This book brings together dozens of letters from various points in history, separating them into the following categories: 'How Women View Their Roles', 'Friendship', 'Childhood and Education', 'Love and Sexual Passion', 'Marriage and Childbirth', 'Housekeeping and Daily Life', 'Work', 'War and Alleviating Suffering', 'Travellers and Travelling', 'Illness and Ageing', and 'Political Skills'. It's an excellent collection, allowing the voices of the letters to travel through time with minimal interruption (though there are useful notes and biographies included).
Quite naturally, the letters I enjoyed most came from women I was already familiar with. For instance, I found Charlotte Bronte's letter to a friend at her publishing house following the death of Branwell Bronte particularly moving and Millicent Fawcett's account of sitting down for dinner with an MP who had previously vilified her was amusing. The wonderful thing about this book are the various changes in tempo. You do emerge from it feeling as though you've just done a crash-course in women's history.
The extraordinary is mixed with the ordinary though, inevitably, it's the tales of women in exceptional places that linger, making the 'Travellers and Travelling' chapter one of the most memorable of the book. I also found the 'Illness and Ageing' chapter fascinating, not least because of the letters of Queen Victoria included there. In a similar vein, the letters of Elizabeth I included in this collection are excellent little pieces of national and private history.
There are too many excellent letters in this collection to name. Although it took me quite some time to read this book, I'm glad I did. I find myself thinking about snippets of the letters in my daily life, especially those between Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West. If I had to pick one letter from this collection as my favourite it would likely be Woolf's comments to Sackville-West following the premature death of Katherine Mansfield. The observations of a literary rivalry are extremely poignant and touching, all with Woolf's natural style. That letter will live with me for a while.
This book was read as part of the 'TBR' reading challenge, details here.
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Monday, 27 July 2015
Thursday, 24 July 2014
Classic Film Review: Tender Comrade (1943)
Tender Comrade stars Ginger Rogers as Jo Jones, a war factory worker whose husband Chris (Robert Ryan) is away serving in WWII. Jo decides to move in with a few other workers to save money until their husbands returns. Barbara (Ruth Hussey) is a little abrasive, seeing other men while her husband is away, while Helen (Patricia Collinge) is the mother of the group with both a husband and a son involved in the fighting. Newly-wed Doris (Kim Hunter) is the baby of the group, having married her new husband an hour before he left for battle. They are joined by housekeeper Manya Lodge (Mady Christians), a German with an American husband who wants to contribute to the war effort any way she can.
This film could've been so much better than it was. The major problem is that story and character are subservient to propaganda all the way through, understandable, I suppose, given the year of release. However, this propaganda sinks the film. It beings with a sentimental ten minute reunion between Jo and Chris before he's shipped off to war. Perhaps this scene would've been more bearable if it hadn't been accompanied by music that told you exactly how you should be feeling. The opening scenes indulged in cliché which probably would've been as familiar to the American public in 1943 as they are to us now. Cutting out Robert Ryan entirely and just having the character of Chris away all the time would've been a better option for the actual meat of the story which should have been solely the women struggling to cope but finding companionship in each other. That would've been a great film, especially with Rogers as the lead.
Other things that irked me about Tender Comrade included the flashbacks. In order to use Robert Ryan, there were lengthy flashback scenes inserted which gave details of their courtship and life before he went to war. Over-sentimentalised, they frequently reminded me that this wasn't a film, more like a propaganda newsreel. In addition, the lengthy scene at the end of the film, while managed well by Rogers, lost all of its emotional meaning by its exposition and the inevitability of the whole thing. Yes, it was making a political point but, somewhere in the midst of that, the writers forgot they should also be trying to entertain their audience.
It wasn't all bad. Once Jo was surrounded by the other women, the character came alive and was enjoyable to watch. The other female members of the cast were the same. There were a couple of excellent scenes, the most notable being when Jo reads Helen a letter from her husband about their son. While this could ostensibly be seen as more propaganda, it came more naturally, stemming from character and the understated emotion of Rogers and Collinge in this scene is worth more than all the tears Rogers sheds in the last five minutes.
If you can look past the propaganda and focus on the scenes between the women, this is a much more enjoyable film. Look out particularly for the scene when Doris's husband comes home and they try to feed him up.
This film could've been so much better than it was. The major problem is that story and character are subservient to propaganda all the way through, understandable, I suppose, given the year of release. However, this propaganda sinks the film. It beings with a sentimental ten minute reunion between Jo and Chris before he's shipped off to war. Perhaps this scene would've been more bearable if it hadn't been accompanied by music that told you exactly how you should be feeling. The opening scenes indulged in cliché which probably would've been as familiar to the American public in 1943 as they are to us now. Cutting out Robert Ryan entirely and just having the character of Chris away all the time would've been a better option for the actual meat of the story which should have been solely the women struggling to cope but finding companionship in each other. That would've been a great film, especially with Rogers as the lead.
Other things that irked me about Tender Comrade included the flashbacks. In order to use Robert Ryan, there were lengthy flashback scenes inserted which gave details of their courtship and life before he went to war. Over-sentimentalised, they frequently reminded me that this wasn't a film, more like a propaganda newsreel. In addition, the lengthy scene at the end of the film, while managed well by Rogers, lost all of its emotional meaning by its exposition and the inevitability of the whole thing. Yes, it was making a political point but, somewhere in the midst of that, the writers forgot they should also be trying to entertain their audience.
It wasn't all bad. Once Jo was surrounded by the other women, the character came alive and was enjoyable to watch. The other female members of the cast were the same. There were a couple of excellent scenes, the most notable being when Jo reads Helen a letter from her husband about their son. While this could ostensibly be seen as more propaganda, it came more naturally, stemming from character and the understated emotion of Rogers and Collinge in this scene is worth more than all the tears Rogers sheds in the last five minutes.
If you can look past the propaganda and focus on the scenes between the women, this is a much more enjoyable film. Look out particularly for the scene when Doris's husband comes home and they try to feed him up.
Wednesday, 16 July 2014
Book Review: The Odd Women by George Gissing
The Odd Women is my third Gissing of the year, following earlier reviews of New Grub Street and The Emancipated. Chronologically, this one comes later and it draws on the themes of The Emancipated but in a much more coherent and pleasurable style. It tells the story of a group of 'odd women', that is women who have no hope of finding a husband because of the surplus and those who are actually 'strange'. It's a commentary on the marriage and employment markets for women and the rigid attitudes, both external and internal, which prevent women doing what they would like.
A number of women are introduced throughout the book. The main characters are Rhoda Nunn, Mary Barfoot and the three Madden sisters - Alice, Virginia and Monica. Rhoda and Mary run a secretarial school and the elder Madden sisters push Monica into bettering her prospects by learning these skills instead of working in a shop. However, Monica has been accosted by a strange, and fairly well-off, man, and chooses to marry him instead. Much of the novel documents her irritation with her husband's desperation for their isolation and her temptation by another man.
The other main strand of the novel is Rhoda's relationship with Mary's cousin Everard. This is the more fascinating strand, though the two do collide at different points. After first meeting Rhoda, Everard wants to see if he can make her fall in love with him and therefore test her opposition to love and marriage. He eventually falls for her but the struggle between them occupies a central part of the book. Misunderstandings and personality differences combine to impede any chance of a marriage between them.
With Gissing, I'm learning that not only will I be disconcerted throughout the reading of a book but I will also be a little miffed by the ending. The Odd Women is on a par with New Grub Street in this respect, leaving the reader pondering the other permutations the book could've left them with. In this sense, it was certainly a book that lingered with me for a few days.
Rhoda is an excellent character, full of contradictions that she's aware of and tries to reconcile with each other. The last picture of her in the narrative is a powerful one. On the other side of the coin, Monica is irritating, though she does mature a little as the book goes on. The contrast between the woman who doesn't need a husband and the one who wants the security of one could be heavy-handed but Gissing portrays Rhoda's struggles and Monica's realisations effectively. For me, one of the best scenes of the novel is the final encounter between Rhoda and Monica.
There are many incidental characters who tended to get confused in my head. Of the other more prominent characters, though, it's Virginia with her concealed alcoholism who stands out. It's half-funny, half-tragic and I do like the fact that both she and Alice get a reasonable due at the end of the novel.
Overall, I enjoyed The Odd Women. It didn't take as long to get going as The Emancipated and had a similar, strong female character at the heart of it who captured my attention. Definitely a book I'd like to re-read in the future.
A number of women are introduced throughout the book. The main characters are Rhoda Nunn, Mary Barfoot and the three Madden sisters - Alice, Virginia and Monica. Rhoda and Mary run a secretarial school and the elder Madden sisters push Monica into bettering her prospects by learning these skills instead of working in a shop. However, Monica has been accosted by a strange, and fairly well-off, man, and chooses to marry him instead. Much of the novel documents her irritation with her husband's desperation for their isolation and her temptation by another man.
The other main strand of the novel is Rhoda's relationship with Mary's cousin Everard. This is the more fascinating strand, though the two do collide at different points. After first meeting Rhoda, Everard wants to see if he can make her fall in love with him and therefore test her opposition to love and marriage. He eventually falls for her but the struggle between them occupies a central part of the book. Misunderstandings and personality differences combine to impede any chance of a marriage between them.
With Gissing, I'm learning that not only will I be disconcerted throughout the reading of a book but I will also be a little miffed by the ending. The Odd Women is on a par with New Grub Street in this respect, leaving the reader pondering the other permutations the book could've left them with. In this sense, it was certainly a book that lingered with me for a few days.
Rhoda is an excellent character, full of contradictions that she's aware of and tries to reconcile with each other. The last picture of her in the narrative is a powerful one. On the other side of the coin, Monica is irritating, though she does mature a little as the book goes on. The contrast between the woman who doesn't need a husband and the one who wants the security of one could be heavy-handed but Gissing portrays Rhoda's struggles and Monica's realisations effectively. For me, one of the best scenes of the novel is the final encounter between Rhoda and Monica.
There are many incidental characters who tended to get confused in my head. Of the other more prominent characters, though, it's Virginia with her concealed alcoholism who stands out. It's half-funny, half-tragic and I do like the fact that both she and Alice get a reasonable due at the end of the novel.
Overall, I enjoyed The Odd Women. It didn't take as long to get going as The Emancipated and had a similar, strong female character at the heart of it who captured my attention. Definitely a book I'd like to re-read in the future.
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
Book Review: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte
Like most people, I seem to have neglected Anne Bronte. I'm in the middle of reading Juliet Barker's mammoth The Brontes and so decided to take a break and read The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I'll admit that I wasn't expecting much. What actually happened was me realizing that I perhaps preferred this to both Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights.
The novel is essentially a letter from Gilbert Markham to his brother-in-law. The first section focuses on Gilbert's attendance on a new addition to the area, the mysterious tenant of the title, a Mrs Graham. She has a small son, Arthur, and is little reluctant to ingratiate herself in local affairs. Gilbert falls in love with her, though there are rumours that she's conducting a relationship with his friend, Frederick Lawrence. Helen eventually gives him a manuscript which explains her unhappy marriage to a drunkard and adulterer. Since I don't want to spoil the finale, I'll stop there.
What's striking about this novel is the portrayal of Helen Graham (Helen Huntingdon). To a modern reader, perhaps, her firmness in abandoning her husband (and, of course, taking her son with her) is unremarkable and expected but taken in the context of the period it's nothing short of astounding. What's more, Bronte never really suggests that Helen's in the wrong. Her portrayal of the degenerate husband is unflinchingly honest. There is one section in particular where Huntingdon and his friends really push the boundaries of respectability while staying at the Huntingdon home, Grassdale. The sustained scene of debauchery sticks in my memory as probably the most powerful in the book.
There are a couple of niggles, as with any novel. Essentially, we have to get to know two circles of friends and this proved especially tricky for me when we came back from Helen's diaries to Gilbert's own narrative. Remembering the intricacies of those relationships took me a little while. Equally, the final few chapters felt a little fragmented because of the events taking place over a period of time and involving several quick changes in the circumstances of the protagonists. That said, I'm nit-picking, trying to find fault with a novel I really enjoyed. It gave me food for thought but also managed to surprise me with its honesty. Not a lesser novel at all but a thoroughly excellent one. I'm not surprised Charlotte refused to have it reprinted after Anne's death!
The novel is essentially a letter from Gilbert Markham to his brother-in-law. The first section focuses on Gilbert's attendance on a new addition to the area, the mysterious tenant of the title, a Mrs Graham. She has a small son, Arthur, and is little reluctant to ingratiate herself in local affairs. Gilbert falls in love with her, though there are rumours that she's conducting a relationship with his friend, Frederick Lawrence. Helen eventually gives him a manuscript which explains her unhappy marriage to a drunkard and adulterer. Since I don't want to spoil the finale, I'll stop there.
What's striking about this novel is the portrayal of Helen Graham (Helen Huntingdon). To a modern reader, perhaps, her firmness in abandoning her husband (and, of course, taking her son with her) is unremarkable and expected but taken in the context of the period it's nothing short of astounding. What's more, Bronte never really suggests that Helen's in the wrong. Her portrayal of the degenerate husband is unflinchingly honest. There is one section in particular where Huntingdon and his friends really push the boundaries of respectability while staying at the Huntingdon home, Grassdale. The sustained scene of debauchery sticks in my memory as probably the most powerful in the book.
There are a couple of niggles, as with any novel. Essentially, we have to get to know two circles of friends and this proved especially tricky for me when we came back from Helen's diaries to Gilbert's own narrative. Remembering the intricacies of those relationships took me a little while. Equally, the final few chapters felt a little fragmented because of the events taking place over a period of time and involving several quick changes in the circumstances of the protagonists. That said, I'm nit-picking, trying to find fault with a novel I really enjoyed. It gave me food for thought but also managed to surprise me with its honesty. Not a lesser novel at all but a thoroughly excellent one. I'm not surprised Charlotte refused to have it reprinted after Anne's death!
Monday, 1 October 2012
Book Review: The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
I was certainly late to the party with The Handmaid's Tale. Margaret Atwood's 1985 novel imagines a dystopian future where strict Christian values have taken over and women, amongst others, are the major casualties. The protagonist, Offred, is the handmaid of the title, a fertile woman who has been put in the house of an important couple to have a baby for them. Slowly, via her monologue, we learn about her present and the past which created it, ending with a look at the future.
Atwood creates a potent world which is recognisable as our own but fundamentally different. She refrains from describing the world, allowing Offred to reveal it slowly. While this is effective, there was a sense for me that very little actually happened in the first third of the novel. This isn't to say that it wasn't interesting, just that an awful lot had to be set up before things 'out of the ordinary' could occur. However, Atwood's strong prose goes a long way towards making that irrelevant. One thing which irritated me personally were the varying chapter lengths cut up by subtitles. While I understood the significance of them, at times it felt like the flow was completely interrupted and I found it difficult to get back into the story. This was probably deliberate but it jarred on me occasionally.
The Handmaid's Tale is as relevant a novel now as it was in 1985. The thought occurred to me time and again while reading it and, for that reason alone, it's certainly worth reading. It's a social commentary about women, traditional values and religion which are all topics still prevalent in US politics and beyond. Not a disappointing novel by any stretch of the imagination but one that makes for uncomfortable reading throughout.
Atwood creates a potent world which is recognisable as our own but fundamentally different. She refrains from describing the world, allowing Offred to reveal it slowly. While this is effective, there was a sense for me that very little actually happened in the first third of the novel. This isn't to say that it wasn't interesting, just that an awful lot had to be set up before things 'out of the ordinary' could occur. However, Atwood's strong prose goes a long way towards making that irrelevant. One thing which irritated me personally were the varying chapter lengths cut up by subtitles. While I understood the significance of them, at times it felt like the flow was completely interrupted and I found it difficult to get back into the story. This was probably deliberate but it jarred on me occasionally.
The Handmaid's Tale is as relevant a novel now as it was in 1985. The thought occurred to me time and again while reading it and, for that reason alone, it's certainly worth reading. It's a social commentary about women, traditional values and religion which are all topics still prevalent in US politics and beyond. Not a disappointing novel by any stretch of the imagination but one that makes for uncomfortable reading throughout.
Thursday, 31 May 2012
Book Review: The Group by Mary McCarthy
The Group, published in 1963, tells the story of eight graduates from Vassar College in the 1930s. Although, really, it's 'the group plus one' as there are nine female characters who dominate, one of whom wasn't in 'the group' at college. I had to refer to the book to remember all their names - Kay, Lakey, Pokey, Priss, Libby, Polly, Helena, Dottie and (the addition) Norine.
The novel begins with Kay's wedding to budding playwright, Harald. It's an odd wedding, as 'the group' acknowledges, but that sets the tone for the rest of the book. Kay's marriage starts off as unconventional and is the cornerstone of the novel; the narrative essentially follows the circle caused by Kay's marriage. I won't say anything more than that, in case I ruin the ending. After Kay's wedding we begin to flit around the other characters, first learning about Dottie's sexual relationship with a man she meets at the wedding then dipping into the scandals, jobs and living arrangements of the others. It can occasionally be difficult to keep up with who's who (and, for this, I think it requires a second reading now I've got everyone straight in my head) and the narrator who slips from character to character when it suits was a little off-putting - but I think that's more personal preference than anything else.
What I did enjoy, and what seemed to be the main observation on publication, is the openness of the narrative. Sex, contraception, homosexuality, death, breastfeeding: it's all in there and more besides. It's an honest a book as you could hope for even in the twenty-first century and is refreshing because of it. McCarthy doesn't flinch from talking about the delicate aspects of life but, due to the large cast of characters, the jumping around of the narrative can be frustrating. I was really involved with Priss's troubles about her newborn son then we jumped to Polly's story. While we do come back to Priss later, I was desperate to know what had gone on in the interim! I suppose that's the mark of good fiction, though - if you don't care about the characters when they disappear from the page then the author hasn't been doing their job properly. There were, of course, characters I preferred (Polly, Helena, Lakey) and those I was less enamoured by (Pokey, Dottie). However, what continued to surprise me was how McCarthy unpeeled characters as she went along, explaining previous behaviour and revealing character traits in a sympathetic manner. Early on, Norine explains to Helena about her marriage in a way that almost made her likeable for a few pages. Later, when we see how Norine is getting on with her life, it's with the knowledge of what had happened previously but the audience (or, at least, I) still disliked her. It's difficult to explain how McCarthy makes her reader revel in sympathetic disdain but it happens for several characters.
I liked this book for many reasons: the honesty, the detail and planning that obviously went into every chapter, the auxiliary characters who didn't just fade on the page for a start. As I said, I had issues with the breadth of it and the inevitable diluting this caused, but I can't imagine the book working as well as it did any other way. In the space of seven years we follow these women through some of the most difficult (and enduringly difficult) aspects of life. It might be set in the thirties but it still feels relevant.
It took me until the final pages to realise what I couldn't quite put my finger on about Lakey - and cemented why I liked her without quite knowing why. If you're interested in reading a novel that puts female issues unashamedly at the very heart of it then you certainly couldn't do much better than The Group.
The novel begins with Kay's wedding to budding playwright, Harald. It's an odd wedding, as 'the group' acknowledges, but that sets the tone for the rest of the book. Kay's marriage starts off as unconventional and is the cornerstone of the novel; the narrative essentially follows the circle caused by Kay's marriage. I won't say anything more than that, in case I ruin the ending. After Kay's wedding we begin to flit around the other characters, first learning about Dottie's sexual relationship with a man she meets at the wedding then dipping into the scandals, jobs and living arrangements of the others. It can occasionally be difficult to keep up with who's who (and, for this, I think it requires a second reading now I've got everyone straight in my head) and the narrator who slips from character to character when it suits was a little off-putting - but I think that's more personal preference than anything else.
What I did enjoy, and what seemed to be the main observation on publication, is the openness of the narrative. Sex, contraception, homosexuality, death, breastfeeding: it's all in there and more besides. It's an honest a book as you could hope for even in the twenty-first century and is refreshing because of it. McCarthy doesn't flinch from talking about the delicate aspects of life but, due to the large cast of characters, the jumping around of the narrative can be frustrating. I was really involved with Priss's troubles about her newborn son then we jumped to Polly's story. While we do come back to Priss later, I was desperate to know what had gone on in the interim! I suppose that's the mark of good fiction, though - if you don't care about the characters when they disappear from the page then the author hasn't been doing their job properly. There were, of course, characters I preferred (Polly, Helena, Lakey) and those I was less enamoured by (Pokey, Dottie). However, what continued to surprise me was how McCarthy unpeeled characters as she went along, explaining previous behaviour and revealing character traits in a sympathetic manner. Early on, Norine explains to Helena about her marriage in a way that almost made her likeable for a few pages. Later, when we see how Norine is getting on with her life, it's with the knowledge of what had happened previously but the audience (or, at least, I) still disliked her. It's difficult to explain how McCarthy makes her reader revel in sympathetic disdain but it happens for several characters.
I liked this book for many reasons: the honesty, the detail and planning that obviously went into every chapter, the auxiliary characters who didn't just fade on the page for a start. As I said, I had issues with the breadth of it and the inevitable diluting this caused, but I can't imagine the book working as well as it did any other way. In the space of seven years we follow these women through some of the most difficult (and enduringly difficult) aspects of life. It might be set in the thirties but it still feels relevant.
It took me until the final pages to realise what I couldn't quite put my finger on about Lakey - and cemented why I liked her without quite knowing why. If you're interested in reading a novel that puts female issues unashamedly at the very heart of it then you certainly couldn't do much better than The Group.
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
Coronation Street at 50
It may seem strange for a twenty three year-old to say that the era of Corrie she identifies as her favourite is the one during the decade before she was born.
Thanks to the wonder of now-defunct channel, Granada Plus, I spent most of my childhood caught up in the lives of Elsie Tanner, Ena Sharples, Rita Fairclough and company. The world of the contemporary Corrie was the period before the axeman, Brian Park, took hold. It was slightly boring and nothing at all like the episodes I idolised.
As Coronation Street celebrates fifty years on television there are a lot of people reminiscing. Indeed, ITV have Victoria Wood narrating a 'Top 50' moments as part of the celebrations. I was one of the many who voted in this and I wonder if I was the only person annoyed by the prescription of the exercise. After all, a drop-down box with a list of events that we had to pick ten of required somebody to narrow down what they thought were 'noteworthy' storylines. The number of modern ones included obviously pandered to the modern audience. We'll get a couple of classics in the top ten, I'm sure, but I would've liked a system of choosing half from the prescribed list then selecting some of their own. I'm sure some would've cropped up often enough to be included in the list.
No one denies that times have changed in the television world. The Barlow family sitting around the table throwing dismayed looks over the sauce bottle won't cut it in a world that wants action, action, action and non-stop emotional drama. Hence why a tram just crashed into the Corner Shop and dropped its rear end on Rita Sullivan's head. To be fair on Corrie, it doesn't indulge in enormous events as often as Eastenders and Emmerdale do. Of course, you get the disproportionate number of murders, fires and affairs, but very rarely is a huge slice of the population put in danger.
One of the reasons I stopped watching Coronation Street regularly about five years ago was the swelling size of the cast and the introduction of characters I couldn't be bothered to care about. I think that's still a problem. If I went in tomorrow as another Brian Park style axeman I would take out a number of characters without hesitation. John, Kirk, Cheryl, Russ, Chris, Lloyd, Steve, Janice, Dev, Sunita, the Windass family and Julie are some of the characters immediately on my hit list (this disregards any deaths from the tram crash as I'm avoiding spoilers like the plague for this one). My favourite current characters are some stalwarts and some new legends: Eileen, Rita, Emily, Peter, Carla and Sophie. It's no coincidence that five of them are women. Strong female characters are what Corrie has always done best.
However, if you look at the names on the cobbles now and compare them with the Seventies, for instance, there's no comparison. How do Elsie, Annie, Hilda and Ena stack up against Gail, Eileen, Becky and Leanne? The former wipe with the floor with the latter any day of the week. In another fifty years I don't know how many of the modern crop will be remembered but Elsie Tanner won't be a name easily forgotten.
It was while watching the first episode on Monday that I realised how good it once was. Pat Phoenix lit up the screen, Violet Carson made you smirk, Doris Speed made you feel faintly uncomfortable. I don't know if you can ever recapture that success; I don't even know if a modern audience would want to try.
There's a lot of talk that Corrie could continue for another half-century. Unfortunately, I don't think the appetite for good television will last that long. Coronation Street has already changed beyond recognition and you have to wonder how much further the soap can bend.
Thanks to the wonder of now-defunct channel, Granada Plus, I spent most of my childhood caught up in the lives of Elsie Tanner, Ena Sharples, Rita Fairclough and company. The world of the contemporary Corrie was the period before the axeman, Brian Park, took hold. It was slightly boring and nothing at all like the episodes I idolised.
As Coronation Street celebrates fifty years on television there are a lot of people reminiscing. Indeed, ITV have Victoria Wood narrating a 'Top 50' moments as part of the celebrations. I was one of the many who voted in this and I wonder if I was the only person annoyed by the prescription of the exercise. After all, a drop-down box with a list of events that we had to pick ten of required somebody to narrow down what they thought were 'noteworthy' storylines. The number of modern ones included obviously pandered to the modern audience. We'll get a couple of classics in the top ten, I'm sure, but I would've liked a system of choosing half from the prescribed list then selecting some of their own. I'm sure some would've cropped up often enough to be included in the list.
No one denies that times have changed in the television world. The Barlow family sitting around the table throwing dismayed looks over the sauce bottle won't cut it in a world that wants action, action, action and non-stop emotional drama. Hence why a tram just crashed into the Corner Shop and dropped its rear end on Rita Sullivan's head. To be fair on Corrie, it doesn't indulge in enormous events as often as Eastenders and Emmerdale do. Of course, you get the disproportionate number of murders, fires and affairs, but very rarely is a huge slice of the population put in danger.
One of the reasons I stopped watching Coronation Street regularly about five years ago was the swelling size of the cast and the introduction of characters I couldn't be bothered to care about. I think that's still a problem. If I went in tomorrow as another Brian Park style axeman I would take out a number of characters without hesitation. John, Kirk, Cheryl, Russ, Chris, Lloyd, Steve, Janice, Dev, Sunita, the Windass family and Julie are some of the characters immediately on my hit list (this disregards any deaths from the tram crash as I'm avoiding spoilers like the plague for this one). My favourite current characters are some stalwarts and some new legends: Eileen, Rita, Emily, Peter, Carla and Sophie. It's no coincidence that five of them are women. Strong female characters are what Corrie has always done best.
However, if you look at the names on the cobbles now and compare them with the Seventies, for instance, there's no comparison. How do Elsie, Annie, Hilda and Ena stack up against Gail, Eileen, Becky and Leanne? The former wipe with the floor with the latter any day of the week. In another fifty years I don't know how many of the modern crop will be remembered but Elsie Tanner won't be a name easily forgotten.
It was while watching the first episode on Monday that I realised how good it once was. Pat Phoenix lit up the screen, Violet Carson made you smirk, Doris Speed made you feel faintly uncomfortable. I don't know if you can ever recapture that success; I don't even know if a modern audience would want to try.
There's a lot of talk that Corrie could continue for another half-century. Unfortunately, I don't think the appetite for good television will last that long. Coronation Street has already changed beyond recognition and you have to wonder how much further the soap can bend.
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