Skip to main content


Well, I'm not reading The White Tiger yet, that's for sure, not enough time to investigate new novels at the moment, no, for me it's one of the classics, I'm reading Felix Holt - Radical by George Eliot - as well as plenty of non-fiction into nineteenth century factory conditions and legislation. (!) Yes, the two go hand in hand somewhat, although Eliot was in such a different league, head and shoulders above her contemporaries - contrasting sharply with Dickens' Hard Times, which Eliot criticised for lacking in psychological depth (it was Dickens who had characters like Gradgrind, whose name was supposed to say everything you needed to know about his character, he thought, what did she expect?), and Gaskell's Mary Barton, both of which represented the working-class in a terribly shallow manner, as if all members of the newly conscious working-classes were identical to each other, (with the exception of the immigrant Irish who were treated as though they were apes, i.e. not fully human, not just by a few we can safely assume were racist and ignorant, but was a widespread view throughout the country and its media), and that everything would be ok as long as they remembered the place that God had alloted them (i.e. the scrapheap) and Bosses showed their appreciation a bit more by letting their white slaves work twelve hours a day instead of sixteen or whatever it was. In terms of attitude and levels of intelligence surely the nineteenth century can, in so many ways, be seen as a regression from the eighteenth. Would the nineteenth had dared publish Defoe, Richardson or Fielding?

Popular posts from this blog

Who was Mary Burns?

On 7th January 1863 Mary Burns was found dead from a suspected heart attack. She was 43 years old. Since her death Mary has received barely any attention despite the fact that she spent over twenty years as the common-law wife of Friedrich Engels, one of the world’s most influential thinkers and the co-founder of Marxism.

Born in 1822, Mary was the oldest surviving child of textile dyer and factory operative, Michael Burns, and Mary Conroy, Irish immigrants from Tipperary. Mary’s parents had married at St. Patrick’s in an area known casually as Irish Town, one of few Catholic churches in Manchester at that time. The year of Mary’s birth and her infancy were significant in that Manchester was still dealing with the aftermath of the event that became known as the 1819 Peterloo Massacre, a peaceful protest of the working-classes on the site of St. Peter’s Fields in which several people were killed and hundreds injured. The Massacre occurred when magistrates, alarmed at the size of t…

My PhD critical paper

I thought I'd upload the critical element of my PhD thesis. Hopefully, for those who are interested enough to read it, it will make sense despite the references to my creative work, which I can't upload as I'm seeking publication. And besides, at 68,000 words...

I'm also going to tweak section one of this three section critical paper with a view to journal publication because of the academic interest in the claims I make of Mary.

-Dedicated with love and respect to Dr Bruce Lloyd-

And in memory of my parents:
Thomas Valentine and Joan Theresa
Good people who taught me so much more than they realised


The biggest thank-you is due to Norma Clarke, Professor of English Literature and Creative Writing at Kingston University, who supervised this PhD. I never had cause to doubt my initial instincts as Norma proved to be the best mentor I could ever have wished for.

I would also like to acknowledge the generous studentship that I was fortunate to be awarded by Kingston Universi…

Booker Shortlist announced

It's been a while... I know. Dog walking on the Downs, a bit of theatre, a bit of baking, a bit of writing etcetera etcetera. I also managed to read two complete books in the past month, which I was so pleased about. I had not read a whole book for about a year. The first was A Lie About My Father by Scottish poet/writer, John Burnside; a very well written memoir about father and son, but like all memoirs, some unreliability I felt. Poignant and tragic in equal measure. Then my husband returned from Cyprus (too hot for me this time of year, I can barely cope with England!) with Sebastian Faulks's Birdsong. He loved it. And then I read it and also loved it. I had originally picked it up several years ago but didn't get beyond Amiens, where the first section is set, but was really glad I did this time around. Another incredibly well written book in the style of a good Victorian! I felt a bit unsure about bits of Elizabeth, in the later section, but I have never learnt so muc…