Like moons, Ancient Greece and adolescence, spring has given writers inspiration for centuries. “To what purpose, April, do you return again?” asks Edna St Vincent Millay, noting the “redness / of little leaves” and “the spikes of the crocus”. To Shakespeare, this time of year puts “the spirit of youth in everything”; for Seamus Heaney, it comes when “the meadow hay [is] buttercupped and daisied”.To each of these poets, spring happens outside. Only Langston Hughes notes how its rain “plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night”, suggesting that there are ways for spring to be noticed and recorded by those of us indoors.For many this year, a different spring has come. How we respond to it, and describe it, has changed as well. Deborah Levy, in her recent lockdown diary, turns her focus slowly inwards – from her neighbours, to her TV set, to her dreams – but also outwards, writing of the UK’s political situation and her gratitude for the nation’s emergency services. Without nature to lean on, the things we use to explain the patterns and revelations of the year are changing. The interior space takes over: the house, the mind.What else might change, for readers and writers? For those with 9-to-5 employment, the clearly marked hours of the commute have gone; for parents, the time when their children are usually at school or nursery. As many have noted, this has affected us creatively: when we might once have been reading and writing, or when we could expect to be alone, we... Continue reading at 'British Council global'
[ British Council global | 2020-05-01 14:56:50 UTC ]