Dickinson College Humanities Program in Norwich

I must admit that I had high expectations for the National Gallery, but from the majority of paintings I saw I can say that my expectations were not met.  Monet and his impressionism simply had no affect on me.  His work just seemed very dull/boring.  In Pitmen Painters it was said that art itself doesn’t have an affect on someone, but it is the relationship between that person and a particular piece of artwork which creates meaning.  However, I had no connection with Monet in any of his works; there was just aesthetic value in it.

This lack of feeling was not just with works of Monet.  Paul Cezanne’s “An Old Woman with a Rosary” tried to show despair and a need for help.  But staring at it, I could see or feel any of that.  It was just a portrait of an old woman to me.  Cornelis van Haarlem’s “Two Followers of Cadmus devoured by a Dragon,” though graphic, seemed like something I would see in a fantasy novel.

However, there were two paintings in particular I enjoyed quite a bit.  Both dealt with the concept of “memento mori” (Latin: “Remember you are mortal.”)  The first was Frans Hals’ “Young Man holding a Skull.”  The name of the painting is self-explanatory as to what it shows, but if you dig deeper you can see it as a “reminder of the transience of life and the certainty of death.”  It was simple and to the point; the reminder is hauntingly felt.  The second piece was Jan Jansz. Treck’s “Vanitas Still Life.”  The painting was “intended to cause the viewer to reflect on the inevitability of mortality and the consequent foolishness of all human ambition.”  It succeeded very well in accomplishing this objective.  In the painting itself, a skull is used to represent death, an hourglass is used to represent time, a helmet to represent war/death, musical instruments, a pipe and other items used to represent the joys of living.  What I found most interesting regarding the piece was a title-page of a play entitled “Evil is its own reward.”  It was the title of the play which caught me off guard as I wasn’t sure what Treck meant by it.  Of course (as Pitmen Painters pointed out), it only matters what I think it means and not what he intended it to mean.

I am sure the concept of memento mori does not sit well with many people.  After all, who likes to think about death, especially your own death?  People tend to avoid thinking about death because they see it as a life-denying force; you cannot enjoy the things in life if you are dead.  Treck’s “Vanitas Still Life” wants to show how every action we take is idiotic since we all die in the end (a concept related to memento mori); and it is very easy to see life as pointless in that light.  Such a bleak and dark picture is life-denying.  Yet memento mori can be seen in another light.  Being reminded of one’s own mortality is not a life-denying force, but a life-affirming one.  Think of the translated phrase itself: Remember you are mortal.  It is a reminder that you will die; it’s inevitable and there is nothing you can do about it.  So why worry about dying?  Everyday people see themselves as how they would like to be, how they wish they did this or that, how they wish that could say this or that to someone.  Memento mori is a concept telling you to act, to live and to do what you want because of the FACT that you are going to die; you only have one life so truly appreciate it by actually living and do not hold yourself back.  It’s not worth it to pretend that you can’t do this or that when the only thing really stopping you from acting is you.  So the next time you get worried about something silly just remember memento mori.  Getting a bad grade, starting a conversation with someone at the bar, bumming a cigarette, whatever it is that you worry about just remember that in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t really matter…so why not act?

     My idea of the “perfect public house” is not one with a fireplace (this is, clearly, a safety hazard) or China mugs or different bars (this is, clearly, a social hazard). My ideal pub is by no means quiet and I can always order dinner there (but one must consider that, on a student’s stipend, “dinner” oftentimes means “chips”).

     Like George Orwell, I have yet to stumble across my own “perfect pub,” but I’ve come close. The Court, located on Tottenham Court Road, has the atmosphere I’m after. The music is loud, and usually American, but encourages no dancing (Andrew Russell and Megan Liberty – who will dance anywhere – are excluded). Customers stand out on the corner with pints and fags in hand, puffing and sipping away and enjoying the views of the bustling city that closes around 7 on a Saturday night.

     Note: When in Londinium… talk to strangers in pubs. Bum a light or ask or just strike up conversations. You’ll find that “pissed” Londoners are generally much more amicable than sober ones (unless football is on, in which case you should avoid the pub scene entirely if you value your life). You’ll meet people like Pete – an unnaturally animated world-traveler with no regard for personal space – or Mikey – the green-clad, leprechaun hat-wearing music student who holds a stuffed duck (plush, not real) and finds endless amusement at squawking it in your ear.   

     Though The Court has the atmosphere, the people, and the music that I’m looking for, the food at The Marlborough Arms is superior, and their White Zinfandel is 25 pence cheaper. For the health-freak, vegetarian foodie, ordering the Meze platter at the Marlborough Arms is a must. For roughly 8 quid, you can sample: greek olives; warm, seasoned pita bread with oil and aged balsamic vinegar; marinated artichoke hearts; feta cheese; roasted red peppers and; an amazingly smooth hummous sprinkled with pine nuts. Not exactly the classic bar food one might be used to.

     The history of the Museum Tavern pub, however, trumps all others. It is not a particularly memorable pub, though the Strongbow is good (but then, where isn’t the Strongbow good in the UK?) The atmosphere is dull, there is no music and no one speaks much louder than a completely inaudible whisper (Note: Loud Americans will receive dirty looks), but, alas, it is here that Karl Marx wrote his Communist Manifesto.

     So if you find yourself in London again, or perhaps for the first time, do go out and experience the pub scene for yourself. It is an integral element of British culture, and a valuable source of entertainment, Squawking ducks, leprechaun hats and Andrew Russell’s dancing included.

This summer I went to my local bookstore to pick up some of the summer reading for this course. I also decided to splurge on some travel essays and one very large guidebook. One of the books that caught my eye was Kate Fox’s Watching the English. In this tome of valuable information, Fox breaks down the hidden rules of English behavior…everything from food rules to dress code. Fox is not only an anthropologist, but also an English woman and her ability to laugh at herself and her people make her observations both accurate and amusing. I was laughing the entire time I was reading. The way she writes is so witty and entertaining that I found myself both apprehensive and even more excited to come to London. How was I going to survive in a place where it was not socially acceptable to smile at strangers as I walked down the street? I was also particularly worried about my laughter. As most of you now know, when I find something funny, I will laugh… loudly and for a long time. I can’t control it. I was worried everyone in England was going to think I was just the stupid American who is always loud. More about that later…Fox concludes that all these behavior rules revolve around class. You do things the way you do because of your class, plain and simple.

One of the most fascinating aspects of this theory has to do with language. I’m sure most of us have noticed that even though we are in England, there is not one generic English accent. And, according to Fox, “one cannot even talk at all without immediately revealing one’s own social class.” The indicators are in both the pronunciations and word choice. I’ll elaborate on one of my favorites…. ‘Pardon.’ The English apologize for everything, even if it’s not their fault. If you bump into an English person on the street, they will probably apologize anyway. However, the word they use is an immediate indicator of their class. A lower-middle of middle-middle person will say ‘pardon.’ A upper middle will say ‘sorry-what?’ and an upper class person will simply say ‘what?’ Ironically the same response of ‘what?’ is also used by the working class, although they may drop the ‘t’ to make it ‘wha-‘

So, we have leaned that speech is the most immediate and most obvious way to place a person within your class GPS system. In Lee Hall’s The Pitmen Painters, one of the first interactions between Mr. Lyons and the group of pitmen involved differences in speech. Mr. Lyons could not understand their thick accents and different pronunciations. Obviously Mr. Lyons was speaking what is commonly known as “Oxford English” whereas the pitmen were speaking in their own regional dialect. The Ashington group was a group of brilliant artists who just happened to be pitmen. But the people around them would often jump to conclusions when meeting them due to their speech. In Blood Brothers twins Mickey and Eddie were split up at birth and raised apart. Mickey remained with his biological mother in a working class environment. Edward (Eddie) was raised by the upper class Lyon family. Mickey points out the language differences from the first time he speaks with his brother by making fun of Eddie for his ‘posh’ phrases like “shag the vicar” and “smashing.” It’s the little details reveal the most about class differences. Although the brothers were great friend in their youth, it was the struggle between their classes that eventually led to tragic downfall. Your accent and speech does not reveal anything about your accomplishments but it does place you somewhere on that class scale. In a nation where verbal culture is prized over any sort of palpable or physical expression, language is the primary tool for recognizing social status.

The one place where all these class rules are put on ‘hold’ (well, I’ll let you decide) is the pub. The pub is a place with its own customs and is the main place of social bonding. Like in most cultures, the drinking-place tends to be socially equal or at least the differences are based on separate rules from the rest of society. Therefore, the pub is not really place of social or class equality, but the class differences are judged differently or are suspended whilst inside the pub. Only the English would have a completely different set of behavior rules specifically for the pub. I can’t believe these people sometimes. In a striking contradiction the rest of England, the pub is one of the few places where you can start a conversation with a complete stranger…as long as you’re not too forward and ask their name. This rule only applies at the bar counter and the fact that you go to the bar to order food and drink (rather than having someone come to your table) forces one to be social. It just keeps getting more and more strange. The art of queuing is quintessentially English. Always respect the queue, at the store, at the tube stop, wherever. But in the pub this rule changes. Instead of the usual neat and orderly structure, the thirsty pub goes all hang around the counter. This is what Kate Fox calls the “invisible queue,” where both the publicans and the customers know their positions in the waiting line. Everyone knows who is next and if you try and get service before your turn, the bar staff will ignore you the rest of your stay. One evening last week was a part of a group who decided to grab a drink at The Court, a local pub on Tottenham Court Road.  We accidentally placed ourselves outside the range of the invisible queue to disastrous consequences. Not only were we yelled at in front of the entire pub, it was hard to get service the rest of the night.

That aside, I have had a great time every time I go to a pub. It’s a great place to people watch (one of my favorite pastimes) and see the rare interactions between the English. Of course, all pubs are not created equal. I will agree with my classmates that The Court caters to a younger crowd and is the kind of place where our American volume is somewhat more acceptable, whereas the Marlborough Arms is great place to grab a meal and to catch up with your fiends. Nothing against pubs like The Court, but I prefer places where I can sit down and not have to yell across the table to be heard. I guess that’s my inner 60-year-old woman talking. Besides, the chicken and leek pie on Sunday nights at the Arms is fantastic! Pub culture is a valuable part of life in England, and most people have found a pub that really fits their personality or lifestyle. You can lean a lot about the English by observing what goes on in a pub, and at the same time, you have to leave the pub to fully understand the culture. This place is full of contradictions. While I am yet to become a ‘regular,’ I hope I can investigate more of this strange phenomenon of the England when I get to Norwich… I might even find a football team to support.

To recap, everything is about class. Each social class has identifying elements that place one in a certain class. Don’t say ‘pardon’, avoid using fancy French words like serviette, and mind the invisible queue at pubs. We will all be reading Watching the English once we get to Norwich so now you all have something to look forward to. Keep an eye out for these hidden behaviors. I find it all quite fascinating. Also, if anyone feels like pie tonight, meet me at the Arms.

It’s taken me a while to formulate my thought about religion and identity, but I think I can finally say something on the topic.

Sikhism and Hinduism are fairly new to the UK, as Sikhs began immigrating overseas in the 1950s, after the liberation of British India (1947) and the division of Muslim Pakistan from Hindu India (this division cause fighting in the Punjab region between Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs). According to the BBC, while Hindus also began immigrating in the 1950s, Hindu immigration particularly increased in the 1970s when Indians were forced to leave many newly independent African countries, such as Kenya and Uganda. In London, these groups settled into lower class areas, such as the East End where immigrants have traditionally lived since the Huguenots. As we learned from Salaam Brick Lane and Brick Lane, this area often suffers from racial tension and violence (though the neighborhood has been gentrified a bit since Tarquin Hall’s days on Brick Lane).

If our visits to the Southall Sikh Gurdwara and the Sri Swaminarayan Mandir in Neasden proved to me one thing, it is that Sikhs and Hindus are clearly still seeking to find their place in the larger London society. Each place of worship we visited had numerous pamphlets and other resources for learning about their religion. Within these pamphlets (and of course the exhibition on “Understanding Hinduism”), both religions cited famous white guys praising the peacefulness of the corresponding religion. I don’t mean that sentence to sound as cynical as it might seem, but it just appeared to me that the institutions were really trying very hard to find a way to convince outsiders not to fear what is different. However, instead of simply informing visitors of their beliefs and practices, it was found necessary to justify these beliefs and practices with a white man’s approval. The most blatant example of this can be found in the “Understanding Hinduism” exhibition at the Mandir. In the section, “Hinduism for the individual,” the exhibition reads: “Hinduism, through its heroes and history, relays the real values of life. As George Bernard Shaw confirmed…” This statement raised a few questions in my mind. Most importantly: What makes George Bernard Shaw the authority on the “real values of life?” Shaw was famous for many things, but I’m fairly certain an expertise on Hinduism is not one of them. I would much rather hear the Hindus’ or the Sikhs’ own views on their religions, as I did not feel such justifications helped me to learn.

I would also like to comment on an observation made by many classmates in blogs and conversation about the relative modesty of the gurdwara when compared to the highly decorated mandir. In any religion the size and intricacy of a building of worship is determined by the community in which it is built and the amount of funding available. I’m sure none of the churches in our neighborhoods compares to St. Paul’s or St. Peter’s. In the same vein, the gurdwara we visited doesn’t compare to the Harmandir Sahib. The mandir in Neasden is much grander than mandir near my house in Somerset, NJ. The places we saw were single examples of larger religions and we must be careful when making observations about the religions as a whole.

Whenever I’m given a difficult topic to write about I try to go back to the basics. What is identity? According to Merriam-Webster, identity is the “sameness of essential or generic character in different instances” or “the distinguishing character or personality of an individual.” So, how can this be applied to immigrants in England?

In the various immigrant neighborhoods we have visited, it is clear that the communities are attempting to maintain some sort of “sameness of essential or generic character.” They built religious institutions, opened shops and restaurants, and created a small community that is similar to their home. In other ways, the community’s identity is forced to change when it moves to a new country. The environment is different. Ways of dress could change. New languages are learned in order to get jobs and communicate with others. A new country presents many challenges for an immigrant group and at some point something has to give, and not everything can stay exactly the same.

On an individual level, it’s much more difficult to generalize how one’s “distinguishing character or personality” is challenged by immigration. As we learned from Brick Lane, many times a person’s values can be completely transformed. When Nazneen first comes to England, all she wants is to return to Bangladesh and she never speaks out against her husband. By the end of the novel, she refuses to return with him. We’ve also learned about some of the challenges faced by second-generation immigrants. Magid, Millat, and Irie are caught between two worlds: their parents’ expectations for them and their own society. The ease of adaptation is also affected by economic status. Doctors and grad students face different challenges than do poorer people forced to live in violent neighborhoods.

When someone asks me “where is a good pub?” I have a hard time responding. What exactly is a good pub? Each and every one brings something different to the table that makes it unique and appeal to a certain crowd. I will explain this simply by comparing and contrasting three of the places I frequented the most within the vicinity of the Arran House.

The “Marlborough Arms”, located just a minute from the Arran House was an extremely convenient place to go for the first few days here. After visiting a few other places I quickly learned that the Arms is best suited as a great place to grab a meal with friends (preferably on a weekday) since it features a complete traditional pub menu and ample seating. The bartenders there are friendly and welcoming and even make the effort to card people once in a while.  

“The Court”, located on Tottenham Court road and about a five minute walk from the Arran House features a completely different atmosphere. If you’re looking to get a full dinner this is not the place to go. With a setup more like a college bar The Court is two floors with a decent amount of space to sit both inside and outside. Open late every night of the week the Court draws in a large crowd regardless of the evening. The jukebox is always blaring with pop and rock music and there are pool tables upstairs for anyone who’s feeling ambitious. The major draws for “The Court” are that the drinks are a bit cheaper overall and it draws in a younger crowd. While the average age at the Marlborough Arms was usually between 30 and 40 The Court drew in a mostly 18-28 crowd. This makes sense since it is located just a block away from The University of London. 

Another place I frequented was called the “Bricklayers Arms”. Located just two blocks past Goodge Street Station and a block down Rathburn Street, I had gotten recommendations over and over again about the B.A. from people who had studied in London in the past. I soon learned that the major draw of the Bricklayers is twofold. One: it features the cheapest pints of ale around (2 pounds) and two: it serves Samuel Smith’s which is nearly impossible to find. Much like The Court, the Bricklayers Arms is not the place to go if you want a full dinner. It is also not the place to go if you want something besides ale since the selection is more limited than other pubs and  isn’t really worth the price otherwise. 

To connect my experience in London with George Orwell’s essay “The Moon Under Water” I appreciate that Orwell has his own criteria of what makes a good pub. Although I do not particularly agree with him in every case I like that he knows exactly what he’s looking for. Although I have some idea of what I like in a pub I will need to do much more exploring to find what exactly my tastes are. As Orwell so elegantly puts it: “I know pubs where the beer is good but you can’t get meals, others where you can get meals but are noisy and crowded, and others which are quiet but where the beer is generally sour.” This explains why there are so many pubs and why they all stay in business. I suppose like a man or woman there is a perfect pub out there for everyone too. Here in London we are all on a constant journey to find our own “Moon Under Water”.

Throughout our time in London, we have been fortunate enough to go to a large variety of shows.  Some of been concerts, including a stint at the Proms, a free Watch This Space African-fusion band, and the Phantasm piece we heard in the Church of Saint-Martin-in-the-Fields, but we have also seen Shakespearian plays, 20th century works, and now a musical.  Despite all of these experiences, many of which I have blogged about previously, I think that the two most recent works we saw, The Pitmen Painters and Blood Brothers, have the most similarities and differences between them.

The first was the Pitmen Painters, a wonderful tale that explored the meaning of art and what art is to each and every individual.  What I really enjoyed about this particular play was the brilliant characterization of the pitmen by both Lee Hall, the writer, and the actors.  Through the progression of time, the characters managed to go from knowing practically nothing about art to appreciating the outlet that art is offering them in their daily lives.  In one part of the play, Oliver has an epiphany that makes him realize that the art class he was taking could allow him to do bigger and brighter things outside of the small mining town he has lived in for his entire life.  Despite the fact that nothing really ends up coming from this for Oliver, this realization, and his turning down of a possible patroness earlier in the play,  come back to haunt him when he realizes what he could have been if his circumstances and social class had been different.

The second was Blood Brothers, a rather mediocre story that explored the lives of twin brothers separated at birth and how they grow up in very different social circumstances.  The first main issue I had with Blood Brothers was that the sound was off the entire show.  I have a music background and I adore musical theatre, so it really bugs me when a professional theatre puts on a show, let alone a musical, and the sound is off for the whole performance.  That was one major strike against them.  The second issue I had wasn’t as much with the performance of the show, but the show itself.  Though I can tolerate her, I am not a big Marilyn Monroe fan.  Why, oh why, was she a reoccurring theme of the show?  There was not only a song titled Marilyn Monroe, but also three reprises attempting to tie the blond actress to the circumstances of the Johnston and Lyon families.  If this musical was a paper being graded, the links between the families and Monroe would not stand up for any professor or high school teacher I have ever met. 

Why, oh why, Marilyn Monroe???

The main thing that these two shows have in common (other than a character named Mr Lyons) is the exploration of problems between social classes.  In the Pitmen Painters I got the sense that the miners want to take an art appreciation class in order to get an idea of what the higher classes spend their copious amount of time and money being patron to.  This juxtaposition between the high class art and the working class pitmen is a reoccurring theme.  Throughout the play the discomfort of the pitmenin noble homes and art galleries is evident because they feel that they are not worthy of being in these elegant spaces.  Although the sentiment is similar in Blood Brothers, the comparison of social classes comes on a much different scale.  From the beginning there is a clear-cut comparison between the dingy home of Mrs Johnston and all of her children with the elegant and cleanly-kept Lyons home.  As the show progresses and Mickey and Eddie become the focus as young children, the lines between social classes are blurred slightly for them.  Both Eddie and Mickey know that they aren’t supposed to go to the other’s part of the neighborhood, but they act as children do, playing games and going on adventures.  By the end of the show, the divisions between the twins become even more evident.  Mickey is laid off because of cuts at the factory, while Eddie brings home friends from college in order to have a massive New Year’s party.  From this point on, social class is the most important factor in the show.  In many ways, both boys end up dead in the end because of the constraints put on them by social class.

Mostly people go to pubs because of a certain atmosphere, good service, good ale, etc. But why I really like pubs is because of their diverse, and often strange, names. Within walking distance of the hotel we have a few pubs with names such as The Court, The Brick Layer and Marlborough Arms. Stopping at the Brick Layer’s Arms pub the other day got me wondering about pub names in general.

After reading an article from the London Times it gave me more insight into the meaning of these names. More than just leaving you to question if these places serve bodily parts, these names tell about the history involved with the place. The Times listed the five most used pub names as of 2007 which were: The Red Lion (759); The Royal Oak (626); The White Hart (427); The Rose and Crown (326) and The King’s Head (310). After reading further into my post, you’ll learn probably why a few of these names are so common.

Some pub names are sometimes easy to figure out, for they often have religious, political, heraldic, personal, occupational or sporting names. A religious sign might have objects such as a lamb and flag (representing Christ and the Christian flag). Many decided to show allegiance to the monarchy and have names such as The King’s Head (or Arms) or The Crown. Nearby to the hotel, The Brick Layer’s Arms pub was probably named such because of the trade that went on in that area. Also close by there is a pub named The Marquis of Granby, which I learned with a quick search that many pubs were named after this man. Apparently John Manners, the Marquis of Granby, was a general in the 18th century who looked out for the welfare of men upon their retirement and established funds for the creation of taverns, thus why many are named after him.

The sign though is the beacon of the pub, and a way to attract its visitors to it. For those who could not read, the picture was how they often distinguished one pub from another. The Times states, “before the widespread use of signs, pubs would hang a recognizable object, such as a boot or a bent branch, which became known as a crooked billet.” Another website on local British history, Britain Express, http://www.britainexpress.com/History/culture/pub-names.htm
remarks that this practice originated in Roman times where they would hang vine leaves outside to distinguish the place as a tavern.

Pubs are not just a place to eat or drink, they each tell a story about the history of England and their location. They can also tell about the politics or the status of the place and the owner. So the next time that you decided to go drinking or dining at a local pub, perhaps take a moment and consider about the meaning behind the sign. Perhaps after you figure out its past (potentially dark) and you may decided you might not want to stop there for a drink!