BOOK: THE TRUTH ABOUT THE HARRY QUEBERT AFFAIR

Swiss author Joël Dicker created something altogether enticing with his novel The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair. I finished it within two weeks of reading the first page and found myself utterly engrossed, forgetting to shower, staying up until the crack of dawn pouring myself wholly into knowing what comes next. I think that was the most enticing element of the book, the never-knowing-what-comes-next. You are constantly bombarded with new ideas that feel as though are original, but when it comes to the last sentence of the last chapter the realisation hits that Dicker is just an incredibly talented writer with true artisanal skill. Books have always been adventures to me, from a young age, so Dicker's input into my land of adventure was a welcome one. I battled with my understanding and liking of many of the characters throughout, but in the end there was some kind of satisfaction, almost as if I had grown to know everyone.

Described as a "breathtakingly plotted story" it is no wonder that I found myself at the edge of my seat every few minutes with the wicked twists and turns Dicker created. His way with writing and understanding of the audience really inspired me, it was as if every word of every page was meant for you and only you and I craved knowledge of how this was done. I think it all started with the book cover, a bold statement of truth emblazoned in the style of a tabloid, the type of truth you crave knowledge of just because it was presented the right way. Then Dickers introduction of Quebert and Goldman, two likeable, somewhat successful gentlemen and then all of a sudden the scandal. Everybody loves a scandal, and Dicker's was an evolving one.

An element of the book had me questioning my morals. I was enticed by the relationship between Quebert and his too-young love Nola, who, in my mind, had the most beautiful imaginary voice and a sweet ring to her name. The tale of forbidden love and alienation that stems from it is what really inspired me moving forward. I imagine everyone believes these two things are so intertwined they have a love story of their own, and I felt that was something beautiful to be explored. The love story of forbidden love and alienation.

TV: AMERICAN HORROR STORY

I have never liked Horrors, but Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk in combination make more than horrors. Their skill is prevalent in each and every episode of American Horror Story and of course the first episode of AHS: Hotel does more than exceed their reputation. The sheer violence in the filming technique and scene set up is what has always allowed me to seperate them from the remaining horror-maker-clan. Murphy and Falchuk seep violence and terror into every aspect, from the marked wallpaper to the single absent-looking bloodstain in the carpet.

The first episode of AHS: Hotel had be shaking a bit, I didn't expect to be so intensely engrossed in something that I, quite literally, found gross. Certain elements had me almost pushed to the 'too far' stage, but Murphy & Falchuk always reign it back in just in time. There is horror engrained in the introduction to each and every character, except the Countess, played by Lady Gaga. The Countess is another story, her presence attacks you and makes you a slave. We are introduced to her being escorted, her nature is quite obviously based on pride, but I think the viewer quite instantly decides her pride is deserved. She wears artisanal pieces that would have you clawing at her feat if she was attainable, and her metal menacing glove makes you want to cower in the corner and beg for mercy. Yet she essentially resembles peace, like the predator honing in on her prey with the knowledge that no worry is needed. She will eat tonight.

FILM: THE INTERN

I can't imagine what it must be like to write a review on premiere release. Writing about a 2-hour-or-so long film that ambushes you with emotion, character names and a ever developing plotline even within an hour of seeing it is hard for me. I want to rewind, remember the quotes that made me feel something, the imagery that made me truly see and the characters that made me fall temporarily in love. I didn't have high expectations of the Intern, in fact I simply chose it because I didn't really want to see anything else at that moment in time, but it sort of transformed me in this temporary, slightly cliche way. Interning is something I'd like to say we have all experienced (well maybe not absolutely everyone), but it in itself is a transforming *right of passage*. Robert De Niro however, takes this role of intern in a never imagined route (perhaps in a romanticised sense because I'm sure interns have become friends with employees / bosses in the past). His beautifully real character floats through hundreds of characterising and sometimes challenging scenes. There were moments of the film, particularly towards the end, that just had me absolutely enveloped, completely at the directors mercy. It is something so very intriguing, the ability to create an emotional attachment with someone that isn't real and is very much temporary. Is this feeling alike to that imaginary friend you had when you were little? Or to the neighbour who plays nice music that you have never met?



I was having a downer on life, before watching this film. The weather wasn't great, the electricity had just cut out and I'd tried my very best to reset it but nothing was going right. The Intern is a feel-good film, but perhaps with a deeper meaning. I mean I wouldn't put it in the same realm as Bridesmaids (more of a chick flick feel-good), there was substance and realness that made you in that room with them, or feeling the breeze through the car window. It is movies like these that I am grateful for, they give me a temporary escape that I don't feel guilty about. A daydream, maybe?

FILM: RESTLESS

Restless. The minute the film ended I found myself grasping at the title, wondering, as I always do, where it originated from, what was the story behind it - but it struck me then that it in itself made me restless, and perhaps that was its purpose. Restless is something along the lines of quaint and bold, two adjectives that dance together in a battle of dominance. I didn't quite click with the film and its story until a good quarter of the film had passed, the outrageous antics of Enoch, an obviously troubled boy (I thought at first), who simply attends random funerals to stare at the bodies troubled me and made me somewhat uncomfortable. It is then that you are introduced to the whimsical, life-loving and bird-drawer Annabel, who is perhaps Enoch's medicine. That was an interesting thought that I came to during the film, that the decaying and frail life of Annabel was the medicine for the troubled, rocky yet absolutely full life of Enoch. They compliment each other perfectly and dance through the film in harmony and happiness. It is no wonder that I was left confused; at one time sad and another time happy.



The visuals Gus Van Sant created with Restless were simple masterpieces in a way. They remained relatable, the viewer was not detracted from the story, yet small pieces stuck out to me in an effortless yet utterly purposeful manner. For one, Enoch's 'ghost' Hiroshi (as he calls him) treads carefully as a character, he is altogether believable yet I found the mere flap of his hat a hint at his make-believe nature. It was intriguing to find such a small may-I-say flaw, to become the definition of what I believed.



Each scene seemed perfectly considered, as it should be, Van Sant took care of each minuscule detail and created a piece that was altogether subtly powerful. The seasons changed as life battled death for Annabel, ultimately ending in her death when the snow arrived. The use of this cold created the haze of breath from the characters that grew until it consumed them. There is a terrifyingly powerful love that seeps through the film, it battles so hard with the ultimate demise of the Annabel that I thought of it as some sort of injustice; we are not allowed to cry for the girl who was happy. But a happy girl does not deserve to die.

ARTSNIGHT: IRVINE WELSH

Knowing that this was being filmed early on (from my not-so-secret insider at The Biscuit Factory) I had high hopes and high expectations, and in many ways the documentary totally hit it. I'm just pretty suprised (at myself for one) that I had to be prompted to be offended by the fact that there are zero female artists interviewed or mentioned in the documentary. Of course, props to all the talented men featured, but it'd be nice to have a 'wee' mention of the female Scots - their strong accents aren't representative of nothing!

I found it particularly interesting watching the mouth move to the Scottish rhymes spoken by Kevin Williamson & Michael Pederson. The spoken word is so much more passionate with the Scottish twang, and as much as I used to hate (sorry not sorry) the accent, it's grown on me! I was really drawn to the works of Kevin Harman, whose project in 2008 - Love Thy Neighbour saw him bring together neighbours by ‘borrowing’ the doormats from outside the front doors of tenement buildings and inviting the entirety of the neighbourhood to collect them in an effort to create pretty much a giant social gathering I would say (a doormat party??). This is the kind of Art I have passion for. Art with purpose, meaning, and perhaps an element of sociality.

Watch it here.

TV: SCREAM QUEENS

On my first day back from London I decided it was time for a bit of a rest, my poor feet were sore and all of my best clothes had to be thrown in a wash (definitely not leaving the house in my not-best clothes). This meant it was TV-time, probably one of my favourite methods of escapism, after books of course. I'd caught the trailer for Scream Queens earlier this year and made sure I tucked it away at the back of my head so that when the time came I'd find and watch it. I have a slight aversion to Emma Roberts, but quite the opposite for directors Ryan Murphy & Brad Falchuk (creators of my ultimate favourite American Horror Story). I generally thought Emma Roberts was somewhat talentless and probably suited a secondary role in Mean Girls back in 2004, but her lead role in Scream Queens struck me as suited and STRONG.



SQ is a little bit more comedy that AHS, the storyline is predictably ridiculous but the set design, costume design and casting is impeccable. Ariana Grande smashing the dumb, beautiful sorority girl, and Emma doing likewise but in an altogether dark and pretty nonchalant manner. I inevitably was super intrigued by the sorority lifestyle, most predictably because I have literally no idea what it entails (apart from the crazy odd stories I'm fed through social media and of course, the wild minds of directors like Murphy & Falchuk). So here's what I've gathered, from a little online research...



It's a brotherhood or sisterhood where you are basically blood bound to keep each others secrets, have a heavily vetted method of entry (aka a becoming 'one of us' ceremony) and use a 'complex identification symbol' as an identity. So basically everything social media and mass media claim. I'll do a bit more digging and see what I can find.

LFW: DAY I

My first day back in London after more than a year of being away has been a concoction of crazy, in only a good way of course. The buildings are just as tall, defined and sharp to the eye as I remember, and the city is just as dirty as I remember too. But all the grime is noticed within the first few minutes and then forgotten for the 'London is a land of opportunity' that everyone screams with their too busy vibes and no-time-to-say-thank-you lifestyle.

My first show of LFW was Bora Aksu, where I spotted two new-faces on the Scottish modelling industry scene. Bora Aksu was a commotion, it almost seemed as though the brightness and buzz of soho translated into the show like I have never experienced before (not like the shows at Somerset House at least). The show began by introducing us to a selection of baby pink clothes that made me instantly think of baby clothes (perhaps not in a good way), but gradually transformed into artisanal, structured dresses that I hadn't quite experienced the like of before. Beginning with a cream, off white number that created a disjunction between boldness and delicacy in it's stand out flowering shapes, models continued to produce dresses of different colours, silhouettes and lengths all strongly projecting this disjunction in theme.

Then came Jean-Pierre Braganza - quite a contrast to the somewhat fun colour and print from Bora Aksu. Braganza cleverly used his invitation as a translation of his collection, establishing the theme to his audience. The tricolour pieces and continuous print created an extremely strong glue between his pieces and an overbearing theme. I thoroughly enjoyed the seemingly computer generated print that flowed through the collection, which made me wonder where it came from and what it was an adaption of. The bold red and stark white were a colour palette sure to succeed.

With the two 'big-time' shows over it was only right that I then headed to the very fun, very bright, presentation of Clio Peppiatt's SS16 collection. Pink isn't entirely my favourite colour, but Peppiatt did it right with her textures, short cuts and fun-loving prints. It became obvious to me that the collection was accessible in a positive and endearing manner, truly communicated by the cheeky (staged?) nature of Peppiatt's chosen presentation models.