blottybus

A lot of thought recently on language as the medium of literature. I've never fallen for the slighly circular argument that 'literature is something ethereal, magnificant, it stands alone and above as the pinicle of human creation...', and in debates about the worth of the subject 'English' I am frustrated when people fall back to the immature argument that it 'helps us see and learn about humans'. The more objective approach, therefore, offered by medievalism has always attracted me - equally so for the linguistic study of texts.

So it is somehow ironic that i find myself draw to a specialism based in the Romantics, with all their subjective flair, emotion, naturalism and, specifically, egotistical imaginings of 'poet'. To a lot of 'that bunch', the 'poet' is a superhuman, capable of so much more than mere men, somehow linked to a spiritually superior status which allows him to glean an 'other' (or perhaps 'another') in life and living. Fuelled by the passions of my somewhat Byronic tutor at the moment (Keith, you know who) I am quickly developing an intense interest in the Romantics - so much so that I am applying for the M.A. here at Bristol with the intention of doing it in Romanticism.

My next essay, then, is on the poetical ego and poetical self-justification.

One of the problems with reading a lot of this stuff is that the writers are convinced of their own superiority.

One of the joys with reading a lot of this stuff is that the writers are convinces of their own superiority.

'What is a poet'?

becomes, for me

'What is a critic?'

Johnson aside, I would say it is someone who highlights meaning for others, and finds flaws where they are.

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My thoughts upon

The School of Humanities, University of Bristol.

Schoolification was opposed by several departments, and many key members of staff. Yet, for whatever reason, it has happened, and I think those who left before it would find it difficult to understand the large impact it has had. It is not an ethereal conceptual coming together. No, no, no.

Every departmental common room is gone. They are now permanent teaching rooms. To imagine it, think of walking past the English book room (thankfully still extant!) and, where you would have turned into the English common room, finding a wall. You go along the coridor which has been created, and find yourself in a corridor which didn't even exist until a month ago. This leads you to the 'Humanities common room', plush with sofas and shiny wooden tables, coffee machines and armchairs. Here, there is a constant mix of historians, classicists, theologians, philosophers, literary people and linguists. The school acts as a single building, with the idea of 'department' being eroded - we no longer, for example, have 'head of dept.', but instead a 'head of subject'.

I don't mean to sound negative, because this has brought money flooding in to the arts which was needed quite badly. More is to come, with coffee shops and the like expected soon. But I can't help but wonder - is the erosion of individual departmentalism a good thing? we no longer have an English office, and the lack of a focus for student's issues has been felt. Philosophy and Classics tutors now have their rooms in the English building.

I think it remains to be seen if this will work. I must admit, I AM won over. The money, the breath of fresh air, is all exciting.