Journey’s End: The Film

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For my first post in 2017, I want to talk for a moment about the upcoming film adaptation of Journey’s End. I was entirely unaware of it until I came across an article in The Guardian just before Christmas, to be found here. Anyone who follows me on twitter will be aware that the article immediately made me rather angry with its assumption that women do not read books on the First World War, and apparently want nothing to do with it unless it’s all nicely digestible as a play (?!). Really, it’s not as though women have written books on the First World War or anything of the sort..

Aside from my anger at the needless comment regarding gender and apparent interest or lack thereof in the First World War, I was somewhat nervous (and remain nervous) about this adaptation. I adore Sherriff’s play and have seen it as a piece of live theatre – harrowing, intimate and deeply affecting, it has stayed with me for a long time.

For me, one of the aspects of the play that I consider to be important is Stanhope’s youth. As far as I can recall (as I don’t have the text with me at present) he is in his early twenties – Sam Claflin however is in his thirties. That takes away an aspect of his character that adds to the way in which the audience view how Stanhope gradually breaks down and the coping mechanism he elects to use. His youth adds another sort of melancholy; one of his older subordinates looks upon him as a son more than a commanding officer, and having Claflin play Stanhope removes this element of the relationship between Stanhope and those he commands.

Secondly, I am just generally hesitant about the film as a whole. The poster feels a little cloying, the tagline ‘innocence lost. courage found’ is..well. Probably not what I would have gone for – it feels a little overwrought and not necessarily relevant. The depiction of Stanhope’s gradual breakdown and his relationship with Raleigh are what I feel anchor the play so firmly – if either of these are handled badly, one wonders what the film will end up becoming.

Still, one cannot judge a film that has not yet been released on the strength of the cast and one poster! I’d love to hear what everyone else thinks of this upcoming adaptation – optimistic? wary? not-all-that-fussed?

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the glorious dead – tim atkinson

I was lucky enough to have chance to interview an author who’s work I am extremely interested in. Tim’s book details the story of several characters from the First World War who stayed behind in France once the war was over to find and bury the bodies that were left by the fighting. Below is the interview we conducted – via email mind!

– where did you get the idea from – what inspired you?

Two things got the ball rolling. I was doing some research into a relative who served in Flanders during WW1 and discovered that his battalion had been destroyed in early 1918. The soldier was transferred to a unit I’d never heard of called an ‘entrenching battalion’ and I was inspired to find out more. Some time later a chance conversation with a friend intrigued me. He said a relative of his had suffered from the effects if gas – in spite of not serving abroad until 1919. It was news to me that soldiers were still being sent abroad in 1919. And I was intrigued to know what he was doing – and how he’d been gassed.

Can you tell me a little more about the book?

It’s a war book (obviously) but a war book with a difference. First, the action only starts once the guns stop firing. And rather than battles, attacks, it’s about the aftermath – the enormous clearing up operation that involved finding and burying the thousands of bodies abandoned on the road to victory. But it’s also about the individual aftermath for the men involved – all of whom, to some extent, can only cope with the end of the war by remaining abroad doing the Empire’s dirty work.

What was your research process before you began writing – or did you research as you went along?

Both, really. I spent a lot of time reading just about all the books on the subject that I could find. I also spent some time trawling the archives of the Imperial War Museum as well as going to Flanders, staying in Ypres and walking the streets and the battlefields described in the book.

Are there any particular stories you came across during researching that stuck with you more than any other?

The exhumation of the battlefield cemetery at Wild Wood was especially poignant (you can read an extract describing it on the Unbound website).

Is there a character of yours whose journey moves you more than any other, or even a character who you favour a little more over the others?

The main protagonist, I suppose, has to take centre stage and it’s his journey from battle-scarred veteran suffering what would now be called post-traumatic stress disorder to a man if not at peace with himself, then certainly at peace with his past that is the book’s central theme. But that personal journey mirrors the wider social journey as a country devastated by war slowly comes to terms with what has happens and starts to think about the future.

The cemeteries and monuments kept by the CWGC are always beautifully maintained; is there one that you feel you have a connection to?

There are some tiny battlefield cemeteries on the Somme that are especially memorable – places like New Munich trench cemetery near Beaumont-Hamel where around 100 men are buried, usually from the same regiment and often close to where they fell. But my favourite is probably Ypres ramparts cemetery because of it’s location on the eastern ramparts of that devastated city as well as its stunning beauty, especially in autumn.

There are many heart-felt epitaphs on some of the gravestones out in France, are there any that you found particularly moving, or that you chose to feature in the book?

The original title of the book was ‘Known unto God’ which appears, of course, on thousands of headstones. In terms of the book, it’s appropriate both to the work of the exhumation company about whom the book is written and to the central secret that keeps the main character, Jack Patterson, in Flanders finding bodies, digging graves and avoiding something – or someone – back in England.

You’ve chosen to use Unbound to publish your work – why have you decided to go down this route?

They were the first people to see the MS and they liked what they read and were immediately encouraging. And I like what they’re doing. I’ve been published ‘traditionally’ a number of times by a number of different publishers and haven’t ever felt in control of what was happening. I like the fact that artistically I’m wholly responsible – which mean I’ve got to persuade the public that what I’m doing is worth reading! That’s hard work but I think there’s a decent chance of getting better books this way. I was am Unbound customer long before I become one of their potential authors and I’m delighted to have supported so many books that I really wanted to read, but which might not otherwise have been written.

If you are interested in donating to fund the publication of Tim’s book or want to find out more, check out his Unbound page here!

remembrance of women

the souls of the faithful are in the hands of God.

I am used to seeing men on war memorials, on the cenotaphs that stand in the centre of towns, the neat white headstones of the CWGC, memorial tablets that hang in churches as they commemorate the sons and fathers of the parish. I often seek them out in new places that I visit, wondering about the men whose names grace the walls of a church, where their service led them and who it was they left behind.

What I do not often see however, is the names of women on these memorials, be they from the First World War, or the Second. They are curiously absent from places where one might assume they be. After all, women served as nurses close to the front lines, they were employed as munitions workers and some died. I am aware of women who have gravestones which are maintained by the CWGC, but I have never been able to see any of them myself.

Perhaps it has changed now, but I also found them absent in the curriculum in which I was taught. The war, to me at the age of twelve, was simply men and mud and trenches (as I am sure I have mentioned before) – there was no mention of the women and the part they played in the war effort. Of course, this was different when it came to being taught about the Second World War – perhaps because the home front was more of a component.

I was therefore extremely pleased to find a war memorial with women on it. The memorial stands in Ripley square, a small town about ten minutes out of Harrogate. It’s a stone obelisk on which are two panels, one for the First World War, and one for the second. At the top are the names of those who lost their lives, and below this are the names of all from the town who served. It is a wealth of information, as after each name comes the regiment in which they served, as well as their theatre of war – another thing which I do not often see.

The names of the three women are on the side of the memorial which is dedicated to the Second World War – Pvt. Amy Barrow (ATS, Home Service), Army Sister Maude Doris Mankin (QAINS, West Africa) and Sgt. Dorothy Clark (ATS).

Perhaps sometime I’ll research these ladies and their service and I’ll most certainly keep an eye out for any women within the spaces for remembrance of the First World War.

(I am currently reading: The Beauty and the Sorrow: An Intimate History of the First World War – Peter Englund)

Other Fronts, Other Spaces

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June has been a quiet month for blogging, mostly because I’ve been busy, so I thought I’d best get a post in! My internship has formally finished, but I’ve still been returning to Leeds Museums to help out with the Somme commemorations! This post is a review of a study day which I attended just before my placement came to an end.

Towards the end of my placement year with Leeds Museums and Galleries, I attended a study day at the Wellcome Trust in London entitled Other Fronts, Other Spaces: First World War Nursing. Nursing is not an aspect of the First World War that I find myself focusing on. Though I have seen some exhibitions and read some memoirs, I would not consider myself to know any more than the average on the topic, but the day remedied that and certainly had my interest when it came to certain papers.

There were three panels and two separate talks about different projects related to nursing and I could natter on all day about every single paper, but for the sake of brevity, I’ll just be making note of the papers that I personally enjoyed the most.

Prof. Alison Fell’s paper, Crossing Borders: National variations in images of First World War nurses was a talk which I thoroughly enjoyed – looking at the differing images of nurses used in propaganda and recruitment materials. It was especially interesting noting how many depictions fit a certain number of archetypes.

Sue Hawkins paper, The Indian Princess and the Lady Racer: WWI Stories from the VAD Archive was fascinating and definitely inspired me to look more into the stories of the nurses and others who worked alongside them. It was also interesting to note the different demographics of nurses and the jobs that they had (such as x-ray and lab assistants, something which had never previously crossed my mind). The work to digitise the Red Cross archive was wonderful to hear about. It’s fantastic that so many of these resources are now online and so easily accessible.

Finally, Alice Kelly’s piece, Commemorative Gestures: Nurses Writing Death in the Great War was a paper which looked at the idea of the war as the turning point in the attitude of the people towards death. Something which struck me particularly was the reference to the Victorian’s view of death and dying – that there was a way to ‘die well’ and to die well was to die quietly – it became idealised in a sense. Mourning was ostentatious and literature was a consolidation of death. The war however, was – as Alice Kelly termed it – an “unexpected assault on the Victorian idea of death.” In the 1912 Red Cross manual for nurses, they were primarily concerned with the logistics of death, but they were sadly not formally prepared for the scale of mass death which they would encounter. There was a renegotiation of death and dying throughout the First World War, public forms of remembrance came to the forefront and there was a desire to personalise the anonymous death, something that I, personally, see so keenly in the work of the CWGC.

Other Fronts, Other Spaces really was a wonderful study day and gave me much food to thought. Many thanks to all those who gave papers at the day, and to Leeds Museums for letting me tag along!

 

a dear sacred voice;

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I am incredibly pleased to announce that my exhibition, Behind the Lines, looking at the war poetry of Leeds and the way in which the people of the City creatively responded to the war, has all been printed and delivered. It’s been an amazing two months putting it together, from investigating the work in our collections to writing interpretation and receiving the final proofs.

At present, the exhibition can be seen from 1st July at Leeds Central Library and then at Leeds City Museum during October half term. Keep an eye out here and on twitter for information of when and where it will be on display outside of these two dates.

If you, or anyone you know would be interested in displaying the exhibition or want to find out more, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me via twitter or email!

Behind the Lines: War Poetry in Leeds

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And the burning lips that Adonis kissed/Had never the glory that haloes thine.

As I have posted previously, I’m currently engaged in a placement year with Leeds Museums. It’s been a wonderful year and one which I am beginning to dread the end of. I’ve met and worked with some fantastic people and been granted so many amazing opportunities that I would not otherwise have had.

One of these things is the opportunity to put together my own exhibition. The idea was first put to me when I began my placement in September – of course I thought it sounded fantastic, but didn’t give much more immediate thought to it. Imagine that – 21 year old me with her own exhibit, ha!

However, here we are in March and I am currently awaiting the first design drafts!

The exhibition is titled Behind The Lines and looks at the war poetry written and treasured by the men and women of Leeds from 1914-1919, how they used poetry to communicate their feelings about the war, from optimism and motivation through to the anger and grief that marked the later years, including the immediate post-war world of 1919. Behind the Lines explores the work of three poets; Eric Fitzwater Wilkinson who was a Captain in the Leeds Rifles, Dorothy Una Ratcliffe who was an accomplished poet in her own right before the war and finally, the work of an unknown soldier found in a box of possessions belonging to a soldier from Armley.

All the poetry comes from the museum collection, and from people who had a connection with Leeds. It’s been an immense privilege to be able to appreciate this work and bring it to a wider audience. Eric Fitzwater Wilkinson’s work in particular is wonderfully evocative in its descriptions and at times, incredibly moving. His collection of poetry, entitled Sunrise Dreams, covers the early idealism of 1914 through to the sharp realisations that 1916 brought. I have chosen two of his pieces, alongside Dorothy Una Ratcliffe’s poem. Her work is addressed to the women of Leeds in their grief at the loss of husbands, sons and brothers, providing a startling glance into one of the most all-encompassing feelings shared by humanity. The remaining poem which marks the start of the exhibition is a semi-surreal but entirely comic look at the rigours of training to become a soldier, written by an anonymous author.

While Eric Fitzwater Wilkinson became a published poet within his lifetime, there are other examples of work in the collection which were never published and remain as extracts from letters, meticulously typed out onto a typewriter, the words no less filled with meaning for their lack of a wider audience. One of the poems which I ultimately decided not to include for reasons of both space and chronology, has the opening line of ‘T’was the break of dawn in Flanders and the morning promised bright.’ The piece, written by an anonymous member of the RAMC in the West Riding Division is another, unique look at war through the prism of a non-combatant’s experience, but one who still saw with acute clarity the terrible continuation of war. The poem also celebrates the camaraderie and the courage of both soldiers and the RAMC.

It was difficult choosing just four poems for this exhibition and I do hope that the rest of the poems in the collection will eventually be showcased at some point, be this during the centenary or afterward.

Behind the Lines is a portable exhibition. Dates, times and locations of display TBA. 

those who witness such destruction

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may never witness the like again

 Having poetry read aloud gives it another layer, one which rests on the speakers voice. The way in which they utter the words, the moments at which they pause, the tone they settle and the feeling with which they imbue the words. It all adds something that is not always there when reading alone to oneself.

Hearing Jim Carter read some of my most favourite poetry on the Show of Hands album, opened them up further to me. Sitting and letting the words wash over me or walking across the fields and moors in the rain with the lines of The Silent One, overlaid on a quietly whistling track of Tipperary, the song fading at the same time as the poem – it gave the poem something new, and gave me something new too; a feeling of atmosphere, stronger than just the words of Gurney himself.

The album itself consists of two discs – the first one of spoken word poems. It begins with Wilfred Owen’s Anthem and ends with The Fallen by Laurence Binyon; therefore it is not chronological in nature. Many of the poems are ones which would be familiar to a great deal of people but there are also ones that I had never read or seen before such as Yvan Goll’s Requiem for the Dead of Europe. The lack of chronology means that there is no overarching narrative particularly, and I do wonder what the impetus was for ordering the tracks. The second disc is a collection of songs by the band themselves, though some have been written by others. A few of the songs, such as The Gamekeeper have appeared on previous albums, but are now given a new arrangement.

The middle of the first disc finds the band putting Bombed Last Night [x] alongside The General by Sassoon. It feels unspeakably right – darkest humour against the righteous anger and indignation of the poet. It is almost chilling in a way as the voices of the men who are singing slowly fade out and away, after the poem itself has already finished, leaving one with a distinctly uncomfortable, almost eerie feeling. There are other, more familiar songs which have been attached to poems, such as I Vow to Thee my Country, alongside Jessie Pope’s The Call. The poem ends in a gently questioning manner, yet the song rises above it – soaring and then fading gradually – like optimism itself slowly losing conviction. One wonders what it would have felt like to be surrounded by such propaganda, nudging and cajoling and pushing that it was the right thing to do, to sign up.

There are other poems that are left well alone, with just voice and no music – Owen’s Anthem for Doomed Youth, the textured voice of Carter bringing new panic and strain to those immortal words “Gas, GAS!” and then a gently exasperated tone to The Soldier Addresses His Body, one which fits so well – a chummy conversation occurring that I would never have given to Rickword’s piece. Similarly, Brooke’s The Soldier is reminiscent I think, of a son speaking to his mother, seeking to reassure her – a more human and gentle look at a poem that I simply saw previously as a particularly blind kind of patriotism harking from Edwardian England.

The songs on the second part of this recording are not ones that I have ever heard, but I believe some may be more familiar to those who have listened to Show of Hands before. The Padre, from the view of an army chaplain is the voice of a man who watches the soldiers who first come to him, unknowing of what they will face, and he remains with them until the very end when he is the one to give them a last ‘grain of comfort.’ He sees them as all the same, as his ‘flock’, whether they believe in God or not – a true leveller and an interesting look into what might have been on a chaplain’s mind. The beginning of the song suggests that he was once a parish chaplain – thrust now into this land where he watches those around him train, fight and die, whilst he remains.

The Lads in their Hundreds by A.E. Houseman has also been turned into a song, sung by Imelda Staunton, different in tone to the spoken poem of earlier in the track listing. There is a jolly nature to it, that if one did not pay attention to the words, might delude one into considering it to be a bright piece. There are other songs here which are popular songs from the period such as the ever present Long Way to Tipperary. The song is first heard alongside Sassoon’s Concert Party: Busseboom, but is presented here without words, and is instead an interesting combination of beatbox and harmonica. Whilst reading reviews before I purchased the album, I was slightly repelled by this – confused as to how on earth it would work, wary that it would seem gauche. In listening to it however, it does work, in an odd sort of way. The beginning, with a lone harmonica, brings to mind someone quietly eking out the song on a battered mouth organ in a dugout, an image with startling power. It gives way however, to the sounds of beatboxing. It is not the sound which I associate with it, instead it is almost akin to the fading fall of bombs, the explosions the final sound of the track.

There are few major rearrangements and reinterpretations of tracks such as this, the majority of songs from the period sounding more or less akin to what I imagine they would have sounded like. Despite this, I do like this album – though I have a soft spot for older music, the tunes from the 1940s and 50s, and the second part of this album is somewhat similar. I would recommend it more for the poetry readings than the songs themselves on merit alone. It is an interesting artistic response to the centenary and one which I continually find myself coming back to.

Centenary: Words and Music of the Great War can be purchased on iTunes and Amazon.

 

(on a mostly unrelated note, I have now had this blog for two years! A huge thank you to everyone who has stayed with it – and me – from the beginning, and to those who have come across it more recently, RT’d links on twitter or shared them on Facebook. It is so very much appreciated!)