Beer, Football, and Mr Peanut

As the last days of student life drift lazily away, and the wide world opens out, thoughts tentatively turn to life after university.  The prospect of planning the rest of my life is a little daunting; despite five years at university, I don’t feel ready or knowledgeable enough to answer that old chestnut of a question, “what are you going to do next?”.  For me, there’s going to be a lot of new experiences; a new job, a new routine, and new people in my life.  But before all that, some long-awaited post-uni travelling is definitely in order.

Ever since my fresher year at Exeter, I have always dreamed of going out and seeing some of the world.  Inspired by Michael Palin, David Attenborough, Bob Geldof and the like, I have always had a sense that there is far more to the world; different ways of life, alternative experiences, and new and exciting means of living.  Now, having come to the end of twenty years of continuous education, it is time for me to take the plunge and find these things for myself, to fill my senses up with these new experiences, and to dip into the cultural pool of planet Earth.

So I’m going to begin by taking a few weeks out to travel to some of those European places that have for so long excited me.  Grabbing my backpack and my rail tickets, I intend to stop first in Amsterdam, to wander the canals and visit the art galleries.  I will then move on to Berlin, to Europe’s forward looking capital, before taking the long journey south to the archaeology museum that is Rome, via Munich.  It’s then a short journey the fashion capital of Milan, and then on to Nice, in the south of France that was brought to life so beautifully by F. Scott Fitzgerald in Tender is the Night.  After this, and via Montpellier, Barcelona beckons, as does Madrid, these two cities being the homes of two of Europe’s most exciting football clubs.  From there it’s a short journey to Santander, from where a ferry will deliver me to Plymouth, and back home.

And what will I do after that?  I guess I’ll just have to let you know when the times comes…

The Phantom of the Opera

by Gaston Leroux

When the Paris Opera is taken over by two new managers, it sparks off a series of horrible events instigated by an opera ghost, a phantom who has for years lived peacefully in the opera house.  Tortured by love for Christine Daae, a young singer who he has brilliantly tutored, the phantom becomes increasingly jealous at her romantic affair with Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny, and sets about making Christine his own, by whatever means possible.  The phantom is indeed no ghost, but a hideously disfigured man called Erik.  A musical and theatrical genius, Erik is psychologically scarred by his childhood and, finding more comfort by living under the opera house, he creates a sanctuary for himself and his music.  Christine, on her part, thinks of Erik as the ‘angel of music’, promised to her by her father before he died.  She loves Raoul, but is drawn to the phantom through her loyalty to him and her father.  The resulting plot is a story of love, jealousy, and bitterness, brought together with a colourful cast of characters, not least the Persian and Mame Giry, who know Erik personally, whilst the bumbling behaviour of new managers Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard add a level of comedy to the novel.

Gaston Leroux does an excellent job exploring some difficult and complex issues, whilst maintaining the book as both readable and enjoyable.  His description of the phantom’s house, under the opera, is especially good, and his atmospheric style of writing really gives you a taste of wealthy Parisian life in the nineteenth century.  The novel tackles the themes of love and hate well, but for me the most important issue is that of a musical genius, a brilliant character who could have been so much, made to feel isolated, and forced to hide away from the world because of the way he looks.  This is the saddest aspect of the novel, and the part that leaves the reader with much to think over.

Set in the midst of the ‘roaring twenties’, Fitzgerald’s celebrated masterpiece traces the rise, fall, and hedonistic lifestyle of Jay Gatsby, as seen through the eyes of his neighbour, Nick Carraway.  Located primarily within the fictional villages of East and West Egg, Long Island, New York, we are invited into a world of lavish parties, expensive cars, and well-to-do families, the likes of which have characterised the booming decade which followed World War One.  At the centre of the novel is Gatsby, a man of a million acquaintances but, you suspect, no real friends.  The old flame, and love of Gatsby’s life, is Daisy, Carraway’s second cousin, and wife of the crude and brash Tom Buchanan.  Gatsby’s attempts to win Daisy are the driving force behind his every motive, but it is only when this comes to a head that the depth of the social problems – the lies, sleaze, and corruption – are fully revealed.  Gatsby's mysterious dealings, although never properly revealed, are hinted at, and his shady past is always lurking, waiting to pounce.  Ultimately, I don’t think anybody really achieves their American dream in the novel; the ideal is in part a falsity, just like the economy of credit and consumerism.  And just as these problems eventually caught up with the 1920s economy, so they catch up with all the protagonists of the book.  It is this that makes The Great Gatsby such a wonderful piece of craftsmanship.

As with Tender is the Night, Fitzgerald’s characterisation is nothing short of brilliant, and his ability to bring fictional people to life leaves you feeling as if you have personally met each one.  An inevitable comparison will always be made between this book, and Tender, but whilst the latter deals with many of Fitzgerald’s personal problems (and is, I feel, the deeper and more meaningful of the two books because of this), The Great Gatsby offers an unparalleled insight into the booming lifestyles of the super-rich in America, mixing the ideal of the American dream with a heavy dose of corruption and social unrest which underlay the entire decade.  Interwoven, and maybe impossible to separate from this, are the issues of love, regret and, most importantly, the foolishness of attempting to recapture the past.  The way in which these themes are so effortlessly brought together truly confirms The Great Gatsby as one of the best novels of the twentieth century, and Scott Fitzgerald one of its finest authors. 

Below is a picture of Lila Sara Gahar’s class at Tribhuvan School, Nepal, sporting their crisp blue uniforms, paid for through the charity Himalayan Learning.  Having recently visited Tribhuvan School, Himalayan Learning have created a short film, which can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vziskniuao4.  I can’t see Lila Sara in the film, but one nonetheless notes the poor condition of the school, which lacks benches, paper, and pencils.  It is, however, wonderful to see the children enjoying their learning, in spite of the many obstacles that they face.  I hope they are on the way to a much brighter future.

Himalayan Learning is a small charity, working to improve the conditions of schools throughout rural Nepal, in order to give some of the world’s poorest children the chance of a better life.  Their work is invaluable, and recent projects include the renovation of the rural Shanti Srijana school, and the ‘computer college’ campaign, which ships used computers, otherwise destined for landfill, to the region, where they can be used to teach children.  The charity relies on public awareness, and their website is well worth a look: http://www.himalayanlearning.org/.