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منتدى كلية الآداب بالدمام منتدى كلية الآداب بالدمام ; مساحة للتعاون و تبادل الخبرات بين طالبات كلية الآداب بالدمام و نقل آخر الأخبار و المستجدات . |
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أدوات الموضوع |
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#231 |
أكـاديـمـي ألـمـاسـي
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رد: last year......old plan group
بنات وش اخذتوا مع د حصصة ؟!
ياليت اللي عرفت شئ عن تعريف20 تحط الرابط |
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#232 |
أكـاديـمـي ألـمـاسـي
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رد: last year......old plan group
بنات وش اخذتوا مع د حصصة ؟!
ياليت اللي عرفت شئ عن تعريف20 تحط الرابط |
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#233 |
أكـاديـمـي مـشـارك
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رد: last year......old plan group
بنات ممكن احد يحط لي قرروب حصة الكهلان يعني اسمه
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#234 |
أكـاديـمـي فـعّـال
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رد: last year......old plan group
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#235 |
أكـاديـمـي فـضـي
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رد: last year......old plan group
بنات هذي المسرحيه قلت انزلها تستفيدو
الرغم مرور ٨٩ عاماً على كتابتها وآلاف المرات التي قُدّمت فيها على المسرح لا تزال مسرحية «ست شخصيات تبحث عن مؤلف» تثير الاهتمام. ويقول المخرج والممثل المسرحي الإيطالي جوليو بوزيتّي بالتأكيد. المسرح الحديث ينطلق من مسرحية «ست شخصيات تبحث عن مؤلف».[1] بـ «ست شخصيات...» أحدث بيرانديللو كارثة في المسرح الإيطالي لأنه أظهر، قبل كل شيء ما هي إمكانات استخدام الجدار الرابع واختراقه، أي النزول إلى القاعة واستخدام المسرح بأكمله. في أعوام العشــرينات كان المسرح، وبالذات في إيطاليا، متأخراً. ففيما كان في الدول الأخرى مخرجون وأســـس الإخراج المسرحي كما في فرنسا مثل دولان وفي روسيا ستانسلافسكي كان الوضع المسرحي في إيطاليا تحت هيمنة الممثل الأول الذي يُدير الأعمال. تجري المسرحية في يوم صيفي ماطر وراعد. فبينما تستعد فرقة مسرحية لإجراء تدريباتها اليومية على مسرحية «لعبة الأدوار» للويجي بيرانديللو، تقتحم المشهد، في شكل مفاجئ، مجموعة مكوّنة من ست شخصيات هي الأب والأم والابن الأكبر وأولاد الأم من علاقـــة أخرى، البنت الكبرى والصغرى والابن الأوسط. ليسوا أشخاصاً بل شخصيات، كما يقول الأب لمخرج المسرح، وقد ولدت هذه الشخصيات في رأس كاتب رفض وضعها على الورقة وعجز عن تجسيدها ومنحها الحياة لتعيش في عمل فني. إلا أنها، أي الشخصيات، تحلم وتتأوه من أجل أن تعيش وتُجسِّد المأساة التي تعيشها». الأم، التي كانت رزقت بالولد البكر، أُغرمت بسكرتير زوجها القادم من محيطها الاجتماعي المتواضع. وحين أدرك الأب وجود تلك العلاقة انسحب جانباً واختفى عن الأنظار وأخذ ابنه البكر معه.أنتجت العلاقة الجديدة بين الأم وعشيقها ثلاثة أولاد، ابنة وصبي وطـــفلة صغيرة. وبعد مرور سنوات طويلة ومن دون إدراك منه يلتقي الأب بابنة زوجته الكبرى في مخـــدع للعاهرات ويكاد يرتبط بها لولا التدخّل المفاجئ للأم التي تصرخ بالأب: «لا، هي إبنتي!!!» وتحـــول دون قــيام علاقـــة محـــرّمة! تولّد عودة العائلة إلى المنزل مشكلة أخرى بالذات مع الابن البكر والذي ينغلق وراء رفــض كامل لوجود هؤلاء ويغرق في صمت مطــبق ومعاد لاخوته الثلاثة ووالدته.تتعقد الأمور أكثر فأكثر عندما تغرق الصغيرة في حوض بحديقة الدار بينما يحدّق فيها شقيقها الأصغر. وبعد غرق الصغيرة يُطلق الصبي النار على رأسه منتحراً. «الممثل الأول»، الذي كان انزعج من وجود الشخصيات على الخشبة وطالبها بالرحيل حتى يتمكّن من إجراء تدريباته، يبدأ بالإعجاب بالرواية ويعتقد أنها تصلح لأن تُجسَّد على الخشبة. لكن هذا الإعجاب يقود الشخصيات الست إلى مأساة أخرى. ولا تجد الشخصيات الممثلين ما يؤهلهم ليعيشوا مأساة الشخصيات الست. فالشخصيات الست وحدها هي القادرة على أن تعيش مأساتها التي تمثّل في نهاية المطاف حياتها. وهي حياة تتكرر بخلود الفن. يقول مخرج العمل جوليو بوزيتّي في كل مرة نشاهد مسرحية «ست شخصيات تبحث عن مؤلف» نُذهل دائماً فنحن دائماً أمام ما هو جديد. نذهل بطاقتها الإبداعية وعلى رغم أننا نعرف النص ونعرف النهاية التي تؤول إليها فإننا نُذهل لأننا نجد أنفسنا أمام ما هو جديد ومفاجئ. كل ما هو في النص موجود على المسرح. كل الحركات وتغيّرات المشهد والمفاجآت موجودة على الخشبة، لكن العمل يوحي للمشاهد والممثل في آن أن ما يحدث وليد اللحظة. وأعتقد أننا نذهل تجاه هذا النص لأن وظيفته الأساسية هو الإبهار وسحب المشاهد إلى لعبة تشبه الهبوط الحلزوني داخل بئر.إنه دوران لا يُعشي البصر بل يوقظ الذهن مُلحاً بملاحقتنا للغز يبدو لنا أننا بُتْنا على وشك من فك رموزه لكنه يفلت منّا في اللحظة الأخيرة. لجوليو بوزيتّي تاريخ قديم مع هذا النص، فقد أدى في مقتبل حياته المسرحية في نهاية الخمسينات دور الابن، وقبل ما يربو على عشرين عاماً أدى دور الأب وفي هذا العرض الذي قدّمه على خشبة مسرح «ديلا بيرغولا» الفلورنسي العريق أدى، إضافة الى قيامه بإخراج العمل، دور الممثل الأول المعروف في تاريخ المسرح الإيطالي بـ «كابو كوميكو». المسرحية تبدو انقلاباً على هيمنة الممثلين الأوائل في الفرق وعلى النصوص الفقيرة التي كانوا يستخدمونها في عروضهم لذا نرى بيرانديللو يوجه نقداً لاذعاً إلى تلك النصوص الواردة من فرنسا، إلاّ أنه، وليُثبّت مبدأ الانقلاب الجديد، لا يستثني نصوصه هو أيضاً. يقول جوليو بوزيتّي «أجل. فمسرحه أيضاً كان يُنجز ويُخرج بالشكل التقليدي وبواقعية مفرطة تغلّف المشاهِد بطبيعية مقززة. في حين أن نصوص بيرانديللو تذهب أبعد من الواقعية الصرفة وتحمل مفردات رمزية وميتافيزيقية. إنها نصوص تواصل العيش على رغم مرور ما يربو على مئة عام على كتابتها وعلى عرضها على المسرح. هي نصوص تمتلك عمقاً وتنوّعاً ورسماً دقيقاً لشخصيات ما يجعل منها نصوصاً كونية. لهذا السبب تجدنا والعالم بأسره نحب بيرانديللو ونواصل تقديمه على مسارحنا لأننا نُدرك أهميته. ويدرك أهميته أيضاً الشباب الذين يملأون المسرح كل ليلة». هذا النص والعمل عبارة عن درس مسرحي. يقول المخرج: «استخدمت الرعد وانقطاع التيار الكهربائي الموقت للإيحاء بأن شيئاً ما كبيراً وقع في تلك اللحظة. ما كان لي أن أُدخل الشخصيات الست إلى المسرح كما كان بيرانديللو نفسه كتب في النص حيث يأتي عامل المسرح ليُخبر المخرج أن أشخاصاً في الخارج يريدون لقاءه. الشخصيات الست ليست أشخاصاً لذا كان عليّ أن أجد وسيلة أكثر إقناعاً لحضورها على الخشبة. كان عليّ أن أعطي إشارة قوية فاستخدمت العاصفة الرعدية المفاجئة. لقد ترسّخ في السنين الأخيرة إظهار حضور الشخصيات الست على الخشبة وكأنها حالة مُتخيّلة وليست واقعية. وقد وجدت خلال السنين حلولاً عديدة لهذا الأمر، المخرج بيتوييف كان الأول في التعامل معه عندما جعل الشخصيات تهبط بمصعد كهربائي من الأعلى، أما أنا فقد أردت استخدام العاصفة الرعدية لأفتح به اللقاء بين الممثلين الاعتياديين والشخصيات. الحدث، كما يبدو واضحاً من المشهد يجري في يوم صيفي لأن الممثلين يرتدون أزياءً صيفية فاتحة الألوان، لكن ينفجر الرعد ويُغيّب التيار الكهربائي لوهلة وعندما يعود الضوء نجد مجموعة الشخصيات في منتصف الخشبة. وبقدر ما تظهر هذه الشخصيات قريبة من الخيال نكون اقتربنا ممّا كان يريده بيرانديللو نفسه». ويختم بوزيتّي حواره معنا «أنا أحب بيرانديللو كثيراً وقبل كل شيء لأنه إيطالي. لا أقول ذلك من منطلقات قومية بحتة بل لأنه جميل أن تُنجز نصاً كُتب بلغتك وولد بها. ليس نصاً مترجماً. الترجمات عادة ما تكون عبارة عن خيانات. أن تُنجز وتمثّل شكسبير، على رغم عظمته، يظل شكسبير الإنكليزي وليس الإيطالي. في حين بيرانديللو، مثل كارلو غولدوني الذي أحبّه كثيراً، يتحدث بلغتنا وهو ما يُعطينا خياراً إيقاعياً للعرض، وأزعم أن ذلك يتحول إلى خيار موسيقي وهذا الأمر في غاية الأهمية. إذ لا يكفي التعمّق في الشخصية وفي مزاياها النفسية وتكويناتها، ضروري كما قلت الخيار الإيقاعي بالضبط مثل سوناتا لبيتهوفن أو باخ...كان بيرانديللو يُعطي، من خلال الكتابة، مؤشرات للممثل وتعليمات للشهقة والتنفّس وكل ذلك بإيقاع موسي |
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#236 |
أكـاديـمـي فـضـي
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رد: last year......old plan group
THE 20TH CENTURY
FROM 1900 TO 1945 The Edwardians The 20th century opened with great hope but also with some apprehension, for the new century marked the final approach to a new millennium. For many, humankind was entering upon an unprecedented era. H.G. Wells’s utopian studies, the aptly titled Anticipations of the Reaction of Mechanical and Scientific Progress upon Human Life and Thought (1901) and A Modern Utopia (1905), both captured and qualified this optimistic mood and gave expression to a common conviction that science and technology would transform the world in the century ahead. To achieve such transformation, outmoded institutions and ideals had to be replaced by ones more suited to the growth and liberation of the human spirit. The death of Queen Victoria in 1901 and the accession of Edward VII seemed to confirm that a franker, less inhibited era had begun. Many writers of the Edwardian period, drawing widely upon the realistic and naturalistic conventions of the 19th century (upon Ibsen in drama and Balzac, Turgenev, Flaubert, Zola, Eliot, and Dickens in fiction) and in tune with the anti-Aestheticism unleashed by the trial of the archetypal Aesthete, Oscar Wilde, saw their task in the new century to be an unashamedly didactic one. In a series of wittily iconoclastic plays, of which Man and Superman (performed 1905, published 1903) and Major Barbara (performed 1905, published 1907) are the most substantial, George Bernard Shaw turned the Edwardian theatre into an arena for debate upon the principal concerns of the day: the question of political organization, the morality of armaments and war, the function of class and of the professions, the validity of the family and of marriage, and the issue of female emancipation. Nor was he alone in this, even if he was alone in the brilliance of his comedy. John Galsworthy made use of the theatre in Strife (1909) to explore the conflict between capital and labour, and in Justice (1910) he lent his support to reform of the penal system, while Harley Granville-Barker, whose revolutionary approach to stage direction did much to change theatrical production in the period, dissected in The Voysey Inheritance (performed 1905, published 1909) and Waste (performed 1907, published 1909) the hypocrisies and deceit of upper-class and professional life. Many Edwardian novelists were similarly eager to explore the shortcomings of English social life. Wells—in Love and Mr. Lewisham (1900); Kipps (1905); Ann Veronica (1909), his pro-suffragist novel; and The History of Mr. Polly (1910)—captured the frustrations of lower- and middle-class existence, even though he relieved his accounts with many comic touches. In Anna of the Five Towns (1902), Arnold Bennett detailed the constrictions of provincial life among the self-made business classes in the area of England known as the Potteries; in The Man of Property (1906), the first volume of The Forsyte Saga, Galsworthy described the destructive possessiveness of the professional bourgeoisie; and, in Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905) and The Longest Journey (1907), E.M. Forster portrayed with irony the insensitivity, self-repression, and philistinism of the English middle classes. These novelists, however, wrote more memorably when they allowed themselves a larger perspective. In The Old Wives’ Tale (1908), Bennett showed the destructive effects of time on the lives of individuals and communities and evoked a quality of pathos that he never matched in his other fiction; in Tono-Bungay (1909), Wells showed the ominous consequences of the uncontrolled developments taking place within a British society still dependent upon the institutions of a long-defunct landed aristocracy; and in Howards End (1910), Forster showed how little the rootless and self-important world of contemporary commerce cared for the more rooted world of culture, although he acknowledged that commerce was a necessary evil. Nevertheless, even as they perceived the difficulties of the present, most Edwardian novelists, like their counterparts in the theatre, held firmly to the belief not only that constructive change was possible but also that this change could in some measure be advanced by their writing. Other writers, including Thomas Hardy and Rudyard Kipling, who had established their reputations during the previous century, and Hilaire Belloc, G.K. Chesterton, and Edward Thomas, who established their reputations in the first decade of the new century, were less confident about the future and sought to revive the traditional forms—the ballad, the narrative poem, the satire, the fantasy, the topographical poem, and the essay—that in their view preserved traditional sentiments and perceptions. The revival of traditional forms in the late 19th and early 20th century was not a unique event. There were many such revivals during the 20th century, and the traditional poetry of A.E. Housman (whose book A Shropshire Lad, originally published in 1896, enjoyed huge popular success during World War I), Walter de la Mare, John Masefield, Robert Graves, and Edmund Blunden represents an important and often neglected strand of English literature in the first half of the century. The most significant writing of the period, traditionalist or modern, was inspired by neither hope nor apprehension but by bleaker feelings that the new century would witness the collapse of a whole civilization. The new century had begun with Great Britain involved in the South African War (the Boer War; 1899–1902), and it seemed to some that the British Empire was as doomed to destruction, both from within and from without, as had been the Roman Empire. In his poems on the South African War, Hardy (whose achievement as a poet in the 20th century rivaled his achievement as a novelist in the 19th) questioned simply and sardonically the human cost of empire building and established a tone and style that many British poets were to use in the course of the century, while Kipling, who had done much to engender pride in empire, began to speak in his verse and short stories of the burden of empire and the tribulations it would bring. View larger image! Boer troops lining up in battle against the British during the South African War (1899–1902). DeA Picture Library No one captured the sense of an imperial civilization in decline more fully or subtly than the expatriate American novelist Henry James. In The Portrait of a Lady (1881), he had briefly anatomized the fatal loss of energy of the English ruling class and, in The Princess Casamassima (1886), had described more directly the various instabilities that threatened its paternalistic rule. He did so with regret: the patrician American admired in the English upper class its sense of moral obligation to the community. By the turn of the century, however, he had noted a disturbing change. In The Spoils of Poynton (1897) and What Maisie Knew (1897), members of the upper class no longer seem troubled by the means adopted to achieve their morally dubious ends. Great Britain had become indistinguishable from the other nations of the Old World, in which an ugly rapacity had never been far from the surface. James’s dismay at this condition gave to his subtle and compressed late fiction, The Wings of the Dove (1902), The Ambassadors (1903), and The Golden Bowl (1904), much of its gravity and air of disenchantment. James’s awareness of crisis affected the very form and style of his writing, for he was no longer assured that the world about which he wrote was either coherent in itself or unambiguously intelligible to its inhabitants. His fiction still presented characters within an identifiable social world, but he found his characters and their world increasingly elusive and enigmatic and his own grasp upon them, as he made clear in The Sacred Fount (1901), the questionable consequence of artistic will. Another expatriate novelist, Joseph Conrad (pseudonym of Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski, born in the Ukraine of Polish parents), shared James’s sense of crisis but attributed it less to the decline of a specific civilization than to human failings. Man was a solitary, romantic creature of will who at any cost imposed his meaning upon the world because he could not endure a world that did not reflect his central place within it. In Almayer’s Folly (1895) and Lord Jim (1900), he had seemed to sympathize with this predicament; but in Heart of Darkness (1902), Nostromo (1904), The Secret Agent (1907), and Under Western Eyes (1911), he detailed such imposition, and the psychological pathologies he increasingly associated with it, without sympathy. He did so as a philosophical novelist whose concern with the mocking limits of human knowledge affected not only the content of his fiction but also its very structure. His writing itself is marked by gaps in the narrative, by narrators who do not fully grasp the significance of the events they are retelling, and by characters who are unable to make themselves understood. James and Conrad used many of the conventions of 19th-century realism but transformed them to express what are considered to be peculiarly 20th-century preoccupations and anxieties. The Modernist revolution Anglo-American Modernism: Pound, Lewis, Lawrence, and Eliot From 1908 to 1914 there was a remarkably productive period of innovation and experiment as novelists and poets undertook, in anthologies and magazines, to challenge the literary conventions not just of the recent past but of the entire post-Romantic era. For a brief moment, London, which up to that point had been culturally one of the dullest of the European capitals, boasted an avant-garde to rival those of Paris, Vienna, and Berlin, even if its leading personality, Ezra Pound, and many of its most notable figures were American. The spirit of Modernism—a radical and utopian spirit stimulated by new ideas in anthropology, psychology, philosophy, political theory, and psychoanalysis—was in the air, expressed rather mutedly by the pastoral and often anti-Modern poets of the Georgian movement (1912–22; see Georgian poetry) and more authentically by the English and American poets of the Imagist movement, to which Pound first drew attention in Ripostes (1912), a volume of his own poetry, and in Des Imagistes (1914), an anthology. Prominent among the Imagists were the English poets T.E. Hulme, F.S. Flint, and Richard Aldington and the Americans Hilda Doolittle (H.D.) and Amy Lowell. Reacting against what they considered to be an exhausted poetic tradition, the Imagists wanted to refine the language of poetry in order to make it a vehicle not for pastoral sentiment or imperialistic rhetoric but for the exact description and evocation of mood. To this end they experimented with free or irregular verse and made the image their principal instrument. In contrast to the leisurely Georgians, they worked with brief and economical forms. Meanwhile, painters and sculptors, grouped together by the painter and writer Wyndham Lewis under the banner of Vorticism, combined the abstract art of the Cubists with the example of the Italian Futurists who conveyed in their painting, sculpture, and literature the new sensations of movement and scale associated with modern developments such as automobiles and airplanes. With the typographically arresting Blast: Review of the Great English Vortex (two editions, 1914 and 1915) Vorticism found its polemical mouthpiece and in Lewis, its editor, its most active propagandist and accomplished literary exponent. His experimental play Enemy of the Stars, published in Blast in 1914, and his experimental novel Tarr (1918) can still surprise with their violent exuberance. View larger image! Ezra Pound, painting by Wyndham Lewis, 1938–39. The Granger Collection, New York World War I brought this first period of the Modernist revolution to an end and, while not destroying its radical and utopian impulse, made the Anglo-American Modernists all too aware of the gulf between their ideals and the chaos of the present. Novelists and poets parodied received forms and styles, in their view made redundant by the immensity and horror of the war, but, as can be seen most clearly in Pound’s angry and satirical Hugh Selwyn Mauberley (1920), with a note of anguish and with the wish that writers might again make form and style the bearers of authentic meanings. In his two most innovative novels, The Rainbow (1915) and Women in Love (1920), D.H. Lawrence traced the sickness of modern civilization—a civilization in his view only too eager to participate in the mass slaughter of the war—to the effects of industrialization upon the human psyche. Yet as he rejected the conventions of the fictional tradition, which he had used to brilliant effect in his deeply felt autobiographical novel of working-class family life, Sons and Lovers (1913), he drew upon myth and symbol to hold out the hope that individual and collective rebirth could come through human intensity and passion. On the other hand, the poet and playwright T.S. Eliot, another American resident in London, in his most innovative poetry, Prufrock and Other Observations (1917) and The Waste Land (1922), traced the sickness of modern civilization—a civilization that, on the evidence of the war, preferred death or death-in-life to life—to the spiritual emptiness and rootlessness of modern existence. As he rejected the conventions of the poetic tradition, Eliot, like Lawrence, drew upon myth and symbol to hold out the hope of individual and collective rebirth, but he differed sharply from Lawrence by supposing that rebirth could come through self-denial and self-abnegation. Even so, their satirical intensity, no less than the seriousness and scope of their analyses of the failings of a civilization that had voluntarily entered upon the First World War, ensured that Lawrence and Eliot became the leading and most authoritative figures of Anglo-American Modernism in England in the whole of the postwar period. During the 1920s Lawrence (who had left England in 1919) and Eliot began to develop viewpoints at odds with the reputations they had established through their early work. In Kangaroo (1923) and The Plumed Serpent (1926), Lawrence revealed the attraction to him of charismatic, masculine leadership, while, in For Lancelot Andrewes: Essays on Style and Order (1928), Eliot (whose influence as a literary critic now rivaled his influence as a poet) announced that he was a “classicist in literature, royalist in politics and anglo-catholic in religion” and committed himself to hierarchy and order. Elitist and paternalistic, they did not, however, adopt the extreme positions of Pound (who left England in 1920 and settled permanently in Italy in 1925) or Lewis. Drawing upon the ideas of the left and of the right, Pound and Lewis dismissed democracy as a sham and argued that economic and ideological manipulation was the dominant factor. For some, the antidemocratic views of the Anglo-American Modernists simply made explicit the reactionary tendencies inherent in the movement from its beginning; for others, they came from a tragic loss of balance occasioned by World War I. This issue is a complex one, and judgments upon the literary merit and political status of Pound’s ambitious but immensely difficult Imagist epic The Cantos (1917–70) and Lewis’s powerful sequence of politico-theological novels The Human Age (The Childermass, 1928; Monstre Gai and Malign Fiesta, both 1955) are sharply divided. Celtic Modernism: Yeats, Joyce, Jones, and MacDiarmid Pound, Lewis, Lawrence, and Eliot were the principal male figures of Anglo-American Modernism, but important contributions also were made by the Irish poet and playwright William Butler Yeats and the Irish novelist James Joyce. By virtue of nationality, residence, and, in Yeats’s case, an unjust reputation as a poet still steeped in Celtic mythology, they had less immediate impact upon the British literary intelligentsia in the late 1910s and early 1920s than Pound, Lewis, Lawrence, and Eliot, although by the mid-1920s their influence had become direct and substantial. Many critics today argue that Yeats’s work as a poet and Joyce’s work as a novelist are the most important Modernist achievements of the period. In his early verse and drama, Yeats, who had been influenced as a young man by the Romantic and Pre-Raphaelite movements, evoked a legendary and supernatural Ireland in language that was often vague and grandiloquent. As an adherent of the cause of Irish nationalism, he had hoped to instill pride in the Irish past. The poetry of The Green Helmet (1910) and Responsibilities (1914), however, was marked not only by a more concrete and colloquial style but also by a growing isolation from the nationalist movement, for Yeats celebrated an aristocratic Ireland epitomized for him by the family and country house of his friend and patron, Lady Gregory. The grandeur of his mature reflective poetry in The Wild Swans at Coole (1917), Michael Robartes and the Dancer (1921), The Tower (1928), and The Winding Stair (1929) derived in large measure from the way in which (caught up by the violent discords of contemporary Irish history) he accepted the fact that his idealized Ireland was illusory. At its best his mature style combined passion and precision with powerful symbol, strong rhythm, and lucid diction; and even though his poetry often touched upon public themes, he never ceased to reflect upon the Romantic themes of creativity, selfhood, and the individual’s relationship to nature, time, and history. Joyce, who spent his adult life on the continent of Europe, expressed in his fiction his sense of the limits and possibilities of the Ireland he had left behind. In his collection of short stories, Dubliners (1914), and his largely autobiographical novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916), he described in fiction at once realist and symbolist the individual cost of the sexual and imaginative oppressiveness of life in Ireland. As if by provocative contrast, his panoramic novel of urban life, Ulysses (1922), was sexually frank and imaginatively profuse. (Copies of the first edition were burned by the New York postal authorities, and British customs officials seized the second edition in 1923.) Employing extraordinary formal and linguistic inventiveness, including the stream-of-consciousness method, Joyce depicted the experiences and the fantasies of various men and women in Dublin on a summer’s day in June 1904. Yet his purpose was not simply documentary, for he drew upon an encyclopaedic range of European literature to stress the rich universality of life buried beneath the provincialism of pre-independence Dublin, in 1904 a city still within the British Empire. In his even more experimental Finnegans Wake (1939), extracts of which had already appeared as Work in Progress from 1928 to 1937, Joyce’s commitment to cultural universality became absolute. By means of a strange, polyglot idiom of puns and portmanteau words, he not only explored the relationship between the conscious and the unconscious but also suggested that the languages and myths of Ireland were interwoven with the languages and myths of many other cultures. The example of Joyce’s experimentalism was followed by the Anglo-Welsh poet David Jones and by the Scottish poet Hugh MacDiarmid (pseudonym of Christopher Murray Grieve). Whereas Jones concerned himself, in his complex and allusive poetry and prose, with the Celtic, Saxon, Roman, and Christian roots of Great Britain, MacDiarmid sought not only to recover what he considered to be an authentically Scottish culture but also to establish, as in his In Memoriam James Joyce (1955), the truly cosmopolitan nature of Celtic consciousness and achievement. MacDiarmid’s masterpiece in the vernacular, A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle (1926), helped to inspire the Scottish renaissance of the 1920s and ’30s. The literature of World War I and the interwar period The impact of World War I upon the Anglo-American Modernists has been noted. In addition the war brought a variety of responses from the more-traditionalist writers, predominantly poets, who saw action. Rupert Brooke caught the idealism of the opening months of the war (and died in service); Siegfried Sassoon and Ivor Gurney caught the mounting anger and sense of waste as the war continued; and Isaac Rosenberg (perhaps the most original of the war poets), Wilfred Owen, and Edmund Blunden not only caught the comradely compassion of the trenches but also addressed themselves to the larger moral perplexities raised by the war (Rosenberg and Owen were killed in action). It was not until the 1930s, however, that much of this poetry became widely known. In the wake of the war the dominant tone, at once cynical and bewildered, was set by Aldous Huxley’s satirical novel Crome Yellow (1921). Drawing upon Lawrence and Eliot, he concerned himself in his novels of ideas—Antic Hay (1923), Those Barren Leaves (1925), and Point Counter Point (1928)—with the fate of the individual in rootless modernity. His pessimistic vision found its most complete expression in the 1930s, however, in his most famous and inventive novel, the anti-utopian fantasy Brave New World (1932), and his account of the anxieties of middle-class intellectuals of the period, Eyeless in Gaza (1936). Huxley’s frank and disillusioned manner was echoed by the dramatist Noël Coward in The Vortex (1924), which established his reputation; by the poet Robert Graves in his autobiography, Good-Bye to All That (1929); and by the poet Richard Aldington in his Death of a Hero (1929), a semiautobiographical novel of prewar bohemian London and the trenches. Exceptions to this dominant mood were found among writers too old to consider themselves, as did Graves and Aldington, members of a betrayed generation. In A Passage to India (1924), E.M. Forster examined the quest for and failure of human understanding among various ethnic and social groups in India under British rule. In Parade’s End (1950; comprising Some Do Not, 1924; No More Parades, 1925; A Man Could Stand Up, 1926; and Last Post, 1928) Ford Madox Ford, with an obvious debt to James and Conrad, examined the demise of aristocratic England in the course of the war, exploring on a larger scale the themes he had treated with brilliant economy in his short novel The Good Soldier (1915). And in Wolf Solent (1929) and A Glastonbury Romance (1932), John Cowper Powys developed an eccentric and highly erotic mysticism. These were, however, writers of an earlier, more confident era. A younger and more contemporary voice belonged to members of the Bloomsbury group. Setting themselves against the humbug and hypocrisy that, they believed, had marked their parents’ generation in upper-class England, they aimed to be uncompromisingly honest in personal and artistic life. In Lytton Strachey’s iconoclastic biographical study Eminent Victorians (1918), this amounted to little more than amusing irreverence, even though Strachey had a profound effect upon the writing of biography; but in the fiction of Virginia Woolf the rewards of this outlook were both profound and moving. In short stories and novels of great delicacy and lyrical power, she set out to portray the limitations of the self, caught as it is in time, and suggested that these could be transcended, if only momentarily, by engagement with another self, a place, or a work of art. This preoccupation not only charged the act of reading and writing with unusual significance but also produced, in To the Lighthouse (1927), The Waves (1931)—perhaps her most inventive and complex novel—and Between the Acts (1941), her most sombre and moving work, some of the most daring fiction produced in the 20th century. Woolf believed that her viewpoint offered an alternative to the destructive egotism of the masculine mind, an egotism that had found its outlet in World War I, but, as she made clear in her long essay A Room of One’s Own (1929), she did not consider this viewpoint to be the unique possession of women. In her fiction she presented men who possessed what she held to be feminine characteristics, a regard for others and an awareness of the multiplicity of experience; but she remained pessimistic about women gaining positions of influence, even though she set out the desirability of this in her feminist study Three Guineas (1938). Together with Joyce, who greatly influenced her Mrs. Dalloway (1925), Woolf transformed the treatment of subjectivity, time, and history in fiction and helped create a feeling among her contemporaries that traditional forms of fiction—with their frequent indifference to the mysterious and inchoate inner life of characters—were no longer adequate. Her eminence as a literary critic and essayist did much to foster an interest in the work of other female Modernist writers of the period, such as Katherine Mansfield (born in New Zealand) and Dorothy Richardson. Indeed, as a result of late 20th-century rereadings of Modernism, scholars now recognize the central importance of women writers to British Modernism, particularly as manifested in the works of Mansfield, Richardson, May Sinclair, Mary Butts, Rebecca West (pseudonym of Cicily Isabel Andrews), Jean Rhys (born in the West Indies), and the American poet Hilda Doolittle (who spent her adult life mainly in England and Switzerland). Sinclair, who produced 24 novels in the course of a prolific literary career, was an active feminist and an advocate of psychical research, including psychoanalysis. These concerns were evident in her most accomplished novels, Mary Olivier: A Life (1919) and Life and Death of Harriett Frean (1922), which explored the ways in which her female characters contributed to their own social and psychological repression. West, whose pen name was based on one of Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen’s female characters, was similarly interested in female self-negation. From her first and greatly underrated novel, The Return of the Soldier (1918), to later novels such as Harriet Hume (1929), she explored how and why middle-class women so tenaciously upheld the division between private and public spheres and helped to sustain the traditional values of the masculine world. West became a highly successful writer on social and political issues—she wrote memorably on the Balkans and on the Nürnberg trials at the end of World War II—but her public acclaim as a journalist obscured during her lifetime her greater achievements as a novelist. In her 13-volume Pilgrimage (the first volume, Pointed Roofs, appeared in 1915; the last, March Moonlight, in 1967), Richardson was far more positive about the capacity of women to realize themselves. She presented events through the mind of her autobiographical persona, Miriam Henderson, describing both the social and economic limitations and the psychological and intellectual possibilities of a young woman without means coming of age with the new century. Other women writers of the period also made major contributions to new kinds of psychological realism. In Bliss and Other Stories (1920) and The Garden Party and Other Stories (1922), Mansfield (who went to England at age 19) revolutionized the short story by rejecting the mechanisms of plot in favour of an impressionistic sense of the flow of experience, punctuated by an arresting moment of insight. In Postures (1928, reprinted as Quartet in 1969), Voyage in the Dark (1934), and Good Morning, Midnight (1939), Rhys depicted the lives of vulnerable women adrift in London and Paris, vulnerable because they were poor and because the words in which they innocently believed—honesty in relationships, fidelity in marriage—proved in practice to be empty. Creating heavily symbolic novels based on the quest-romance, such as Ashe of Rings (1925) and Armed with Madness (1928), Butts explored a more general loss of value in the contemporary wasteland (T.S. Eliot was an obvious influence on her work), while Doolittle (whose reputation rested upon her contribution to the Imagist movement in poetry) used the quest-romance in a series of autobiographical novels—including Paint It Today (written in 1921 but first published in 1992) and Bid Me to Live (1960)—to chart a way through the contemporary world for female characters in search of sustaining, often same-sex relationships. Following the posthumous publication of her strikingly original prose, Doolittle’s reputation was revised and enhanced. The 1930s World War I created a profound sense of crisis in English culture, and this became even more intense with the worldwide economic collapse of the late 1920s and early ’30s, the rise of fascism, the Spanish Civil War (1936–39), and the approach of another full-scale conflict in Europe. It is not surprising, therefore, that much of the writing of the 1930s was bleak and pessimistic: even Evelyn Waugh’s sharp and amusing satire on contemporary England, Vile Bodies (1930), ended with another, more disastrous war. Divisions of class and the burden of sexual repression became common and interrelated themes in the fiction of the 1930s. In his trilogy A Scots Quair (Sunset Song [1932], Cloud Howe [1933], and Grey Granite [1934]), the novelist Lewis Grassic Gibbon (pseudonym of James Leslie Mitchell) gives a panoramic account of Scottish rural and working-class life. The work resembles Lawrence’s novel The Rainbow in its historical sweep and intensity of vision. Walter Greenwood’s Love on the Dole (1933) is a bleak record, in the manner of Bennett, of the economic depression in a northern working-class community; and Graham Greene’s It’s a Battlefield (1934) and Brighton Rock (1938) are desolate studies, in the manner of Conrad, of the loneliness and guilt of men and women trapped in a contemporary England of conflict and decay. A Clergyman’s Daughter (1935) and Keep the Aspidistra Flying (1936), by George Orwell, are evocations—in the manner of Wells and, in the latter case unsuccessfully, of Joyce—of contemporary lower-middle-class existence, and The Road to Wigan Pier (1937) is a report of northern working-class mores. Elizabeth Bowen’s Death of the Heart (1938) is a sardonic analysis, in the manner of James, of contemporary upper-class values. Yet the most characteristic writing of the decade grew out of the determination to supplement the diagnosis of class division and sexual repression with their cure. It was no accident that the poetry of W.H. Auden and his Oxford contemporaries C. Day-Lewis, Louis MacNeice, and Stephen Spender became quickly identified as the authentic voice of the new generation, for it matched despair with defiance. These self-styled prophets of a new world envisaged freedom from the bourgeois order being achieved in various ways. For Day-Lewis and Spender, technology held out particular promise. This, allied to Marxist precepts, would in their view bring an end to poverty and the suffering it caused. For Auden especially, sexual repression was the enemy, and here the writings of Sigmund Freud and D.H. Lawrence were valuable. Whatever their individual preoccupations, these poets produced in the very play of their poetry, with its mastery of different genres, its rapid shifts of tone and mood, and its strange juxtapositions of the colloquial and esoteric, a blend of seriousness and high spirits irresistible to their peers. The adventurousness of the new generation was shown in part by its love of travel (as in Christopher Isherwood’s novels Mr. Norris Changes Trains [1935] and Goodbye to Berlin [1939], which reflect his experiences of postwar Germany), in part by its readiness for political involvement, and in part by its openness to the writing of the avant-garde of the Continent. The verse dramas coauthored by Auden and Isherwood, of which The Ascent of F6 (1936) is the most notable, owed much to Bertolt Brecht; the political parables of Rex Warner, of which The Aerodrome (1941) is the most accomplished, owed much to Franz Kafka; and the complex and often obscure poetry of David Gascoyne and Dylan Thomas owed much to the Surrealists. Even so, Yeats’s mature poetry and Eliot’s Waste Land, with its parodies, its satirical edge, its multiplicity of styles, and its quest for spiritual renewal, provided the most significant models and inspiration for the young writers of the period. The writing of the interwar period had great breadth and diversity, from Modernist experimentation to new documentary modes of realism and from art as propaganda (particularly in the theatre) to conventional fiction, drama, and poetry produced for the popular market. Two trends stand out: first, the impact of film on the writing of the decade, not least on styles of visual realization and dialogue, and, second, the ubiquitous preoccupation with questions of time, on the psychological, historical, and even cosmological levels. As the world became less stable, writers sought both to reflect this and to seek some more-fundamental grounding than that provided by contemporary circumstances. The literature of World War II (1939–45) The outbreak of war in 1939, as in 1914, brought to an end an era of great intellectual and creative exuberance. Individuals were dispersed; the rationing of paper affected the production of magazines and books; and the poem and the short story, convenient forms for men under arms, became the favoured means of literary expression. It was hardly a time for new beginnings, although the poets of the New Apocalypse movement produced three anthologies (1940–45) inspired by Neoromantic anarchism. No important new novelists or playwrights appeared. In fact, the best fiction about wartime—Evelyn Waugh’s Put Out More Flags (1942), Henry Green’s Caught (1943), James Hanley’s No Directions (1943), Patrick Hamilton’s The Slaves of Solitude (1947), and Elizabeth Bowen’s The Heat of the Day (1949)—was produced by established writers. Only three new poets (all of whom died on active service) showed promise: Alun Lewis, Sidney Keyes, and Keith Douglas, the latter the most gifted and distinctive, whose eerily detached accounts of the battlefield revealed a poet of potential greatness. Lewis’s haunting short stories about the lives of officers and enlisted men are also works of very great accomplishment. It was a poet of an earlier generation, T.S. Eliot, who produced in his Four Quartets (1935–42; published as a whole, 1943) the masterpiece of the war. Reflecting upon language, time, and history, he searched, in the three quartets written during the war, for moral and religious significance in the midst of destruction and strove to counter the spirit of nationalism inevitably present in a nation at war. The creativity that had seemed to end with the tortured religious poetry and verse drama of the 1920s and ’30s had a rich and extraordinary late flowering as Eliot concerned himself, on the scale of The Waste Land but in a very different manner and mood, with the well-being of the society in which he lived. LITERATURE AFTER 1945 Increased attachment to religion most immediately characterized literature after World War II. This was particularly perceptible in authors who had already established themselves before the war. W.H. Auden turned from Marxist politics to Christian commitment, expressed in poems that attractively combine classical form with vernacular relaxedness. Christian belief suffused the verse plays of T.S. Eliot and Christopher Fry. While Graham Greene continued the powerful merging of thriller plots with studies of moral and psychological ambiguity that he had developed through the 1930s, his Roman Catholicism loomed especially large in novels such as The Heart of the Matter (1948) and The End of the Affair (1951). Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited (1945) and his Sword of Honour trilogy (1965; published separately as Men at Arms [1952], Officers and Gentlemen [1955], and Unconditional Surrender [1961]) venerate Roman Catholicism as the repository of values seen as under threat from the advance of democracy. Less-traditional spiritual solace was found in Eastern mysticism by Aldous Huxley and Christopher Isherwood and by Robert Graves, who maintained an impressive output of taut, graceful lyric poetry behind which lay the creed he expressed in The White Goddess (1948), a matriarchal mythology revering the female principle |
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#237 |
أكـاديـمـي فـضـي
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رد: last year......old plan group
هذا اللي وصلني من قروب الدكتوره
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التعديل الأخير تم بواسطة Miss.LoLo ; 2012- 9- 15 الساعة 07:11 PM |
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#238 |
أكـاديـمـي فـعّـال
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رد: last year......old plan group
ايش اسم مسرحية دراما
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#239 |
أكـاديـمـي ألـمـاسـي
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رد: last year......old plan group
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#240 |
أكـاديـمـي فـعّـال
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رد: last year......old plan group
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هههههههه حبيبتي ![]() طيب نحضر كل المسرحيات حق بكرا ؟ ![]() |
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