That bastion of progressive and informed thought, The Sun, has shot itself in the foot in its pursuit of ‘snowflake’ students: Snowflake students claim Frankenstein’s monster was ‘misunderstood’ — and is in fact a VICTIM.


The NewStatesman picked up on the story today, but The Times had made the same error a few days ago (it’s behind a paywall but you get the sense of the article).

Admittedly, I’ve read Frankenstein more times than I can remember, but even on the first reading, your sympathy is with the creature and you soon realise that Victor Frankenstein is indeed the real monster of the story. It’s one of the perverse pleasures of the book – especially if you come to it from having watched the Universal and Hammer movie monsters stomping around and smashing everything. The creature is scorned, misunderstood and tortured, but he learns to read and becomes more articulate, even poetic, in describing his dreadful plight.

Was there ever a gold age when journalists were well-read and educated? It seems now that whatever suits the editorial agenda will do – and I don’t suppose too many Sun readers will bother checking the facts for themselves. If they were concerned with such things, they would read The Sun

Weird writers…

Well, we’re all a bit weird aren’t we, but some seem to have explored new levels of eccentricity. Jack Milgram has put together another great infographic, this time detailing the idiosyncrasies of famous authors.

It’s one of those long scrolly ones, so click on the pic below to see it in all its glory:


Personally, I prefer to write with a fountain pen when getting down ideas, my notebooks are all Moleskines, and if I need to be really creative, I like a couple of drinks (no more!) to lubricate the cogs in my head.

This is as quirky as I get!

Chaz I

I took a day off and spent the late morning at the Royal Academy of Art’s Charles I: King and Collector exhibition.


You can read the reviews for yourself and I’m no art historian, but suffice to say that it’s an incredible collection. And, whatever the political and historical narrative of the fall of Charles I, there’s something incredible poignant about seeing him with his family in Van Dyke’s paintings. Indeed, the most striking thing is the initial confrontation with the king in his Charles I in Three Positions, which is the portrait that greets you as you enter.


It’s hung so that he’s slightly above eye-level and has the effect of making you feel as if he’s looking at you accusingly. You are after all about to walk around with the rest of the common folk and peer at his beloved art collection.

The guilt is only fleeting though. The anticipation of so many Holbeins, Titians, Rembrandts, Reubens and Gentileschis (to name but a few) in such close proximity for the first time in over 300 years is inclined to make you forget your manners and traipse on through…