I was recently at my parents house bored, snooping around when I came across some old English Literature books I studied at GCSE. As I flicked through the pages I noticed instantly my 'awesome' annotation notes which quite frankly made no arsing sense, accompanied nicely with graffiti styled pages where my friends and I felt the need to draw rude pictures and write in red biro "this book is a pile of shit" and the hilarious "you smell like poo!"
This got me thinking about whether reading and writing non sensical essays on these so called classic novels and plays actually helped form my character in some way, or paved the way for my 'career' I have yet to encounter. The simple and most direct answer is no. I can put my hand on my heart and say that 'Of Mice and Men', 'An Inspector Calls', 'The Go Between', 'The Return of the Native', War and Peace poems have not enlightened me at all... And don't get me started on Bill Shakespeare who clearly was smoking crack when he wrote his iconic plays.
The only thing I can take away from these movers and shakers in the corrupt world of the school curriculum, is that they taught me you can write complete bollox, make up a hidden obscure meanings only obvious to someone who has injected heroin into their eye ball, and pass it off as controversial, poignant and genius. SO clap clap Thomas Hardy, Thom Gunn, Shake-a-speare, Seamus Heaney and Chaucer for muddling my mind with your obvious intelligence. I salute you!
I suppose the question I am presenting is whether there is any relevance for the above mentioned writers here in 2010... but I can't be arsed to address this deep subject matter as I'm a little hungover...so I wont. I simply like to make outlandish statements with no real substance. That's just how I roll!
A Level English Lit
“Roll Of Thunder Hear My Cry”
I want to ask the curriculum why
I was made to study books cited as ‘classics’
Which often left my thought process static.
Old skool notions of war and peace
And nonsensical portrayals of love so sweet
Laborious highlighting screaming ‘ironic’
Dull rehearsed tones of another love sonnet
‘Get Up, Stand Up’ but I is not a revolution
To shake up the masses injecting confusion
If only I had the power, the authority, the speech
To switch up the program, give eyes to dem dat teach
But there I sat silent to the powers that be
Daydreaming of opening the university of Bob Marley.