Tags » Aphra Behn

August 28: Aphra Behn

Hello Cobblers!

Today we praise the work of Aphra Behn with her poem “To the Fair Clarinda, Who Made Love to Me, Imagine More Than Woman.” Longest poem title ever, but fantastic. 131 more words

Literary Cobblestones

Benn. Aphra Behn. Neither shaken nor stirred.

Aphra Johnson is one of England’s foremost literary ladies. She wrote plays and poems and even a book on botany but I first heard of her because she was an early novelist and spent a grim week wading through her novel Oroonoko – though to be fair Eighteenth Century Studies was by far the grimmest of the courses I followed many moons ago at university and I didn’t know the extent that she was drawing on her experiences and coming to think of it she had nothing to do with the eighteenth century! 459 more words

Seventeenth Century

Episode 166: A Craft Discussion About VIrginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own with Vanessa Blakeslee!

Episode 166 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download. 90 more words

Episode

The Collectress Picks: 5 Bad Ass Historical Women

I have a lot of respect for the women that paved the way for the rest of us. Here are five women who defied cultural norms and expectations to do incredible things. 1,002 more words

The Collectress

The Odds and Ends Shelf: Mostly Short Stories

This was around the time I first discovered Scribd. Great site, but it could use better selection. 533 more words

Books

When the stage meets the page – past and present

In the preface to his tragedy Sémiramis (1749), Voltaire damningly characterized the typical eighteenth-century French theatre as ‘a tennis court with a tasteless set at one end, in which audience members are positioned contrary to all laws of order and reason, some standing on the stage itself with others standing in what is known as the parterre, where they are obscenely hemmed in and crushed, and sometimes surge forward over one another impetuously, as though caught up in a popular uprising’.[1] By contrast, the modern experience of theatre in London’s West End is one of slipping into expensive seats booked months in advance, flicking through a glossy programme, and sinking into reverential silence as the lights dim – always double checking that our mobile phones are switched off, lest we be the unfortunate soul to… 664 more words

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