K. Morris's Blog, page 834
March 26, 2013
There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so
Are certain pleasures in life intrinsically more valuable than others? Is the person who derives pleasure from watching Coronation Street (a British soap opera) but finds nothing which speaks to him in Shakespeare correct when he voices his opinion that soaps possess greater value for him than the Bard’s work due to Coronation Street arousing feelings of enjoyment not aroused by Shakespeare?
Yesterday evening, on the way home from the office I popped into my favourite pub for a pint or two. While there I fell into conversation with an acquaintance. Our discussion ranged far and wide. At one point during our conversation my acquaintance voiced the opinion that a child’s drawing may possess more value than works of art hanging in art galleries and on the walls of rich collectors. Let us leave aside whether the child in question is a budding artist with great talent and assume instead that his picture is a mere scrawl or a mediocre drawing. In such an instance the picture may (and often is) greatly treasured by the child’s parents as being a product of their son or daughter’s artistic efforts. Those unacquainted with the girl or boy in question may not give his creation a second glance but to the loving parents it possesses sentimental importance (they may keep the drawing for years taking it out of a drawer to look at from time to time).
The love of a parent for their children is a precious and beautiful thing, however we can not allow a parents biased view of their child’s talents to determine what constitutes great art. We would not, for example permit the parents of one child to judge the creations of children unrelated to them if the competition included pictures produced by the judge’s own children! The judge might be able to put aside his natural desire to favour his child but even so we would, quite rightly determine that it was inappropriate for him to sit in judgement in a competition featuring pictures produced by his offspring.
Let us broaden the debate and return to the person who obtains greater pleasure from watching soap operas than he derives from Shakespeare. We may disagree with the lover of soap operas and contend (as I do) that Shakespeare is more valuable in that his works portray humanity in all it’s rich diversity, however we can not argue against the fact that for the given individual Coronation Street possesses more value than the works of the bard. However while accepting that the lover of soap operas holds the subjective opinion that Coronation Street is more valuable than Shakespeare we can, by standing back and taking the broader perspective vigorously defend the concept of great art and literature.
Shakespeare’s plays have remained popular since they where first performed in Elizabethan times. The issues addressed by Shakespeare remain as relevant today as when the plays where first written. For example take Macbeth’s musings on ambition
“I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself,
And falls on th’other.”
Many a despot has been driven and continues to be propelled by “vaulting ambition”. Wonderful writing which can not be compared to the happenings in Coranation Street. Again Hamlet’s “To be or not to be, that is the question” soliloquy is arguably one of the greatest meditations on the subject of suicide ever written:
To be, or not “to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s Contumely,
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action.”
Doubtless in future centuries historians will study soap operas to understand popular culture and some will continue to find such soaps entertaining, however it will be Shakespeare and Dickens who retain their positions centre stage not soap operas or mindless “reality” shows in which the boyfriend of a girl who has slept with his (the boy’s father) shouts insults at his partner for the entertainment of the studio audience and the viewer. We no longer have the spectacle of hapless victims being thrown to the lions. It has been replaced by ill educated people who want their paltry 5 minutes of fame strutting and threating their hour upon the stage and, once over to be heard from no more. This is entertainment of a sort but it is not great art or literature, perish the thought.
March 24, 2013
By the pricking of my thumbs something wicked this way comes
As a child I attended several boarding schools for blind children. During this time I shared a number of dormatories with boys most of who’s names I can still remember! The first dormitory I can recollect had wooden floors with only small mats by each bed onto which we boys could step when dressing or undressing. Despite the huge old radiators my memory is of shivering with cold while dressing in the frosty winter mornings. Oh happy days!
Being boys we regailed one another with all kinds of stories after the lights had been switched off and we should have been in the land of dreams. Among these where stories of ghosts and ghouls. I well remember some clever soul (I think it may have been me but I can’t be sure at this distance in time) regailing his fellow dorm dwellers with a story of a boy who returned from the toilet only to find that the school had been boarded up and that he was trapped inside the building with all kinds of ghosts and ghouls. All this story telling was fine until one of us wanted to leave the room to use the toilet only to find ourselves scared half to death to go alone. What ghastly creatures lurked in the passage outside our dormitory god only knew!
I believe that my interest in ghost stories stems from my early school days. Even now I can feel cold shivers run down my spine when I read or hear a ghost story.
I am an agnostic and keep an open mind as to whether anything beyond the purely material world exists. However, irrespective of whether god or something god-like exists I continue to find ghost stories a great source of enjoyment.
Thus far I have written one ghost story, There are More Things in Heaven and Earth (http://newauthoronline.com/2013/03/17/there-are-more-things-in-heaven-and-earth/). In the story Michael,a devout atheist (now theirs a contradiction in terms if ever there was one) decides to sleep in the chamber of an old house in which a Victorian serving maid hanged herself. The result is tragic with Michael being found dead the following day.
The story suggests that Michael saw something unspeakable which brought on a massive heart attack. However the sceptic will no doubt argue that people can work themselves up to such a state of fear and/or excitement that they bring about their own demise. The imagination is an extremely powerful thing and I can recollect lying in bed at school listening to creaking floor boards and cooling pipes and being at least half convinced that unearthly forces where abroad.
I’m off to bed now to dream what I hope will be dreams lacking in ghosts and ghouls!
Kevin
Exploitation?
Among the arguments advanced by those who believe prostitution should be prohibited is that it constitutes the exploitation of women and men by those who purchase sex. According to this perspective no one would voluntarily choose to sell their body,consequently prostitution is conflated with sex slavery. In some countries this has given rise to a ban on the selling of sexual services (although of course prostitution still persists) while in other nations, for example Sweden the selling of sex remains legal while the purchasers are subject to a fine and/or imprisonment. Underlying the Swedish Law on Prostitution is the view that those who purchase sex have no right to buy the bodies of prostituted persons. The prostitute is the victim so should not be punished while the sex buyer who is fueling the industry must be deterred by criminal sanctions.
As a writer I am interested in the subject of prostitution. My latest book, Samantha (http://www.amazon.com/Samantha-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1364109422&sr=8-2&keywords=samantha+k+morris) tells the story of a young girl forced into the sex industry in Liverpool (a city in the north-west of England). Sam is drugged, compelled to participate in sex acts and then blackmailed into becoming a sex worker. Consequently Sam’s experience fits into the view of prostitution as the exploitation of the prostitute by selfish pimps and sex buyers. Sam’s experience is horrendous and her pimp, Barry richly deserves his grizly end, however Samantha’s experience of prostitution should not be taken as constituting the experiences of all sex workers.
In my story, The First Time (http://www.amazon.com/The-First-Time-ebook/dp/B00AIK0DD6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1364111659&sr=8-2&keywords=the+first+time+kevin+morris) we meet Becky a young graduate with a degree in English literature who enters the world of prostitution, as a professional escort in order to clear a credit card debt. Unlike Sam Becky’s entry into prostitution is a choice (there is no pimp to use and abuse her, only her fellow escort and friend, Julie who tries to discourage Becky from becoming a prostitute). Is Becky exploited by her clients? Becky visits her client’s of her own free will. She doesn’t want to have sex with her first customer, Mike. She wants to return the money and leave. However Becky chooses not to do so due to her need for cash. At no point during her encounter with Mike is Becky threatened in any way, indeed Mike offers her wine and knowing that it is her first time does his best to put Becky at ease.
The First Time does not gloss over the emotional and psychological effects of prostitution. Becky gets drunk in order to cope with her first encounter with a client. After the appointment she is violently ill from a combination of over indulgence in alcohol but, more importantly as a result of her feeling of worthlessness. She feels that she is “not a mere receptacle for men to pour themselves into”, but despite this she is minded to continue as a prostitute until her debts are cleared.
Becky is a free agent who chooses her path in life. One may (and certainly should) have sympathy for Becky however, in the final analysis responsibility for her situation (unlike with Samantha) rests with Becky. Mike does not exploit her. Becky is an adult and makes a conscious decision to enter sex work. Her dire financial position places great pressure on Becky to obtain money fast, however other people in similar positions do not make the same choices as Becky.
In my short story, Rent (http://newauthoronline.com/2013/03/15/rent/) Leah becomes the mistress of a wealthy stockbroker in order to escape from her life of poverty on a rough council estate in East London’s Tower Hamlets. On one level Leah’s rich partner is exploiting her as he knows that she only stays with him due to the financial stability which he can provide. He feeds Leah money as a drug pusher feeds an addict drugs. On the other hand Leah is an adult and relishes the luxurious lifestyle which her relationship with Ian allows her to lead. She exploits Ian as she stays with him not out of love but due to her liking for the expensive gifts he showers on her. Both Leah and Ian are exploiting one another, they are mutually dependent, each gaining something from the connection however unpleasant that may appear to some people.
The issue of prostitution is highly complex. While exploitation does take place this is by no means the whole story. Of course to acknowledge that not all prostitution is, necessarily based on exploitation is not the same as saying that sex work is desirable or the same as any other job.
March 23, 2013
The Collector
Brian looked wistfully after the girl as she vanished among the trees.
“Beautiful isn’t she?”
Brian whirld round to see a man of indeterminate age sitting on a fallen log in the forest glade.
“I wasn’t paying attention to her. I was out for a ramble. The scenery is magnificent, I was admiring those ancient oaks, they must have withstood the wind these many centuries past” he said pointing to the ancient trees which stood in a semi circle surrounding the clearing.
“Why deny it? It isn’t a crime to look” the stranger replied his black eyes looking unblinkingly into Brian’s. Despite the summer sun which slanted down through the branches creating patterns of light and shade Brian shivered. It was as though those eyes where boring into his very soul.
“OK so I was admiring a pretty girl, wheres the harm in that? And what business is it of yours anyway?” Brian said the colour rising to his cheeks.
“None at all. I was merely making an observation. Forgive me if I have caused offence. I am an observer of men, they fascinate me”.
Despite himself Brian was mesmerised by the stranger. Try as he might he couldn’t withdraw his gaze from those cold black eyes.
“and what do you observe in me?” The words where spoken before Brian could swallow them.
“You wanted to fuck her but something prevented you from folloing your natural instinct”.
Brian’s mouth felt dry as a bone. He moistened his lips
“I couldn’t, it would have been rape. I’m not a beast, I can’t give in to animal urges”.
“there’s nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so” The stranger replied.
“But some things are wicked and raping a young girl is one of them. You can’t be defending rape?!
“Throughout history governments and society have sought to place constraints on the natural instincts of mankind. They have formulated laws to prevent mankind from living in a state of joy in which he can give full expression to his desires. You believe that what the law terms rape is wrong because society has conditioned you to hold that your search for sexual pleasure is wrong”.
“But what about the effects on the girl? Rape destroys the lives of those who are raped. You don’t really believe what you are saying, you are spinning clever arguments like my philosophy professor” Brian said.
“Perhaps I am but have you ever considered how much happier your life would be where you to stop worrying about others and live in accordance with your own desires? What pedants call morality is no more than the preferences of individuals. It changes according to time and place. In Victorian England the age of consent was 13 but the law now punishes anyone who enters into sexual relations with a girl or boy under the age of 16. If a man’s desires lead him to view girls under 16-years-old as attractive then why should not he indulge himself?” the stranger said.
“Ah you are a moral relativist” Brian said desperately attempting to place his companion’s views into a convenient box.
“Perhaps there is no morality. Think of it this way. The domestic tabby has no conception that killing rodents is wrong nor does the fox feel pangs of conscience when he devours the lamb. Why then should humans be tortured by this artificial construct, morality which is, after all their own creation? Better to live as the great lion does on the plains of Africa killing, eating and reproducing. You are, forgive me for saying so a mere animal. You may think that you are superior to the other creatures but, in reality you are one of them, why not live as nature intended without this artifice of morality?”
“Conscience is what sepparates us from the other animals. When I see a starving child on the television or read about the Nazis concentration camps I feel compassion for those who suffered or are still suffering. The stacked stinking corpses in the camps where an affront to civilisation. Those who manned the gas chambers where worse than animals as they aught to have known that their actions where evil”.
“Ah “conscience does make cowards of us all, well much of humanity at any rate” the stranger said.
“Do you believe that what Hitler did was morally acceptable?” Brian said a feeling of growing nausea rising in him.
“Oh my good sir you will keep bringing this human creation, morality into the equation. My adherents scorn such mumbo jumbo. As you ask, I take no view on the holocaust. Hitler was a strong man who threw aside conventional morality, his mistake as with all you men was to believe himself to be invincible”.
The stranger’s eyes took on a dream-like expression
“I was there in Hitler’s bunker at the last. I looked on dispassionately as he shot his mistress, his dog and then himself. If only he had heeded my advice Europe, perhaps the globe could have been his” the stranger said heaving a deep sigh.
“You where in Hitler’s bunker in 1945?!” Brian asked a look of utter disbelief on his face.
“Yes and at Stalin’s side when he breathed his last. Poor man he was so paranoid at the end that had he been living in what we call a democracy he would, no doubt have been certified as insane”.
“Who are you?” Brian asked an icey shiver running down his spine.
“I’m a collector” the stranger said with a smile.
“A collector and what do you collect?” Brian asked.
“That which once lost can not be regained” the stranger said grinning from ear to ear.
“You are teasing me with riddles” Brian said.
“Tell me what is most precious to you my good sir?” the stranger asked.
“My health”
“Yes but I was thinking of something other than that” the stranger said.
“My life”
“Indeed that is precious but, again that is not what I am referring to” the stranger answered.
“Happiness as there is no point in living a life full of sorrow” Brian said
“A thought provoking answer but, again you have failed to hit the nail on the head” the stranger said his black eyes twinkling with mirth.
“I don’t know then” Brian said a look of puzzlement passing across his face.
“I despair of the modern education system. Don’t you youngsters read Milton any more? Read Paradise Lost my good sir and mind you keep a watch on your soul”. The stranger winked and in a puff of sulphurous smoke vanished leaving Brian standing open mouthed.
The end
emotionally cold?
An interesting article in The Daily Mail caught my attention, “Read it and weep! Modern day books contain 14% less emotional content than books published 100 years ago”, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2296585/Read-weep-Modern-day-books-contain-14-emotional-content-books-published-100-years-ago.html
March 22, 2013
Dream Girl
Never in his wildest dreams had Tom imagined that a girl like Bethany would be interested in a guy like him. Tom was the first to acknowledge that he was no Cupid. His beer belly bulged obscenely over the top of his threadbare trousers and his tangled hair was in urgent need of a wash and comb. However for some inexplicable reason here he lay next to a gorgeous blonde bombshell who had only just turned 20.
Softly Tom stroked Bethany’s firm young breasts. They felt like beautiful ripe pairs bursting with juice under his hands.
“God your skin is perfect just like silk”
Beth’s response was to kiss Tom full on the mouth. He wanted to explode, to shoot pure spurts of joy into this goddess. Tom reached for the comdoms which lay conveniently placed on the bedside table.
“Yes baby I want you inside me. Come on honey I need you”, Bethany moaned.
“God you are so wet” Tom exclaimed.
Suddenly it was all over. The background whirr ceased. The lights flickered and went out leaving Tom stirring disconsolately at his computer screen …
Every man has his price
According to Marxists prostitution is merely one manifestation of the middle class family (Engels held that marriage often degenerates into prostitution) see, for example an article in Slate Magazine, “Socialist Hoares: What Did Karl Marx Think of Prostitution?” (http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/explainer/2011/11/socialist_whores_what_did_karl_marx_think_of_prostitution_.html). I am no Marxist. I am however interested as a writer to explore why certain people (primarily women but men also) take a conscious decision to sell their bodies in return for financial security. In my story Rent (http://newauthoronline.com/2013/03/15/rent/) for example, Leah a girl from a tough council estate in East London’s Tower Hamlets becomes the girlfriend of Ian, a wealthy stockbroker as a means of escaping her grim existence. Leah makes the calculation that sleeping with Ian is a price worth paying to escape from a world in which drug addicts inject themselves on the stairs and the lifts stink of urine. However Leah’s fine clothes and expensive jewellery come at a high price – she sells her soul. Leah doesn’t love Ian (his contemptuous treatment of a young waitress in an expensive restaurant revolts her). She is, however unwilling to break away from the luxurious existence which Ian’s wealth allows her to enjoy.
Again, in my story Damned (http://newauthoronline.com/2013/03/10/damned/) a young Thai girl, Nan determines to seduce her western employer in order to benefit financially when he dies. As a girl of 14 Nan knows that by encouraging John to sleep with her that he is breaking the law and, as such Nan has the power to blackmail him by threatening to inform the authorities if he doesn’t agree to leave her financially secure on his death. Nan has experienced hardship (prior to meeting John she sold food on the streets of Bangkok) and in order to better her condition she calculates that having intercourse with John is a price worth paying.
There are obvious differences in the two stories. Leah lives in the UK where despite her life being grim the welfare state will prevent her from starving (her life in the tower block is horrible but she won’t die). In contrast there is no welfare safety net in Thailand and Nan must work or die. So is Leah more “culpable” than Nan when she determines to provide sex in return for economic security? On one level this is true. Nan is a child who, arguably does not possess the capacity to make an informed choice about selling her body. As an adult John could have resisted her advances however, being weak willed he fails to do so. In contrast Leah is an adult who possesses the intellectual capacity to make informed decisions regarding her own body. One may argue that economic circumstances push Leah into the arms of Ian, however many other people in the same situation as Leah do not opt to sell their bodies by becoming the mistresses of rich men so, ultimately Leah does make a conscious choice. Whether her decision is right or wrong is a matter for my readers to determine. For my own part I am wary of passing moral judgements on others. We are all fallible human beings. Life is rarely black and white, it tends rather to be made up of shades of grey.
March 20, 2013
The Politician
Can someone pass the fountain pen please?
One of my new year’s resolutions was to review books which I’ve purchased in the Amazon Kindle store. Yesterday I received an e-mail from Amazon inviting me to review a book I’d downloaded. Just as I was about to dip my quil pen in the brass ink well which stands in pride of place on my oak desk (well put fingers to keyboard actually but quil pens sound much better)! I noticed that the book which I was being invited to review was my very own work, Samantha! Now how many stars should I provide my own book? And what kind of review should I leave? Answers please on a postcard written with your very own quil pens or, failing that a fountain pen will do! This will, of course be one book which I won’t be reviewing!
If anyone is wondering why I downloaded my own book the answer is a simple one – I wished to have my own copy on my Kindle.
I’m off now to buy blotting paper and fresh ink.
Kevin
March 19, 2013
My Online Stories
Apart from my books (Samantha and The First Time) I have, in addition published a number of short stories which are scattered throughout this blog. To make locating my short stories easier I have created a dedicated page which links directly to all my published stories (please see http://newauthoronline.com/my-online-stories/. I hope you enjoy reading my stories and the other content on this blog.
