, presented a version of Calloway in her article that Calloway strongly objected to. The ethicality of what Beach and Larson wrote is open for debate — and has been debated, ad nauseum, on Twitter. At any rate, Dorland is now hounding Larson via a series of lawsuits, and Calloway frequently makes bitchy comments about Beach on Instagram, so the moral scales have more or less balanced out.

The most interesting part of all this is the extent to which these individuals lack self-awareness. Dorland struggles to comprehend the fact that, post-organ-donation, she won’t get a pat on the back from everyone she meets for the rest of her life. After attending a writer’s conference, she recalls being bewildered that more people hadn’t explicitly congratulated her on her altruism: “I left that conference with this question: Do writers not care about my kidney donation? Which kind of confused me, because I thought I was in a community of service-orientated people.” Meanwhile, in Calloway’s essay response to Beach’s article (the aptly named ‘I Am Caroline Calloway’), she laments that “real ingenues [sic] are either born fluent in extreme wealth or arrived at such a fluency from abject poverty by means that were unplanned. Like marrying rich by accident or being model-scouted at the local mall. Middle-class and upper-middle class girls like myself were supposed to be grateful we didn’t have it worse.” Boohoo.

Dorland and Calloway both have long-standing writing projects. Dorland has been working on a semi-autobiographical novel for many years, while Calloway continues to promise she will finish her aforementioned $500,000 University of Cambridge memoir. Neither of these projects have been delivered. (In Calloway’s case, this is despite having already accepted money for pre-orders. She is also, at present, selling 30ml bottles of grapeseed oil mixed with essential oils for seventy-plus dollars a pop as her supposed skincare secret. She has named this concoction “Snake Oil”.) Here, talking about writing takes precedence over actual writing. Self-presentation blurs with self-invention; Calloway trips over her own lies and repeatedly promises a book she will never produce, as Dorland waxes lyrical celebrating her organ donation on a private Facebook group she set up for that very purpose. Though to be fair, Dorland and Calloway are not completely comparable. Dorland’s murky intentions do not cancel out her incredibly generous decision to donate her kidney to a stranger, while Calloway sells squiggly Matisse knock-offs for $400 and secondhand books she’s written nonsense in for $40.

Returning to Kolker’s article, some readers concluded that the bad art friend was not Sonya Larson or Dawn Dorland, but Tom Meek — the hapless individual who first informed Dorland that Larson had written a short story about a donated kidney. But a cursory glance through the article’s digital fallout on Twitter revealed a beleaguered Meek anxiously clarifying to anyone who would listen that he had simply thought the similarities between Dorland and the fictional kidney donor a funny coincidence, and deeply regretted his very minor part in the entire incident. Likewise, Beach didn’t escape criticism over her own curated self-presentation in ‘I Was Caroline Calloway’. There are two sides to every story, etcetera, etcetera; but the slipperiness of a story unfolding in real time with real consequences is precisely what makes these articles, and the people (mis)represented in them, so fascinating.

WORDS BY MEG MELVIN 28

MUSIC

Let It Be (Super Deluxe) by The Beatles // Review In January 1969, just ten weeks after the release of the vast, maximalist explosion of creativity that was the White Album, The Beatles returned to the studio. There was a definite change in the wind in pop music that year with the psychedelic movement drawing to a close and the folk-rock and singer-songwriter genres growing approaching the 70s. Paul McCartney certainly sensed this, with the concept for The Beatles’ next album being a stripped back return to their roots.

These recordings were originally mixed by engineer Glyn Johns. However, they were rejected by the band and the project was ultimately abandoned while they moved on to Abbey Road. Finally in 1970, after John Lennon had left the band, producer Phil Spector created a new mix, adding his typical choral and orchestral flourishes to a number of tracks — his ‘wall of sound’.

This mix was famously disliked by McCartney since it went completely against his original rootsy vision. This led to him leading another version of the album, Let It Be… Naked, which removed the Spector overdubs and restored the stripped-back feel.

2021’s re-release of Let it Be is the latest in a series of reissued Beatles albums, re-mixed by Giles Martin, the son of The Beatles’ legendary producer George Martin. Sgt. Pepper’s, The White Album, Abbey Road, and now, Let it Be have all undergone a similar treatment: an updated mix and a littering of outtakes, isolated tracks, studio chatter and jams.

The new mix gives the songs an expected clarity and sheen. Let’s take the opening track, ‘Two of Us’ as an example: the opening guitar line has an immediacy and a crystalline brightness perhaps at the expense of the warmth of the original. The bass drum is much punchier as well. The production creates an interesting issue with the vocals. There’s a much clearer separation between Lennon and McCartney’s parts when singing in harmony which does, in my opinion, take away from the Everly Brothers-esque unity they achieved on the original mix of this track.

There are a number of other issues with the mix. One of Lennon’s greatest songs, ‘Across The Universe’, is impaired by an overbearing close mic effect on the vocals, while Martin elects for the Spector overdubs in ‘The Long and Winding Road’.

The two orchestra hits in the opening bars are a moment I’m sure will have certain sects of fans groaning.

There are a number of interesting outtakes in the album and some early versions of songs that would later appear fully fledged on Abbey Road, including ‘Octopus’s Garden’ and ‘She Came in Through The Bathroom Window’. Finally, the full original Glyn Johns mix is included.

When it comes to evaluating these “Super Deluxe” reissues, I’m left asking, “What is the point of them?” Fascinating as they are, I doubt anyone listens through the bonus tracks more than once, and the new mix is hardly revelatory. Why do we need a third release of Let it Be? And then it comes to me. The 4LP ‘Special Edition Super Deluxe’ set costs €160. And that’s all it really is, an indulgent birthday present for the Beatle maniac in your life.

WORDS BY CIARÁN DROHAN 29

Eight Early 2000s Artists You Were Obsessed With As A Child That Should Make You Think “That Was A Little Fruity” As the noughties revival takes the fashion world by storm, alerting the nostalgia brigade to such pop culture gems like The Simple Life and wired headphones (rip airpods, you didn’t last long), I think it is only fair to recognise the impact the queer community had on this era, and that this era had on the gays. Take a look at the top early 2000s artists that awakened all those baby gays way back when.

Britney Spears Okay, yeah, cliché I know. Not to mention she was the world’s most prolific popstar at the time, I mean, who didn’t love Britney? But there’s good reason Britney is so synonymous with the LGBT community – she encapsulates both the love for performance and over-the-top aesthetics found in queer art, a prevalent example of the moment being drag queens, and following her controversies of the late aughts, also encapsulates the feeling of being misunderstood and ostracised by the people who love to consume that art.

You need only look to Chris Crocker (now Cara Cunningham’s) viral video ‘Leave Britney Alone’ which exemplifies the empathy the LGBT+ community had for Brit’s circumstances, a video which was laughed at and has since been vindicated. That got heavy. Pop idols are gay, basically.

Dolly Parton

A girlboss, a gem, possibly the best country musician ever— Dolly Parton is the tolerant and accepting mother figure you always needed. She taught you that it’s okay to like rhinestones and long nails and still be a serious artistic and intellectual force. ‘9 to 5’ is literally a study in class consciousness, and I think the communist gays need to accept Dolly Parton as their comrade … unless … she is what awakened their class consciousness in the first place.Oh my God it’s turtles all the way d-

Aqua As trashy Eurodance dominated the clubs and the airwaves, Aqua stands out among the lot for their single ‘Barbie Girl’ which changed the entire game.

The song was irritatingly catchy, the lyrics lewd, but just about vague enough to get past the ears of illattentive parents. Who hears the name of a children’s toy and thinks: “Sure, it’s okay if my child watches this hyper-saturated music video on loop for hours on end, and it is absolutely not concerning if they then pivot to shot-for-shot remakes of that video made in The Sims 2”. I genuinely believe that if Aqua had not brainwashed all of us as children, irreparably warping our perception of what is listenable, we would not have the PC music or hyperpop that we have today.

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The Veronicas ‘Untouched’ is one of those insane tunes from the early 2000s that sadly seems to get forgotten from many pop medleys, playlists, and throwback stations – but do you know who remembers The Veronicas? Gays. One half of the twin duo, Jess Origliasso, literally dated Ruby Rose, the effervescent non-binary WLW awakening for so many Tumblr and Instagram teens in 2015 after her performance on Orange Is The New Black, as well as starring in one of the most gay panic-inducing music videos of the 2010’s, ‘By Your Side’. If that isn’t a bit fruity, I don’t know what is.

My Chemical Romance ….or really any pop punk or emo-adjacent music that isn’t Fall Out Boy. Look, don’t lie to yourself, former emo kids. The theatricality and gender-bending aesthetics of 2000s alternative music has queerness in its bones. Even aside from all the obvious takes that can be drawn from feeling angsty and confused in your identity and just wanting to scream to the tune of some horny teenager’s songwriting, the sheer depth of expression and artistry that is evident in this music is liberating. Being the weird goth kid, drawing endless anime and Tim Burton inspired OC’s, watching Warrior Cats AMVS set to MCR and Linkin Park songs. What a joyous form of self-fashioning, of discovering who and what you are in the world. Also, all the emos thought it was, like, way cool to be bi.

Robbie Williams Indeed, there may be something inherently alarming about the very idea of Robbie Williams. Being a childhood stan of Take That is somewhat forgivable, ‘Shine’ was part and parcel of the 2000s soundtrack. But Robbie? Mister Williams himself? Bear with me; He was a man marketed to the middle aged woman demographic, I get that, and isn’t there something inherently fringe to the idea of a child being obsessed with someone like that? Come on, they might as well have been watching Desperate Housewives or Sex and The City. Even, god forbid, Cougartown. Just think about it.

Literally Any Glee Cover Song Yes, the Glee cast rendition of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ had every child in an absolute vice grip — but in keeping with the aforementioned appreciation of the art of the extra (what I mean here is camp) found among LGBT circles and creators, hell, the show’s creator Ryan Murphy is gay, the association just makes sense. Not to mention, Glee was a forerunner in genuine LGBT representation in mainstream television, particularly in the teen demographic, and was really a pioneer of the growth in representation in the next decade. At which point I would like to note that Glee premiered in 2009 and technically shouldn’t be on this list, but I think it deserves to be here.

Nicki Minaj …..I point you to the Barbz.

WORDS BY GRACE MADDOCK-O’DRISCOLL

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SEX

Students and Sex Shops WORDS BY ALICE PAYNE

What do you picture when you think about sex shops? A seedy haunt reserved for greasy, faceless men to ogle over enormous racks displayed upon enormous racks of dirty magazines? PlayBlue’s sex shops couldn’t be further from this image, and PlayBlue co-owner, Robert Doyle, wants you to know it. Doyle’s aim is to bring sex toys and sexual aids to the mainstream market, and that means he wants students to know that sex shops are for them, and nothing to be afraid of.

PlayBlue are an Irish sex toy retailer. The company operates online (playblue.ie) and runs physical outlets in Tallaght, Kilkenny and Cork.

PlayBlue are currently offering a free gift to any student in Ireland aged 18 and over. All you have to do is walk in to a PlayBlue shop and show your student card to the person on the till. They also offer free condoms to every walk-in all year round, because safe sex is great sex. There is no purchase required, no obligation to join a mailing list, and, no, they won’t tell Simon Harris that you’ve been acquiring sexy products. Despite these incentives, and the fact that TU Dublin’s Tallaght campus is a stone’s throw away from their Dublin outlet, Doyle confesses that the company has still seen relatively few students walking through their doors. He believes that residents of Ireland haven’t entirely shaken off stigmas associated with sexual pleasure. ‘Sex-positive attitudes are increasing. For example, anal play is discussed as a mainstream act, rather than a scandalous kink. However, we have found that whilst people are accepting of sex play and sex shops as abstract concepts, there is a point at which our outlets become too close for comfort.’ Doyle specifically refers to the company’s attempt to open a shop in Drumcondra five years ago. ‘There were protests, suggestions that legislation should be introduced to prevent sex shops being established in built up areas, and the proposed opening was even discussed in the Dáil.’

Doyle believes that opposition to sex shops stems from a particular iteration of establishment which might parade hardcore, questionably produced pornography, or engage in dubious business practices, and, which, over the years, have actively increased the stigmas around sex. During our interview, Doyle repeatedly highlighted his effort to distance PlayBlue from this crevice of the sex shop industry. PlayBlue doesn’t sell pornography and Doyle ensures that his shops are bright, clean, and welcoming at all times. Welcoming, that is, so long as you’re over 18; PlayBlue are very strict with their ID policy to keep everything above board. Doyle notes: ‘Once it’s legal, we don’t care what you’re into. But, it has to be legal.’

The business owner jokes that sometimes the shop feels like a doctor’s office; the staff are used to customers asking all sorts of questions and getting to the root of what it is that they are looking for. ‘We like to promote ourselves as someone you can ask anything of,’ says Doyle. ‘We actually have an in-house sexologist that you can bring your questions to, free of charge, either online or in store. I don’t know of any other sex shop in Ireland that offers the same.’ Viktoria Laszlo, PlayBlue’s SexCoach, is both a Certified Erotic Blueprint™ and Accelerated Evolution Coach. She runs her own section of PlayBlue’s website, where she proclaims: ‘I help pleasure seekers, like you to create the passionate, juicy and satisfying sex life they are craving for. I start with hearing, seeing and feeling them without judgment.’ Viktoria encourages webpage visitors to get in touch with her directly by email and will provide a private one-to-one answer to any question. Viktoria also produces text-based blog and video content with advice on how her audience can improve their sex lives and on getting in touch with one’s sexuality and sensuality.

Doyle’s philosophy is: ‘We’re not going to shove sex education down anyone’s throat, but we’re happy to help if we can.’

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Doyle welcomes the work of various students’ unions across the country who have reached out to him looking to collaborate. ‘We’ve had loads of requests, and there’s still just about enough of a novelty aspect to sex toy bingo to make students’ introductions (or otherwise) to the world of sex toys fun.’

TCDSU has previously held a sex toy bingo. They have also, recently, awarded sex toys as the covetable prizes of a ‘Big Sexy Quiz of the Year.’ Leah Keogh, President and former Welfare Officer of TCDSU, highlights that the Union ‘Supports sexual empowerment in all of its shapes and sizes! Sex toys are just one fun way to spice things up!’

After speaking to Doyle, it strikes me that if you are looking to ‘spice things up,’ PlayBlue is a pretty good place to start.

Not only are the company student friendly, they aim to be a business you come back to time and time again. ‘We are an Irish business, employing Irish residents, and selling only within Ireland. If you’re buying from us, you don’t need to worry about import fees or an itemised customs declaration landing at your door.’ Doyle highlights that the company’s relatively small size, due to their sole focus on Irish consumers, benefits the customer. ‘We can’t afford to screw you over, because we have a limited market. You can’t go wrong, and if something does go wrong and you accidentally end up with a faulty product then we’ll just send you out another.’ PlayBlue don’t do returns because ‘you can never be too safe and the last thing we want is for you to end up with something used. Especially lingerie.’ Apparently lingerie returns are common enough practice with other online retailers, but let’s not dwell on that… On another ethical note, you’ll also be pleased to know that PlayBlue deals directly with the companies whose products they stock, or the companies’ main distributor(s).

‘We don’t buy knockoffs,’ affirms Doyle.

I realise that this article is starting to sound like a promotion… To reassure you: no money has changed hands; no dildos have been sent my way — though, PlayBlue if you did want to sponsor us..? I’m just kidding! What I’m not kidding about, however, is increasing awareness about the sex toy market which is there, waiting for students like us to come and explore. You don’t have to buy — just take a look if that’s what you fancy — but dip your toe, and empower yourself in the act of browsing. Oh, and, also, enjoy free delivery when you spend over €20 online, and a free gift over €30! Let’s get sexy!

For an online browse, please visit: www.playblue.ie If you would like more information about sexologist Viktoria Laszlo, see: www./playblue.ie/pages/viktoria-sexcoach

ART BY EMILY STEVENSON 33

Bicons: Characters Who Have Helped Shape Bi Representation Over The Last Decade The recent announcement that one of the world’s most beloved superheroes, Superman, is indeed bisexual has caused plenty of ruckus. Critics have questioned why this must be the case, and why they couldn’t create a new, bisexual superhero.

Bi representation has always been precarious. Many self-proclaimed bisexual celebrities seem to have had their identitiy rewritten. Freddie Mercury, for example, has become a gay icon, whilst David Bowie’s bisexuality is referenced with a passing gloss at best. So, in light of the precarious nature of bisexual representation throughout the generations, here are our Bicons of the last decade. I felt it was important to highlight where bisexuality is represented well, and tell you about some of the best shows to include diversity in this way.

My round-up focuses strictly on fictional characters, even though we do have many bi heroes championing in everyday life. Fictional characters tend to have more of an impact, as this representation reaches directly the teens and young adults of the age. Growing up, it was so extremely hard to see anyone, anywhere that represented how I felt; it wasn’t until I was 13 watching Glee that I realized people can indeed like both genders. Representation for me growing up was lacking, so I want to highlight where it has been done extraordinarily well.

What never feels to miss the mark when we talk about bisexual representation is someone asking if it’s necessary; and I assure you, every bit of bi representation in media is extremely important. With the precarious nature of famous people’s bisexuality being erased or rewritten, the biggest Bicons have to be those in the shows we watch and the books we read that are loud and proud about it.

Here are five bicons of the last decade; but I assure you, there are many, many more. These are just a few of a somewhat medium sized list of bisexual representation in media, that I hope will inspire so much more.

Magnus Bane (The Mortal Instruments) Magnus Bane is a self-proclaimed bisexual in the Mortal Instruments series. The character has been championing representation both on and off screen. In the Mortal Instruments books, he explicitly states “I think of myself as a freewheeling bisexual”, and as a young 12 year old who had yet to see any representation whatsoever of bi people, I was absolutely delighted. Throughout the series, Bane falls in love with Shadowhunter, Alec Lightwood. Their relationship later inspires his own book, The Bane Chronicles. Played by Harry Shum Jr. in the TV show Shadowhunters, Bane is powerful and charming, and doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being open about his sexuality.

Petra Solano (Jane the Virgin) Petra Solano, played by Yael Grobglas, was a central character in Jane the Virgin from the beginning, with fans always speculating about her sexuality. Throughout the course of the show, we see Petra embark upon a journey of self discovery like no other, when she meets the lawyer Jane Ramos. Solano is a strong and determined character from the outset, and her openness and journey with her sexuality throughout the show is something entirely relatable and very moving.

With Petra being entirely central to the show, her struggle to both realize her sexuality and then express her feelings was truly a milestone for bi representation. Additionally, the relationship between Jane and Petra is one that is so touching to watch, that I’d recommend the series for that alone.

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Rosa Diaz (Brooklynn Nine-Nine)

Rosa Diaz is a hard, sarcastic cop in the show Brooklyn Nine-Nine, whose coming out story on the show stayed with me long after I watched it. Both Diaz and the actress that plays her, Stephanie Beatriz, came out as bisexual around the same time, and it was a storyline in the show that was really beautifully handled. While Diaz tries to accept herself, we see support from her colleagues in the station, and terrible resistance from her family — which, wonderfully, she eventually overcomes.

The storyline’s and actress’s openness about being bisexual was truly monumental for bi representation, and has grown to inspire even more brave stories of representation.

Darryl Whitefeather (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is an Emmy-winning tv show that if you haven’t watched already, I seriously recommend you do. One thing the show gets positively right is its representation, and that’s not least in the inspiring character of Darryl Whitefeather, played by Pete Gardner. In the show, Darryl divorces his wife and then embarks on a journey of discovery himself, which leads to the discovery of his sexuality.

Darryl’s newfound realization of his sexuality comes with a song, “Gettin’ Bi”, which will forever live in my playlists, with lines like “I’m bi, bi, bi, until the day I die”. Darryl is truly the champion of being a proud, bisexual man, and he is willing to sing it for the world to hear.

Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy)

Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy)

No list about famous bi characters could exclude the extraordinary Callie Torres, played by Sara Ramirez. While Torres was originally introduced to the show as a potential love interest (and eventual wife) of George O’Malley, Callie’s journey on screen to discover herself is honestly the most stark and honest bi representation I have ever seen.

Being the longest ever running LGBTQ+ character on screen, Callie’s journey on the show is one to inspire anyone. As best said by Callie herself, “I’m bisexual. So what? It’s called LGBTQ for a reason. There’s a B in there and it doesn’t mean Badass. Okay, it does, but it also means Bi.”

WORDS BY SHANNON CONNOLLY ART BY BLÁITHÍN HE-ADLEY 35

THEATRE

A Review of My Personal Return to Live Theatre In December 2019, I received two tickets for Heathers: The Musical, which was set to perform a limited run in October 2020. It was one of those lovely presents where you know you have the tickets, but that you’re going to inevitably forget you have them and get a surprise day out a few months down the line. To quote Bo Burnham, “then, the funniest thing happened”’ - a mere three months later, the whole world as we know it tipped into chaos, and getting to witness ‘Dead Girl Walking’ performed live became the very least of my concerns. After a year and a half of constantly fluctuating restrictions, cancelled events and very little guidance on the recovery of the arts, I had completely forgotten about going. After two rescheduled performances, I finally got to attend my first live show in almost two years - and it was like being welcomed home.

I actually almost missed the rescheduled performance completely; it was only when Instagram stories with pictures of the programme and captions of “how very” followed by the milkshake emoji started popping up in such high volumes that I put two and two together. In a panic, I tore apart my house looking for tickets (because for some reason they were paper tickets and not e-tickets — what year is this?) but eventually, they were secured, a hasty plan was thrown together, and I added “Heathers!!!!” to my planner for the 22nd of October.

Pre-vaccination, being in crowded spaces, indoor or outdoor, was something that left me absolutely riddled with anxiety. During the summer I couldn’t have imagined being back in a restaurant, cinema or theatre in any capacity, so I found it extremely comforting that the policy in the Bord Gáis was to check both vaccine certs and ID. At this point in the pandemic, I couldn’t have cared less about having to wear a mask throughout the performance - I was just so delighted to be there I probably would have sat in the car park had that been a requirement.

As cliche as it sounds, the buzz in the theatre was absolutely palpable. I spotted many people dressed in subtle Heathers costumes, decked out in primary colour blazers and checkered skirts.

I got a programme to add to my collection of them from musicals I’ve seen over the years, because you truly can never have too much sentimentality. The theatre was absolutely full to the brim of people; excitable teenagers, groups of friends on a girls night out, parents and kids, and the buzz was enough to make anyone smile. We found our seats and waited almost anxiously for the performance to start, as if any second someone was going to yell “Psych!” and tell us it had been rescheduled again. Eventually the lights dimmed, the curtain went up, and I felt that familiar pull of excitement in my stomach that was, at the same time, alien and all too familiar to me.

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The performance itself was absolutely spellbinding. I’ve been listening to the Heathers soundtrack since I was fifteen, and practically every word of it is permanently ingrained into my mind, but that didn’t affect the performance for me in any way. From the second the show opened I was overwhelmed with excitement. I was spotting all the characters as they made their entrances, characters I had known through only their voices for so long, breathing life into their personas the way a cast recording simply can’t do. I fell in love with Veronica Sawyer all over again within five seconds of her first “dear diary” - this awkward, sharp-tongued and goofy teenager served as a reflection of myself at that age, minus the murderous tendencies, and the soft spot I had always harboured for her was alive and well. The three Heathers themselves put their own spin on their characterisation of the iconic trio of bad girls, pulling off the casual cruelty and pettiness so well it was almost charming. When Heather Duke made her transition to “resident mythic bitch” after the untimely demise of Heather Chandler, the quick change that the cast managed to do was possibly the most flawless one I’ve ever seen in my life - it’s been a week and I’m still wondering how exactly they pulled it off.

Everything about being back in the theatre was so lovely. I even enjoyed the generally less pleasant bits, like having to awkwardly shuffle past the people in the seats beside you to get out, having to ungracefully stand up and clutch your bag to let others do the awkward shuffle past you, waiting in long queues for the bathrooms at the interval, and even getting charged the extortionate price of €3 for a single bottle of water. It was one of those things that I didn’t realise I missed so much until I was actually back. The pandemic reduced me to this mindset of expecting the absolute bare minimum when it came to enjoying life, and while it was nice to be able to take pleasure in small, inconsequential things I wouldn’t have before, it was so lovely to experience something so incredibly inessential. I had a cheeky cry in Pearse station afterwards because I was so overwhelmed at how nice it was for the world to feel somewhat normal again - and I’m really glad I got to cash in on my Christmas present from two years ago.

WORDS BY GRÁINNE MAHON ART BY MEGHAN FLOOD

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Disguised Cruelties: In Defence of The Theatre Kid It is a truth universally acknowledged that teenagers and children are mean. If you, like me, spent your school days hiding in the bathroom because your excessive side fringe and bad hair dye attracted absolutely no friends, you understand this to the extreme.

While the days of secondary school bullies are far behind me, I still feel the same sense of dread and shame every time I open social media. To spend five minutes on your TikTok homepage is to stumble across a video mocking someone who has been deemed a ‘band kid’ or ‘theatre kid’. In the comment section underneath, you will find more people agreeing with how weird these kids are in their own schools, sharing stories of things they do or say, and in some cases, “former” theatre kids apologising for at one time fulfilling that social niche.

The term theatre kid rose to popularity in the early 2010s, gaining traction through Tumblr users in fandom circles identifying and applying the appellation. Seeing their interests represented in a wide network of similar individuals was an enthusiastic shift from having few in-person friends with a similar array of fascinations. Googling the term brings up starter packs containing pride flags, tattoo chokers, some sort of show tunes screenshotted from Spotify, and the unmistakable profile of Kurt Hummel.

The shift in negative attitudes came about around the mid-2010s and has grown progressively since the inception of TikTok ‘cringe’ culture. A TikTok video of teenagers performing in a diner after their final show has amassed 695,000 views on the app, prompting comments stating they want to cyberbully them, that bullies in their school need to work harder, and with certain commenters making the comparison of death being preferable to witnessing the performance in person. The anonymity granted by the internet feeds into the lack of empathy needed to make such judgements, and although it is unlikely the people behind the screen carry this animosity into their everyday lives, the provision of such spaces allows the hostility towards these youngsters to grow and be normalised.

But what is it about these young people that draw so much negative attention? Theatre kids are everything a teenager should be — loud, overconfident, self-important, and excited about what they love. So, what establishes them as a focal point of teasing? It is quite simple: theatre is a space primarily composed of women, younger queer kids and neurodivergent folks. In recent years, there has been a broader discussion online that is challenging the way women are mocked for enjoying literally anything, from how they take their coffee to who they watch on Twitch.

While this issue has yet to be properly addressed, the focus has extended to include other vulnerable groups that make for easy targets. The queer kids within theatre are not considered part of the ‘palatable’ queer crowd to large factions of society — being that these teenagers are proud of their identities and make no effort to conceal it. Ideas of toxic masculinity are very entwined with why LGBTQ+ theatre kids are mocked; there is a performance of both masculinity and femininity on stage. Gender as a free-flowing artifice is an uncomfortable concept to many teenagers in puberty who are coming to terms with their own gender identities, and by observing these insecurities played out openly, it can become an area of contempt. It has also manifested particularly prominently in the mocking of neurodivergent mannerisms. Theatre is loud and often conflates or challenges social norms, which is a direct correlation to neurodivergent behaviours that are criticised and ridiculed. Issues with volume regulation, stimming behaviours or being hyperactive (associated mostly with autism and ADHD) find their place naturally within the theatre, yet the possession of these acts off-stage is, unfortunately, a site of social oddity for many.

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The name ‘theatre kid’ is in itself very important — it has a double function of both cutting into their peers’ self-esteem while simultaneously providing the user with a veil of unaccountability. It doesn’t poke at any individual identities, instead of transforming these musical teenagers into a congruent monolith. This allows people, both online and offline, to express their negative opinions on this subgroup without acknowledging the primary issue at hand — the fact that their contempt has its roots in misogyny, homophobia and ableism. Of course, it is unfair to place everyone who has criticised a theatre kid with such accusations.

It is an issue more with our internal and inherent bias. The culture of hating theatre kids that has mostly been fostered online has occurred because theatre kids ultimately make these users uncomfortable. I would argue that this is because theatre kids undermine and restructure the power balance of teenage hierarchy. It moves otherwise ostracized kids from the bottom of the social food chain, displacing social order and centring marginalized identities. The distinct categorisation that these kids undermine is uncomfortable and confusing when the ladder of popularity is so distinctly defined. For instance, in the monumental 2005 Disney Channel Original, High School Musical. Think of Troy Bolton, the shame he felt auditioning for the musical because it would disrupt his A-lister status, and the upheaval it caused when he came out publicly as a theatre kid! The blurring of lines and expectations from what a theatre kid is caused total disruption for East High, because Bolton becomes involved in the reordering of cliques and identities.

Importantly, theatre provides a space for these otherwise outcast and ostracised kids to fit in and express themselves. It is a safe place for kids to explore their identities and grow as individuals with all their weirdness. Otherwise introverted children are encouraged to participate through background acts such as set design, directing, stage management or lighting (among many other things) which provides them with independence and agency that is otherwise overlooked by their more vocal compeers. This applies to autistic individuals who may struggle to connect with other kids by exploring their special interests without the scathing judgement of neurotypicals. Congruently, for teens with ADHD, the theatre provides an outlet for the energy they are otherwise punished for, or in the realm of attention deficit, as it appears more commonly in women, is a supporting factor through the demand it places on cast interaction.

It accommodates and bolsters the needs of neurodivergent teens outside of the social framework that seeks to shame them. Queer kids can express themselves in whichever vibrant and lively way they cannot in regular life, donning various identities and gender roles. Theatre has always been inherently queer — think of men playing women’s parts in Shakespeare. The over-the-top expression expected in musicals and performances is a crucial milestone for LGBTQ+ teenagers to accept their identities and grow confidence. Tangentially, it is undeniable that the majority of theatre kid friend groups are composed of those who identify as female. Many school extracurriculars prioritize sports and other male-centric activities, with the example of my secondary school basketball teams coming to mind. The men’s team was constantly valued above their female counterparts, despite performing equally well in their respective games, thus undervaluing their achievements. Therefore, having a space such as theatre that so radically pivots (usually underrepresented) women’s voices gives young girls the opportunity to be listened to, to be creative, and to be seen as more than just tokens to reach a gender quota.

These ideas stem from my own experiences of doing drama in school. As a teenager who was often spoken over and disregarded by my classmates because of my quite obvious (to everyone else except me apparently) queerness and ‘eccentric’ passions, the theatre was a platform for me to be listened to. I have always been cast as ‘bossy’, which in reality meant I wanted to be listened to and taken seriously. Theatre was the perfect locus for this — I have never felt judged by my performing coparts for being too loud or strange. It has always welcomed me and the other ‘outcasts’ with open arms — and most importantly, gave us a space to be heard and valued. Theatre fostered a sense of community and belonging for me that wasn’t available anywhere else offline, and for that, I will always defend theatre kids. Even those who perform Hamiliton in a diner.

WORDS BY LEAH DOWNEY 39

TV

Succession and Why it Resonates Beyond The One Percent

Succession is essentially a show about an extremely wealthy family, the Roys. The family company, Waystar Royco, is a gargantuan international media conglomerate. During much of the show, we follow this family as they swan around on private planes and yachts, do very morally questionable things, and blame others when the consequences of their actions come to the fore. What then, if anything, makes people resonate with the show’s characters and draws us into their lifestyle? It is true that part of the show’s appeal lies in its voyeuristic elements. As an audience, we’re able to get a glimpse of what life could be like for a wealthy billionaire family that is otherwise unavailable elsewhere. Those involved in the creation of the show have done an excellent job in making everything in Succession look and feel ludicrously expensive, from the mansions and holiday homes they reside in to their suits and crockery. After the past 18 or so months, Succession has been a welcome watch for many looking for an easy respite from the mundanity of lockdowns and isolation.

Notwithstanding this, the main reason why Succession resonates with people is that the characters, although despicable in many ways, are actually fairly relatable on a human-level.

The Roy children all find themselves victims of a highly dysfunctional family scene. Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong), the most obvious successor to patriarch of the family, Logan, struggles with addiction issues and anxiety brought on in part by the ruthlessness of his father. Shiv Roy (Sarah Snook) is similarly unhappy as she finds herself desperately trying to please Logan only to face repeated humiliation. Although unprincipled and reactionary, Shiv is often the most pragmatic and considered out of her siblings, yet is often undermined by fellow family members through references, both subliminal and literal, to her status as a woman. Roman Roy (Kieran Culkin) is addled with an inferiority complex brought on by his position as someone who wields immense power despite being extremely incompetent. Even if we don’t necessarily sympathise with the Roys, we at least understand them.

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Perhaps even more interesting are the characters of Greg Hirsch (Nicholas Braun) and Tom Wambsgans (Matthew Macfayden). Both are related to the Roys, but are not necessarily considered part of the family; Tom is Shiv’s husband, Greg a distant cousin. This is hilariously outlined in an episode of season two when the Waystar Royco head office is locked down after a gunshot is heard. The two find themselves escorted to a different panic room than the rest of the family, much to the ire of Tom, who is more concerned about this than the fact that his life could be in danger. The perpetual nervousness of Tom about his position and status within the family is the driving force behind his anger and depraved moments. After throwing numerous water bottles at his ‘executive assistant’ in the panic room in frustration, he admits ‘I don’t always like who I am, Greg’.

Greg is probably the most relatable character of the series. He starts off as an unassuming kid looking for a leg up in the world and quickly finds himself embroiled in all the tumult scandal of the Roy family business, learning to use his outward naivety to aid his ambition and selfpreservation. His relationship with Tom is not solely abusive, they demonstrate genuine affection in sadistic yet self-aware moments where they recognise how morally decrepit their positions lend themself to be. After Greg blackmails Tom with some secret nefarious information he holds about Waystar Royco in order to move up in the organisation, Tom can’t hide his elation, seeing it as a coming of age moment for Greg; ‘look at you, Greg, you fucking slimeball!’. The show’s characters feature as a sort of extension of ourselves, at our worst and most selfish. This is in part why the ‘slimeball’ moments of the show are so funny; there are inklings of dark humour in these incidents. They show how self-serving humans can be.

WORDS BY FINN VIJAYAKAR

Succession was created by Jesse Armstrong, the co-creator of British comedies Peep Show and Fresh Meat. In an interview with Josh Glaney of The Times, Armstrong gave his insight into the characters of the show. “I don’t even think they’re that bad. I don’t think they’re a different order of corrupt than you or I.” While Succession operates on a higher plane than something like Peep Show, there are some notable parallels between the two. The protagonists of Peep Show, Mark and Jeremy, are highly selfish individuals, and their inward struggles to do the right thing often prove to be the funniest moments of the series. However, as Mark and Jeremy lead fairly ineffectual lives, their own self-corruption doesn’t result in many disastrous consequences. In Succession, the characters are similarly self-serving yet they exist in positions that hold immense power over the world, thus their selfishness has far-reaching consequences. Aside from being funny, this aspect of Succession also acts as a critique of the snakes and ladders of corporate careerism. Succession’s cynicism is what makes it resonate with people, and with skill it subtly portrays how humankind’s innate desire for self-preservation can be replicated in a high-stakes business environment with terrible and terribly funny results. When we laugh at Tom’s delight at Greg’s newfound slimeball-ery, we’re also laughing at ourselves and the world in which we inhabit.

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Union Representation on TV Think you’ve heard the word ‘union’ used more than ever recently? You’re probably right. Less than two months after the WHO declared COVID-19 a pandemic, essential workers across Amazon, FedEx, Instacart, Target, Walmart, and Whole Foods collaborated on a strike for increased safety measures to protect employees, as well as a more fair division of increased profits that had arisen as a result of the pandemic. In October, a federation of unions from 150 countries launched an international campaign to secure better protections for essential workers. This surge in collective action has continued into 2021 and shows no signs of slowing down. Long has the lone activist been a staple of the small screen (a topic for another time), but group organising is finally being shown on mainstream television to its full potential. By comparing shows such as Mythic Quest, Succession and Superstore, we start to see the successes and failures of representing unions on the small screen.

Of the three shows I will discuss in this article, Superstore spends the most time discussing unions. The attempts of the Cloud 9 employees to unionise their workplace is a major season five storyline. At the end of the previous season, an increased interest in unionising in the store led to management initiating background checks and calling ICE on its employees, the latter of which resulted in the incarceration of Mateo (Nico Santos). Tate’s Bake Shop, a New York business known for its cookies, allegedly threatened its workers with this very method of union busting as recently as March of this year, showing how accurate Superstore’s depiction of the realities of blue-collar work can be. When representatives of the fictional Cloud 9 union finally make it to the table with management, they get everything they asked for - until it is revealed that the store is being bought out, and the contract they agreed upon was never going to be honoured. Though this is largely the end of the storyline, it’s still notable for the time it spends on the store, and for the writers understanding that workers won’t immediately band together in perfect harmony without disregarding the need for cooperation. Even once the storyline is finished, workers’ concerns do not go unaddressed within the show. Zephra, the company that takes over the store, largely focuses on tech, and the Cloud 9 employees have to reckon with unhelpful ‘advancements’ like an employee and a CEO who prioritizes employee cereal bars over maternity leave.

In Succession we get the opposite perspective, that of the top executives in a company. Unions are not a major part of the show’s storyline, but when they do feature, their presence is felt. When Waystar Royco, the massive media conglomerate that is the show’s focus, acquires Vaulter, a digital publishing start-up, the top brass are dismayed to hear that workers want to unionise. The Roys only see this as a flaw in their newly-acquired asset, and Kendall takes them on successfully. He encourages the workers to “put off ” unionising, ostensibly so he can protect their jobs, but in actuality so he can sell the company for parts and fire them without compensation. His framing of Waystar as a “family” is a common tactic used by managers that want to prevent workers from “being difficult” by asking for what they’re owed. That the Roys are against unions is arguably more important to see than the workers desire for them in Superstore; highlighting that even in their infancy, unions are considered a thorn in the side of corporate bigwigs.

Roman (Kieran Culkin) lists “pay transparency [and] bargaining rights” as the objectives of organizers at Vaulter, and these are enough to have the company shut down. When Kendall (Jeremy Strong) tells the head of Vaulter that his staff need to “cool it on unionising”, the camera rests inside the building they stand outside, preventing the viewer from forgetting them though none of them are named characters.

In a series so focused on terrible people, it’s an effective way of encouraging the viewer to remember the people whose lives the Roys toy with every day.

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Mythic Quest similarly deals with the higher ups in a company, despite playing out more like Superstore than Succession, a half-hour workplace sitcom instead of an hour-long dramedy. The coders, who we spend very little time with, reveal their decision to unionise in the season one finale. They have spent months discussing this decision offscreen, and the next scene we see furthering this storyline is the executive producer and his assistant sitting down with a representative of the coders, the one named recurring character from this division in the show. This scene is undeniably funny (anti-union assistant Jo (Jessie Ennis) proclaiming that “the workers are grist for the mill” is gold), but when the coder’s representative actually voices the union’s demand, we see a gap between these and the previous fictional unions. There is little acknowledgment of the coders as a group, and even less acknowledgements of their various needs. They want better pay, end of list. Apparently all of the workers have discussed crunch, a form of unpaid overtime common and frequently criticised in the industry, and decided, “That’s what it takes to make the game great. We don’t wanna work less, we just wanna get paid for what we do.” It is difficult to see how they would come to this conclusion when we are told in this same episode that they have to stay at work until 3am “in case” their boss wants them to start work on his latest idea. In reality, crunch can go on for months so companies can ship games on schedule, and can take a tremendous toll on workers. Picking apart the decisions made in a sitcom might seem uncharitable, and it would be ludicrous to ask that Mythic Quest act as some kind of morality play, but when this episode is read in connection with the season’s third episode, where the solution to Nazis playing the game is not to kick them from it, but to simply lump them all together so they won’t impact other players (and the company still gets their money), one starts to feel uncomfortable.

It feels important to note that of the three shows discussed here, Mythic Quest in particular was criticised by cast and crew members for not adhering to COVID-19 safety standards while filming their second season. The show also receives both advice and funding from Ubisoft, a video-game company that was only recently sued by its employees for a pervasive culture of sexual harassment. While I’m excited to know that both workplace sitcoms and prestige programming have been proven as suitable modes to tell stories about labour organising, it’s unsurprising that such stories suffer when managed by the people who necessitate that organising.

WORDS BY GILLIAN DOYLE ART BY EVE SMITH

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PLACES

Childhood Nostalgia: My Grandparents’ House The simplicity of childhood is one of the most wonderful things in this world. When I look back on my younger years, it seems almost impossible that I had so little worry and my main concern was having fun. “Having fun” as a child didn’t have to consist of anything major - instead it was the little things; a walk in the park, crunching leaves, splashing in puddles, seeing who could swing higher on the swing, or who could run faster. It was all very ordinary, but life was filled with peace yet excitement. It fills me with nostalgia when I think about it for too long and realise I cannot return. However, I’m lucky to still have one of my favourite childhood places which allows me to bask in those sweet memories of childhood; my grandparents’ house.

As an outsider, my grandparents’ house is just another countryside bungalow. Much like childhood, it is all very ordinary, however it’s the memories that were made there which make it so special. The feeling I get when I visit my grandparents’ house is one of complete safety, like nothing bad could ever happen to me when I’m there.

My grandparents create such a homely atmosphere, I wouldn’t even have my foot in the door and they would already be offering me whatever biscuits they bought in this week’s shopping, with the kettle whirring in the background ready for a pot of tea. Being in the heart of rural Ireland, the house is naturally quiet with very little going on around it. It’s a peaceful place filled with laughter, chatter and love. It’s an old house, where my Mom and her siblings grew up. This house means something different to each family member, to me it means safety, nostalgia, love and warmth.

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My grandad is the very definition of a man with green fingers. His garden is his pride and joy. There is an apple tree in the garden which was the ultimate climbing frame as a child. We would have competitions to see who could climb highest and quickest. This act was ruining our poor grandad Joe’s apple tree that he put so much work and effort into, however he never once said a bad word to us once we helped him gather up all the apples we had knocked down in our adventures so they wouldn’t rot. Granny would then make an apple tart out of them. I remember feeling like I was on top of the world when I climbed that apple tree, even though it was only a couple of metres tall. Childhood imagination made it feel like I was climbing the tallest tree in an exotic jungle.

These fond memories of sunny days playing tip the can with my cousins around our grandparents’ garden are ones that I didn’t realise I would remember forever. Often in childhood you’re making memories without realising they’re shaping you into the person you’ll grow up to be. I know the lessons of trust, patience, love, and care which I became familiar with at my grandparents’ house are some of the strongest values I have today.

Those days at that old, quiet house helped me grow to this day. The best thing about it is that I’ll always have the memories.

WORDS BY EADAOIN FAGAN ART BY LINDE VERGEYLEN & MEGHAN FLOOD

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I Planned Your Bermuda Trip So You Don’t Have To! Bermuda, an archipelago of seven islands located in the Sargasso Sea; in other words, a tropical heaven with lush greenery spiralling the island and crystal clear waters. Infamously known for its mysterious triangle, Bermuda has also gained a reputation for being a capital of shipwrecks, but there is way more to this island than its mysterious essence.

This destination should be on every wanderluster’s bucket list. It is not only beautiful but also easily accessible from both sides of the Atlantic. I will preface this by saying, it is definitely not a trip to take on a budget, or a gateway to a capital city in Europe for a weekend with cheap Ryanair flights. However, it is more doable than one might imagine.

Logistics First of all, there are plenty of flights to Bermuda from London. The flight is about six hours and is much shorter than going to one of the Caribbean islands. If you’re already on the east coast of the US, it’s a two hour flight. Yes, that is 600 euro, but you are flying six hours, and when compared to return flights from Dublin to London on a busy weekend which would cost about 300 euro, this puts the price of a flight to Bermuda in perspective.

The other essential cost is the accommodation. Your best bet on a budget is an Airbnb, there are a few that offer a relatively affordable price at 100-150 euro per night, and assuming that you won’t be travelling alone this price is halved.

The bus system in Bermuda is surprisingly easy to navigate and efficient. A four day pass is 48.50 dollars and a 7 day pass is 62 dollars. These passes allow you to use all 13 bus routes (Bermuda is small, so that is plenty) which will bring you to all the must-see spots on the island.

The food is by far the most expensive bit of the holiday; due to the questionable tax laws on the island and the inevitable expense of importing all goods, food becomes quite expensive. Even in supermarkets the prices are at least double of the prices in the US. I would recommend going to local places such as Art Mel’s Spicy Dicy which does a fish sandwich for 12 dollars and it is divine.

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Why You Need To Visit Now that we have all the logistics out of the way, here are some reasons why you should spend extra on this holiday because you won’t regret visiting this place. First of all, the people are wonderful! They are some of the friendliest and kindest people I have ever met. They will strike up conversations with you if you are in a taxi, shop, bar etc. and they are extremely helpful. They know all the great food spots, beaches and where to see the sea turtles if you are lucky.

Apart from the wonderful people, the whole country is so gorgeous, it will honestly bring you to tears. Yes, it is very hot and humid, which is why I would recommend going during the off season when it is just a tad cooler. Despite the humid heat, it is a paradise. Not only are there bananas, hibiscus and massive monsteras growing everywhere but the ocean is a must-see.

The crystal blue waters are postcard worthy. They are the clearest waters I have ever seen thanks to the thriving coral border that surrounds the island. Unlike the massive coral bleaching that is happening across other popular destinations like Hawaii and the Caribbean, Bermuda managed to see their coral population thrive. The corals are a must-see, they are located everywhere around the whole island which is why there are so many shipwrecks on the island and certainly the reason why Bermuda has gotten its ‘mysterious’ reputation. Snorkelling expeditions are ongoing on a daily basis so if you are going to visit Bermuda there is no excuse not to see one of the healthiest corals in the world along with 300 shipwrecks that are scattered near the coral borders.

Top Ten Must See Spots on the Island: 1.Snorkelling at Cambridge Beaches (this is where you can spot sea turtles) 2.Visit the Blue Hole Park (aka Tom Moore’s Jungle) 3.Visit the Crystal Caves 4.Swim and sunbathe on the Pink Beach 5.Visit Heritage Museum 6.Walk the old Railway Tracks 7.Explore the Naval Dockyards 8.Visit Bermuda Aquarium, Museum and Zoo 9. Explore St. George’s Town and its rich history 10. Have a Rum Swizzle and a Dark and Stormy

WORDS & PHOTOS BY GABRIELA GRZYWACZ 47

GAEILGE

An Fhadhb atá Agam le ‘Scéimh Ghlan’ Tá borradh mór faoi scéimh ghlan i láthair na huaire, an fhadhb a bhaineann leis an téarma seo ná nach bhfuil sainmhíniú soléir uirthi. Tá réimse leathan bríonna uirthi, dar le daoine áirithe is éard is brí léi ná táthchodanna gan cheimiceáin ach i dtuairimí daoine eile táthchodanna inbunaithe is brí léi. Cloistear fud fad na cruinne go bhfuil na táthchodanna inár gcúram craicinn ‘dáinséarach’, ‘nimhiúil’, agus ‘carcanaigineach’ ach an bhfuil aon fhírinne leis an scéal sin?

Gealltar dúinn nach dtiocfaidh aois orainn leis na táthchodanna glana seo, nach gcuirfidh siad isteach ar ár gcraiceann, nach mbuailfidh ailse muid. Cén fáth go bhfuil an méid sin cumhacht ag an bhfocal ‘glan’ orainn? Caithim go leor ama ag éisteacht agus ag léamh faoi thuairimí deirmeolaithe ar an ábhar agus déanann an deirmeolaí Shereene Idriss cur síos iontach ar an ábhar. Rinne sí cur síos air ag míniú nach bhfuil aon chumacht san fhrása ‘gan cheimiceáin.’ Is ceimiceán é gach rud, ón aer a análaimid chuig an uisce a ólaimid. Ní hé an ceimiceán atá dáinséarach, is í an dáileog a dhéanann dáinséarach é.

Cé go bhfuil sé fadhbach scéimh ghlan a bhrú, ní he sin le rá go bhfuil na táthchodanna seo dona. Níl aon fhadhb ag baint leo, is í an fhadhb ná an eagla a thimpeallaíonn iad. Níl aon fhadhb leis an táirge í féin ach is fadhb mhór í nuair atá eagla ar dhaoine roimh tháirgí le ‘ceimiceáin’ agus roimh rudaí nach bhfuil ‘nádurtha’ agus ‘glan’. Níl fáil ar dhaoine ar eolas ceart agus tá an mhífhaisnéis ag cur le eagla daoine. Níl gach rud atá nádúrtha sábháilte, tóg arsanaic mar shampla, tagann arsanaic ón nádúr agus is tocsain í.

Is stráitéis margaíochta é ‘glan’. Tá na comhlachtaí ag déanamh iarrachta a gcuid táirgí a dhíol agus chun é sin a dhéanamh tá siad ag cur leis an scéal gur fearr ‘glan’ ná aon rud eile. Tá aithne ag gach duine ar Goop de chuid Gwyneth Paltrow, atá cáiliúil toisc a cuid táirgí ‘glana’. Tháinig Paltrow i dtrioblóid arís le déanaí nuair a dúirt sí go mbaineann sí úsáid as uachtar gréine ‘mar aibhsiú’ amháin. Leanann go leor daoine Paltrow agus ní haon rún é go leanann sí an ghluaiseacht ‘ghlan’, mar sin níl sí anois díreach ag dhíol a cuid táirgí, tá sí anois ag buanú mífháisnéise.

Tá clú agus cáil ar éifeachtaí maithe reatanóil. Is ceimiceán é reatanól a oibríonn chun na cealla craicinn a spreagadh chomh maith le collaigin a spreagadh. Le húsaid fadtéarmach is féidir le reatanól cuma na roc a laghdú. Is é reatanól an táthchuid gníomach i dtáirgí frithroctha. Tá go leor leor páipéirí eolaíochta ann chun é seo a léiriú. Anois leis an ngluaiseacht ghlan, tá cáil ar an táthchuid nádúrtha bakuchiol. Cloiseann daoine go bhfuil sé nádúrtha agus go tobann creideann siad go bhfuil sé níos fearr agus níos sábháilte ná reatanól. Deirtear go ndéanann bakuchiol an rud céanna le reatanól leis na torthaí céanna chomh maith ach níl an fhianaise ann chun fírinne a chur leis an ráiteas sin. Níl an fhianaise eolaíochta againn ar bakuchiol go fóill.

Arís, níl aon fhadhb le táirgí glana, mar chuid mhaith den am níl siad ach ag rá go bhfuil an pacáistiú inbhunaithe nó go bhfuil an táirge veigeán. Ach, caithfear deireadh a chur leis an insint gur fearr glan ná aon rud eile agus go bhfuil aon rud nach bhfuil ‘glan’ dainséarach.

FOCAIL LE YU HUA CHAOMHÁNACH TARRAINGEOIREACHT LE EMILY STEVENSON 48

Níl aithne ag Netflix orm An bhfuil éinne eile ar aon tuairim liom nach bhfuil Netflix i mbarr na réime le déanaí? Ní léirím suim in aon de na sraitheanna a mholann sé dom a thuilleadh. Faoi láthair bíonn sé níos deacra agus níos deacra orm éirigh níos faide ná an réamhbhlaiseadh, gan aird a thabhairt fiú ar an gcéad eipeasóid. Ta cuma beagáinín leadránach ar gach rud, amhail is go bhfuil siad ar fad feicthe agam cheana.

Is dócha nach bhfuil ionadh orm. Tar éis trí dianghlasáil tá go leor Netflix feicthe agam, agus sin gan aird a thabhairt ar Amazon Prime agus na meáin sruthaithe eile atá mé tar éis triail a bhaint astu. Deirtear nach bhfuil ann ach cúpla snáithe scéil a bhí bunaithe ag na Sean-Ghréigigh agus ó shin ar aghaidh tá gach rud nach mór mar an gcéanna: buaileann buachaill le cailín, cailleann an buachaill an cailín, éiríonn leis an mbuachaill an cailín a fháil ar ais. An saghas rud sin. Ní haon ionadh go bhfuil an blas céanna ar gach rud. É sin ráite, rith se liom nach bhfuil an locht ar na daoine a chruthaíonn na scannáin seo ach ar intleacht shaorga Netflix.

Níl ach taobh amháin de feicthe againn - an taobh a bhaillíonn eolas faoi na sraitheanna agus na scannáin atá feicthe againn agus cathain a bhreathnaíomar orthu. Ansin baineann Netflix úsáid as an eolas seo ar fad chun sraitheanna agus scannáin a mholadh dúinn.

Ach níl sé sin ach taobh amháin den scéal. Baineann Netflix úsáid freisin as an eolas seo ar fad óna 209 milliún rannpháirtithe domhanda chun cinneadh a dhéanamh cén sraitheanna agus scannáin le ceannach nó le coimisiúnú. An fhadhb ná nach féidir gach duine a shásamh.

Tóg mar shampla ‘Chesapeake Shores’, an tsraith taithneamhach ar Netflix. Leanann an tsraith na siblíní O’Brien agus iad ag tabhairt aghaidhe ar anbhroidí an tsaoil in Maryland. Tá fadhbanna acu ach bíonn gach rud ceart go leor faoi dheireadh na sraithe. Agus tarlaíonn sé seo an t-am ar fad. Sin an fhadhb, éiríonn sé leadránach go n-oibríonn gach rud amach ar nós finscéal de shaghas éigin.

Tá ‘Chesapeake Shores’ cosúil leis an dá shraith cháiliúil ‘Gilmore Girls’ agus ‘Virgin River’. Tá an dá shraith seo sa chatagóir chéanna le ‘Chesapeake Shores’, tá siad éasca le breathnú orthu agus taithneamhach. An difríocht ná nach raibh saol foirfe ag na daoine sna sraitheanna seo. Cinnte, bhí saol idéalaíoch acu, ach tharla cúpla rud dona i measc na rudaí maithe ar fad. Bhí siad inchreidte mar scéalta, nó chomh inchreidte is gur féidir leo a bheith!

Caithfear ceist a chur an bhfuair algartam Netflix mícheart é. An rud a mheall ‘Gilmore Girls’ agus ‘Virgin River’ mé ná na rudaí a chuaigh bun os cionn ina saolta, chomh maith leis na rudaí iontacha. Ar ghlac Netlix leis nach maith liom ach finscéalta, agus an cinneadh a dhéanamh go raibh ‘Chesapeake Shores’ - lena chomharbas gan taise de chríocha foirfe do gach saghas dursan - an rud a bhí uaim? Más rud é go bhfuil sé sin an cás, tá sé mícheart acu d’éirigh mé as i ndiaidh an chéad shéasúir!

Cuireann sé ceist níos mó chun cinn. Más rud é nach bhfuil intleacht shaorga Netflix ábalta na sraitheanna is fearr liom a thaispeáint dom agus na cinn nach maith liom a choimeád as mo scáileán, fiú leis an eolas ar fad atá acu ar mo nósanna thar na bliana, conas go bhféadfaí le hintleacht shaorga saolú ar na rudaí ar fad a gealladh dúinn?

Creideann ‘Silicon Valley’ go bhfuil intleacht shaorga an chéad oirear eile. D’fhógair Mark Zuckerberg le déanaí go mbeadh Facebook ag casadh i dtreo rud éigin darb ainm ‘Metaverse’ - nuair a bhaintear úsáid as an idirlíon trí uirlisí réaltachta fíorúla agus go leor leor intleacht shaorga. Creidfidh mé é nuair fheicim é.

FOCAIL LE NINA NIC MHÁNAIS AGUS YU HUA CHAOMHÁNACH 49

ALT.

An Ode to Pre-Owned Books I’ve never completely understood my obsession with second hand books. There were the obvious appeals of course, of being able to build a personal library on a budget, or of finding a copy of cover art that has long since gone out of print. However, they do not alone account for the attachment I have for opening up a broken-spined book and running my hand over the preloved pages. With Dublin’s beloved Chapters set to close in early 2022, it’s only fitting that I write my ode to second hand books and the stores that foster them.

Being a true empath, I tend to take the term ‘adopt not shop’ into everyday life: thrifting clothes, repairing instead of replacing, clothes and book swaps. This is perhaps where my fascination with preloved books comes from. In charity shops and second-hand book shops, there are shelves lined with broken spines and dog-eared pages. Although not as aesthetically pleasing as brand-new covers, books that have been broken in over multiple readings have a specific energy from being loved before.

There is a simplicity in viewing a book as just a didactic object, but they are often so much more.

The same book can be something different to all of its past owners. It could have been their way of passing the morning commute, or the story which made them love to read again, or the book that relit that childhood feeling of staying up late because they are unwilling to put the title down. It may have been the book that hit a little too close to home, or the favourite book of an old lover, which conjured up fond memories when spotted on the crowded shelves. The book that you smooth the cover of in Chapters or St. Vincent de Paul has already lived many lives with many different people.

It is romantic to think that in taking it home, stacking it among our shelves and reading it when we feel it’s needed, we are playing our role in that book’s lifecycle. You could almost say we are a chapter in that book’s story - but that might be a little too on the nose.

WORDS BY EMMA LUEDERS ART BY EMILY STEVENSON

Once I’ve finished with a book, I always like to put my name and the year inside the cover in pencil and return it to some sort of second-hand shop so that the cycle can continue. I like to imagine that among the copies of 90s romance novels and out-of-print cookbooks, the book that I have just returned will grab the interest of its next temporary owner. I’m charmed by the idea that the title will continue to be passed through the different hands that felt attracted to its contents, and take what they need from its venerable pages. It’s a completely idealised romantic idea, but being a child that grew up on Toy Story and teddy bear rotations so that none would feel left out, it’s one that always brings me joy when I open up a preloved book to begin my small role in its life.

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Nothing feels better than stepping off the plane to your holiday spot and finding the heat just hits you, right? How about a freezing cold walk? Stay with me. It’s November, not February, the cold is still fun.

And you’re not really even cold, it’s just your nose. Every other inch of your body is wrapped up in layers of woollen clothes topped off with your staple puffer coat. On this crisp morning, you just had an extra hour in bed because the clocks went back. And, in your refreshed state, you chose to go on a walk to look at the pretty colours on the trees, jump on the fallen leaves, and buy your first overpriced seasonal hot drink of the year. It’s Autumn: it is cold, wet and dark. Work, responsibilities and college are all up and running again. The hype of freshers has died down, the farmer’s tan has faded and soon it will actually be time to start studying and cramming essays into the night. This beautifully underrated time of year is slower. The buzz of summer is behind us and the ‘New Year New Me’ resolutions are far off in the distance. This break from comparison is exactly what we need after the pressure of summer to be as perfect as the fifteen second summer montages on TikTok. Instead, it is a season with no expectations for anything to be ‘the best’ or ‘perfect.’ It is a time of traditions and routines. A time to start the annual debate of when it is acceptable to start celebrating Christmas, as you watch your eager neighbours try to outdo each other’s decorations on November first. A mere waiting period until a Christmas full of movie marathons, cosy nights in and Penney’s fluffy pyjamas. Now, grab your hot water bottle and watch all the Christmas episodes of your favourite TV shows while you wait for the real thing.

WORDS BY AOIFE BENNETT ART BY LINDE VERGEYLEN

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Perspectives on Emigration

In 2015, the OECD estimated 17.5% of those over the age of 15 born in Ireland were living abroad. As a nation, emigration has been a central part of our story for at least the last 200 years. The context in which people have left has changed over time. However, many reasons why they chose to leave share similarities, and it is crucial we continue to acknowledge the legacy of Irish emigration home and abroad.

In the past, those who left tended to be so-called low-skilled workers, whose opportunities were sparse at home but had the know-how and drive to prove themselves if given the opportunity. While there are exceptions, those who leave today tend to have far higher levels of formal education.

They leave due to far better opportunities abroad, with this particularly true for nurses, doctors and teachers. In many ways, Ireland is a rich country that has not quite realised how to act like one. The problems we face today, particularly the cost of housing and our healthcare system, alongside the unreliability of our public services, tend to be issues confronted by richer countries, whose more gradual economic development gave them more time to adapt to than Ireland. A period abroad can often illuminate the stark deficiencies at home in a way that makes it difficult to look at home the same way ever again and leaves us asking, like those who came before us, ‘why stay?’.

The experiences of those who have chosen to leave in the past and present are both complicated and varied. To many, their new home was a Renaissance, but to many others it was jarring, daunting and an incredibly lonely experience. In time, they and their descendants were also forced to confront the question of where is home and where do I belong?

While it’s easy to find examples of the offspring of Irish emigrants, seemingly particularly Irish Americans, presenting a caractured picture of the nation, it is important to remember a number of things. The first is that many of these stories are in essence legends. Passed from one generation to the next, they are the stories and legacies of many a reluctant emigrant’s memories of home. The second is for every loud-mouthed tourist having a pint in Temple Bar and telling you how their grandpappy grew up in Galway (Gala-way) or Sligo (Slee-go) in a thatched cottage with leprechauns and fairies, there are more who have a nuanced, holistic sense of Irish history and who try to engage with Irish culture. In particular, the Gaelic Games have proven popular abroad, but there are also impressive networks of Gaelgóirí, as well as trad music scenes and Céilí groups, alongside an appreciation for our authors, actors, and artists. This romanticism and enthusiasm even after several generations contrasts hugely with the negativity and contempt shown by many people here who would frequently label their hometown a ‘kip’.

I feel a lot of the negative attitudes towards second generation Irish can originate from a deep sense of shame and disappointment at an individual, but also a collective level. Unlike other nations, the Free State and early Republic had no golden age. For most of the state’s history we were desperately poor in a way impossible for a modern audience to truly grasp, with these conditions reflected in Irish folk songs typically being melancholic laments. With each relative who left, the sense of shame and disappointment that the transition to independence did not lead to prosperity and opportunity cut deeper. Alongside this, the failure of the Free State to prosper reinforced a collective lack of self confidence, a sense of inadequacy and a coarse cynicism. It also meant that those who came home, particularly those who grew up in America, could seriously clash with relatives, as their sense of optimism and self-assurance contrasted jarringly with the sense of destitution commonplace in Ireland.

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In the modern day, this bitterness seems increasingly targeted at home rather than abroad. In the past we were poor and did what we could. Today we are rich but to many it feels we may as well be poor as they feel little sense of wealth and instead are beset by the familiar feelings of shame and anger. And so we are back where we began. What do we do when we aren’t happy at home? We leave. In the same sense I wouldn’t begrudge anyone who left today, and consider doing so myself, we should not retroactively scorn those who left, nor disown their children. Despite perpetuating many myths about modern Ireland, in each one of these stories there is an echo of the people that we used to be.

WORDS BY BEN GRAHAM

The Hunt for the Perfect Costume To quote the Oscar-worthy, culture-defining 2006 film Mean Girls, “Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girl can say anything about it.” Naturally, I heed Cady Heron’s words as gospel, as I recommend anybody should.

Furthering from this, then arises the challenge of actually committing to a costume, (or several, if you’ve decided to sacrifice your precious wages to purchase tickets into nightclubs where you definitely won’t remember spending €12.50 on a double vodka and cranberry). TikToks of potential costume ideas begin flooding your For You Page months in advance. My favourites tab is full of videos with a Thriller remix blaring in the background, captioned “Halloween 2021 costumes ideas that you’ve NEVER thought of ;)”, while Pinterest board pictures of angels, fairies, and Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction flash on the screen.

Personally, panic began to set in approximately a week before the day itself. I realised that the only costume I had to my name was a nurse’s costume I used for a murder-mystery party on New Years Eve four years ago, and a knotted blonde wig that was supposed to resemble Sandy Dee from Grease.

My time was running out, and the looming sense of doom hanging over me was worse than the 2,500 word essay I had due that same week.

Going shopping for a costume only set off more alarm bells. The atmosphere while walking through the Halloween shop in Stephen’s Green was one of tension and chaos. The only person I could truly relate to in this scenario was Katniss Everdeen. Both our fates would end in disaster— hers was death; mine, more dangerously, was the resurrection of that Sandy wig. After seeing that the options available to me consisted of costumes that took cultural appropriation to the next level, or Donald Trump masks, I realised I would have to look elsewhere.

Admittedly, when you think of Halloween costumes, Miss Fantasia’s sex shop on South William Street isn’t exactly the first place that comes to mind. But, lo and behold, this small (and kinky) corner of Dublin was my safe haven. After ringing the intercom at the door for permission to enter, my friends and I proceeded up the stairs; following close behind was an unassuming couple who were likely not looking for Halloween costumes. The sights we encountered were ones that would’ve made a 1930s Eamon DeValera cry if he knew such sexual liberation existed in his conservative Ireland. From poppers and vibrators to gimp suits, this shop supplied it all. I’d say let the tears pour – the women of Ireland were well and truly out of the kitchen, and looking for costumes.

After sifting through twenty versions of “sexy playboy bunny” and “hot waitress” costumes, I decided that yes, I would bite that originality bullet and be Miss Mia Wallace for Halloween. But, to add a unique aspect, I would make my version a slightly sluttier version, as an homage to the Mean Girls mentality.

Now, were there about twenty girls wearing black wigs, white shirts and leather pants in the Grand Social when we went out? Yes, but in the wise words of Clare from Derry Girls, “Ack Erin, I’m not being an individual on my own”.

In conclusion, I can’t wait for Christmas.

WORDS BY ELLA MCCORMACK PHOTO BY MEGAN O’ ROURKE 53

ROOT & RISING

PHOTOS BY EADAOIN FAGAN, O.T. & MEGAN O’ ROURKE

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