LJ Idol // Week 26 // Grip
Posh British.
I have a confession to make: I don’t understand America at all. I’m generalising, of course, but speaking in general, this is true. I don’t understand America. There’s a vast cultural wall somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, and I’m not sure how to look through it.
Some years ago I was part of an undergraduate creative writing class taught by a PhD student from the USA. The format of the class was simple: each week we took it in turns to workshop 2000 word extracts of our work, offering constructive feedback and advice. My week arrived, and I had turned in an extract from a novel: it was a scene between a Queen and a Princess following the unexpected death of the Queen’s older daughter. Now, for all the flaws and feedback points I expected on the piece, something happened that threw me right off centre. My teacher picked up on a peculiar and unexpected issue - an issue that I did not expect:
“There’s not enough grief.” She said.
“Sorry?” I was perplexed.
“There’d be screaming and crying and obvious grief,” she said. “That’s what people do when someone dies.”
“But they’re Aristocrats,” said I. “And they’re British.”
But my teacher remained firm: in times of grief people must always scream and gnash their teeth, regardless of nationality. They must throw things and wail, and then discuss things with their therapist. (People must always talk about things in a direct and obvious manner).
I didn’t press the matter.
Later that day, when I received the feedback sheets from my classmates I was somewhat amused to read numerous scribbled notes in the corners: my British classmates agreed with me. For all the flaws in my early novel writing escapades, my understanding of Posh British Behaviour wasn’t one of them.
The British ‘Stiff Upper Lip’ ain't dead, and if you’re screaming and gnashing your teeth: get a bloody grip - everyday life is quite capable of carrying on without you.
I have a confession to make: I don’t understand America at all. I’m generalising, of course, but speaking in general, this is true. I don’t understand America. There’s a vast cultural wall somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, and I’m not sure how to look through it.
Some years ago I was part of an undergraduate creative writing class taught by a PhD student from the USA. The format of the class was simple: each week we took it in turns to workshop 2000 word extracts of our work, offering constructive feedback and advice. My week arrived, and I had turned in an extract from a novel: it was a scene between a Queen and a Princess following the unexpected death of the Queen’s older daughter. Now, for all the flaws and feedback points I expected on the piece, something happened that threw me right off centre. My teacher picked up on a peculiar and unexpected issue - an issue that I did not expect:
“There’s not enough grief.” She said.
“Sorry?” I was perplexed.
“There’d be screaming and crying and obvious grief,” she said. “That’s what people do when someone dies.”
“But they’re Aristocrats,” said I. “And they’re British.”
But my teacher remained firm: in times of grief people must always scream and gnash their teeth, regardless of nationality. They must throw things and wail, and then discuss things with their therapist. (People must always talk about things in a direct and obvious manner).
I didn’t press the matter.
Later that day, when I received the feedback sheets from my classmates I was somewhat amused to read numerous scribbled notes in the corners: my British classmates agreed with me. For all the flaws in my early novel writing escapades, my understanding of Posh British Behaviour wasn’t one of them.
The British ‘Stiff Upper Lip’ ain't dead, and if you’re screaming and gnashing your teeth: get a bloody grip - everyday life is quite capable of carrying on without you.