The Submarine

Batik – Darcy Maule

The Submarine VOL 10 NO 2 June/September 2015

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

EDITORIAL

Most of us have come across this time-

honoured graffiti somewhere: ‘To be is to do—

Socrates. To do is to be—Sartre. Doobee

doobee doo—Sinatra.’ Actually the first two

sayings are variously attributed to Plato,

Sophocles, Montesquieu, Kant, Kafka,

Wittgenstein and whoever you had breakfast

with; only Sinatra is constant.

But in these lines we can see something

more than a mocking of philosophical

seriousness by Rat Pack hedonism, or indeed

vice versa. In these words we can see the

world of work: ‘to do is to be.’ And that of

thought: ‘to be is to do.’ And not least, the

world of play: ‘doobee doobee doo’. All are

vital components of a fulfilled human

existence.

We might as well throw in another well-

known quotation while we have you—

Milton’s paradoxical ‘they also serve who

only stand and wait.’ Of which there are many interpretations. The Librarian’s own (he has

absolutely no evidence for this), is that the poet happened to glance up at his bookshelves and

saw the volumes waiting there: the phrase sprang into his mind complete, too good not to use.

There is an excellent website called The Browser (https//:thebrowser.com) which collects

articles from publications around the world. Of particular interest in this exam-laden month is

one by Jackson Lears in Commonweal entitled ‘The Liberal Arts vs. Neoliberalism.’ In it he

reviews William Deresiewicz's book, “Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite

and the Way to a Meaningful Life.” A flavour of his opinions can be found towards the end of

his first paragraph: ‘The commitment to searching out deep truths has yielded to the celebration

of playing with surfaces (in the arts) or solving problems (in the sciences). The merger of

postmodern irony and positivist scientism has been underwritten by neoliberal capitalism—

whose only standard of value is market utility.’

For liberals of the woolly rather than neo hue this is alarming. Essentially Lears is arguing

that the purpose and intent of neo-liberal capitalism is to commodify everything—i.e. to give it a

measurable monetary value—and that universities are surrendering. American undergraduates in

elite colleges are flogging themselves to bits not in the pursuit of knowledge or higher truth, but

to improve their employability. Universities meanwhile are measuring success through their

graduate employment statistics; multinational investment and lucrative ‘partnerships’ depend on

it.

‘They also serve [have purpose/are useful] who only stand and wait’…‘Doing nothing’, of

course, is not doing nothing—it’s doing something for its own sake, without awareness of cost or

time (how those two cronies do operate together in the business lexicon!) In Lears’ world of

heightened academia, it means to operate in a sphere where marketability is not important, where

‘deep thought’, discovery, insight, knowledge are legitimate ends in themselves. They require a

time-free, context-free environment. They should be protected. We might never get to know of

the work done there but it is vital to us as humans, who are in constant search of meaning.

But for the rest of us who do not operate in academic elites, it means to know how to stand

and wait. For if you are standing (or sitting, or walking) you are quite possibly thinking—even if

you don’t think you are. But even more importantly, you are being. Standing and waiting (under

a tree in the rain, for example) means, for those few short moments (Irish summer), that you are

not a product, or a producer, you are not commodifiable, nor a commodity. You belong only to

yourself and your people. Doing what you are doing—being you—is not measureable or

marketable or saleable. In a world where even the personal has become profitable, you are—

quite literally—out of it.

So if I had a word of wisdom for our leavers, for school leavers everywhere, (as I feel I am

entitled to goodness sakes) it would be to say, by all means be a doer—that is important and

expected—but truly balance it with ‘doing nothing’. And remember to play. The insidious,

artificial measure of marketability will define you otherwise, for good or ill. You are only here

once. Be who you are. The world needs you. TMcC, Librarian

Tarzan’s Pool

by Tania Stokes

I see the trees framing the bridge

As I tread a well-worn trail

Through a forest harbouring relics

To find a forgotten, shrouded pool

I hear the operatic chorus

The hum of the mosquito’s tune

The flick of the lizard’s tongue

My echoing footsteps

I smell the must of mystery

Sunbeams warming water

Rocks, lichen, leaf mould

Come to life as scents

I sense the silent creatures

Move beneath the water

The unseen reaches of the forest

Left untouched by humankind

I am a gateway to another time

I am the orchestra of the forest

I am the guardian of the past

I am

A secret place

CONTENTS

Editorial……………………………………………..…………..1

Tarzan’s Pool, Tania Stokes……………………..…….2

New Books in the Library…………………………..…..3

Book review The Fault in Our Stars, Harvey

McCone………………………………………………..……… 4

Junior Poetry: A Book, Poppy O’Malley; Copy

Book, Andrew Pollock; Sensing, Johnny Pollock;

The Colours of the Senses, Tania Stokes………..6

Back Home, Valentina Ascencio Munoz………..8

The Green and the Grey, Nyla Jamieson….…….9

Film review American Sniper, Douglas Boyd

Crotty…………………………………………………………..10

Rust, Sam Lawrence; My Grardmother’s Hands,

Rowan Sweeney………………………………………….11

The Referendum on Presidential Age, Nyla

Jamieson……………………………………………………..12

Many thanks, firstly, to our contributors for

putting themselves ‘out there’. I hope you feel it

was worth the risk – I certainly do. Thanks too

to those members of staff who ‘applied the

pressure’ (were conduits) – Ms Smith, Mr

Jameson, Dr Bannister and Ms Cullen.

And a very big thanks, as ever, to our

‘publisher’, Ms Emily Bainton, without whom

The Submarine would be a sad little photocopy.

* * *

2

NEW BOOKS IN

THE LIBRARY These are some of the books

we added to our shelves this

term

JUNIOR FICTION

Brilliant by Roddy Doyle

The Death Cure by James Dashner

The Eye of Minds by James Dashner

Fyre: Septimus Heape 7 by Angie Sage

Heist Society by Ally Carter

The Kill Order by James Dashner

Manifesto on How to be Interesting by Holly

Bourne

The Maze Runner by James Dashner

Moone Boy: The Blunder Years by Chris

O'Dowd & Nick V.Murphy,

Phoenix by S F Said,

Rebel Heart by Moira Young,

Spiders by Tom Hoyle

Split Second by Sophie McKenzie,

Uncommon Criminals by Ally Carter

Trouble by Non Pratt,

United We Spy by Ally Carter

SENIOR FICTION

The Bone People by Keri Hulme

The Broken Eye by Brent Weeks

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

The Green Road by Anne Enright

Haweswater by Sarah Hall

The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

The Lives of Women by Christine Dwyer

Hickey,

Us by David Nicholls

SENIOR NON-FICTION

Alan Turing: the Enigma by Andrew Hodges

American Sniper: the autobiography of the most lethal sniper in U.S. history by Chris

Kyle & Jim Defelice

Astronomy in Minutes: the night sky explained in an instant by Giles Sparrow

The British Working Class 1832-1940 by

Andrew August

Collective Conviction: the story of Disaster Action by Anne Eyre & Pam Dix (editors)

Germany: memories of a nation by Neil

MacGregor

The Great Terror: a reassessment by Robert

Conquest

I am Malala: the girl who stood up for

education and was shot by the Taliban by

Malala Yousafzai & Christina Lamb

Jewish Slavery in Antiquity by Catherine

Hezser

Leni: the life and work of Leni Riefenstahl by

Steven Bach

The Looting Machine: warlords, tycoons,

smugglers and the systematic theft of Africa's wealth by Tom Burgis

Milton's Vision: the birth of Christian liberty by Theo Hobson

The Monarchy and the British Nation 1780 to

the Present by Andrzej Olechnowicz,(editor)

The Nude: a study in ideal form by

KennethClark

Oxford Readings in Classical Studies: Persius and Juvenal by Maria Plaza (editor)

The Rise of Thomas Cromwell : power and politics in the reign of Henry VIII by

MichaelEverett

Sex by Numbers: what statistics can tell us about sexual behaviour by David Spiegelhalter

The Swerve: how the Renaissance began by

Stephen Greenblatt

Things: a spectrum of photography1850-2001 by Mark Haworth-Booth (editor)

The Ulrich von Hassell Diaries: the story of

the forces against Hitler inside Germany by

Ulrich von Hassell

Unexplained Mysteries of World War II by

Jeremy Harwood

Wild: a journey from lost to found by Cheryl

Strayed

William Stott of Oldham 1857-1900: 'A

Comet rushing to the Sun' by Roger Brown

Batik – Marina Wright

3

should be reserved for girls and middle aged women. But when I wandered into a plain,

WHS in England, something drew me to this obsession of thousands,

The relationship between the two main characters Hazel and Gus is the total focus of the

story and I think that aspect really appealed to me. I think one of the things that contri

this focus is their medical conditions. Hazel is living with cancer and Gus has just been treated,

their cancer has enveloped their lives completely and simply living with it is their purpose. Their

relationship changes this and they now live for

And that’s a thing I loved about it. Gus is hilarious! There are moments where I cringed at the

things he says and does yet it’s hard not to find him incredibly cool and even people who didn’t

like him cannot deny that putting cigarettes in your mouth and not smoking them is original.

Their relationship is not just romantic, it is also cool and quirky. It’s a 21

The story is a cauldron of emotions. The excitement when they are in Amst

together, the intimacy of their scene in bed and of course, the heartbreaking moments. There are

two moments that stand out in my memory. Firstly the scene when Hazel finds Gus sprawled out

in his car. It is vividly described and is such a desperate

inside. “Augustus sat in the driver’s seat, covered in his own vomit, his hands pressed to his

belly where the G-tube went in.”

The other moment is when Hazel is reading Gus’s letter to her befor

writes, “for about one second I was a good

enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I

wanted more time so we could fall in love.” There is something about this that I found so sad yet

so touching. He knew what pain he was causing her, he knew that he was going to die and leave

her forever. But he couldn’t stop himself because he loved her too much and wanted to spend his

last days with her.

The paradox of the whole story is one of my

knows that Hazel is ill. The reader knows that Gus is ill and eventually finds out that he’s going

to die. Yet once they start on the journey together you forget about all that. You forget the

limited time that they have you forget that at any moment one of them could end up in hospital.

The point where Hazel is rushed to hospital grounds you. But as soon as she is together with Gus

again you go back to thinking and wanting them to be together forever. As Hazel h

“you gave me a forever within the numbered days.”

Book review:

The Fault in Our Stars

by John Green

Harvey McCone

Why is The Fault In Our Stars

phenomenon?

Everywhere I looked I saw it. I’d watch TV and

I’d see the trailer for the movie. I’d be listening

to the radio and I’d hear people raving about the

book. Even when I was listening to music on

Spotify I’d hear countless advertisements for it.

The Fault in Our Stars was everywhere. Of

course, I tried to act oblivious to the whole thing.

A teenage boy trying to keep up my ‘male

status’, ushering away a soppy, love story that

should be reserved for girls and middle aged women. But when I wandered into a plain,

WHS in England, something drew me to this obsession of thousands,


story and I think that aspect really appealed to me. I think one of the things that contri



relationship changes this and they now live for the other person. Their personalities are unique.



ot deny that putting cigarettes in your mouth and not smoking them is original.

Their relationship is not just romantic, it is also cool and quirky. It’s a 21st century love story.

The story is a cauldron of emotions. The excitement when they are in Amst



in his car. It is vividly described and is such a desperate moment that it makes you feel sick


The other moment is when Hazel is reading Gus’s letter to her before his death. He

writes, “for about one second I was a good



ng. He knew what pain he was causing her, he knew that he was going to die and leave


The paradox of the whole story is one of my favourite parts. At the beginning the reader



they have you forget that at any moment one of them could end up in hospital.


again you go back to thinking and wanting them to be together forever. As Hazel h

“you gave me a forever within the numbered days.”

4

The Fault in Our Stars

The Fault In Our Stars such a

Everywhere I looked I saw it. I’d watch TV and

I’d see the trailer for the movie. I’d be listening

to the radio and I’d hear people raving about the

book. Even when I was listening to music on

Spotify I’d hear countless advertisements for it.

was everywhere. Of

course, I tried to act oblivious to the whole thing.

A teenage boy trying to keep up my ‘male

status’, ushering away a soppy, love story that

should be reserved for girls and middle aged women. But when I wandered into a plain, boring


story and I think that aspect really appealed to me. I think one of the things that contributes to



the other person. Their personalities are unique.



ot deny that putting cigarettes in your mouth and not smoking them is original.

century love story.

The story is a cauldron of emotions. The excitement when they are in Amsterdam



moment that it makes you feel sick


e his death. He



ng. He knew what pain he was causing her, he knew that he was going to die and leave


favourite parts. At the beginning the reader



they have you forget that at any moment one of them could end up in hospital.


again you go back to thinking and wanting them to be together forever. As Hazel herself puts it,

Magical. I think lots of people see The Fault In Our Stars as the stuff of dreams. It is an

amazing story that is a fantasy. The setting plays a huge part in creating this feeling. The dinner

scene in Amsterdam feels like a dream. I think a lot of people wish they could experience the

magic that these characters experience. I think the best way to describe it is that it’s the perfect

love story.

So I got a shock when I read this book. And it’s obvious to me why The Fault In Our

Stars is such a phenomenon. I never realised that a book could produce so many feelings. Could

be such rollercoaster ride of joy and despair from start to finish. Hate or adore Gus and Hazel's

love story, there is no denying that this book will mark you. It is a book you won't forget. It

keeps you thinking for at least a day after it. About the ifs and buts. Wondering at the different

endings the book could have had, that perhaps you wanted it to have. And thinking about the

immortal word, “forever”.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Tres Chés

Che Guevara, 1960

Robbie McDonald as Che Guevara, 2015.

Photographed by Felix Mertes

Conall Mather-Dix as Che Guevara, 2015.

Photographed by Felix Alyn Morgan

5

The Son of Man, 1964 by Rene Magritte

JUNIOR POETRY Charming, witty, moving, vibrant,

thoughtful – just some of the words that

describe the work of our young poets...

A Book by Poppy O’Malley

You think I’m a bore

Full of unuseful general knowledge,

But I am different, and I will always be

different.

You prefer technology over me, which

hurts.

I had a prime time –

But it’s over now.

Technology has replaced me.

I’m sick of the shelf

Squished between dusty books

That haven’t been touched for years.

Maybe if I didn’t have a dusty red cover

And I wasn’t all battered and bruised

I’d be picked up once more.

Copy Book by Andrew Pollock

I am a copybook

Scribbled on my front, a name.

All eighty-eight pages

Exactly the same.

You think I’m boring

And that I enjoyed each day

But I didn’t

I never liked school anyway.

You don’t understand

how badly I’m abused and mistreated:

I’m sick of being thrown away

Every time I’m completed.

I’m sick of listening to them

Chatter and moan

Always asking each other the time.

And in response from the teacher,

A groan.

Lola Gasull Algas as The Son of Man, 2015.

Photographed by Nathalie Verwijs

6

Sensing by Johnny Pollock

I see under my duvet,

which drapes over the edge of my bed,

Where all the monsters live

Listening from underneath me every

night.

I hear nothing from them, which

trembles my soul.

It wakes me when I need sleep most.

I can hear them without listening to

them,

Their silence is loudest of all.

I smell their presence as I flick

The light switch into my bedroom.

They scatter.

I smell the dirt of their scaly skin

I sense they know me,

I sense they are waiting for a good

Opportunity to take me.

I sense them up close when my eyes are

shut.

I sense they are near in the night time.

I am the monsters that live under my

bed.

I am the silence that is the loudest of all.

I am the dirt from their scaly skin.

I am closest when your eyes close.

The Colours of the Senses

by Tania Stokes

Outside the door

Is a fresh spring day

The scent of pale green hues

tinged with lavender

A waterfall

Comes crashing down

The sound of raging dark blue shades

Roaring above a pool of black

Wild berries

Growing free upon the hill

The taste of deep purple

Unattainable royalty

Scattered pine needles

Carpet the forest floor

Red to the touch

Is their prickle defence

The sunset

Unravels its shining skein

I see its golden beauty

As the day ends.

Lino cut – Philip Shekleton

Batik – Sophia Siefert

7

Girl at the Window by Salvador Dali, 1925

BACK HOME might not be quite what you think, writes Valentina Ascencio MunozValentina Ascencio MunozValentina Ascencio MunozValentina Ascencio Munoz

You are in the plane and you are thinking about all the things you want to do, all the people you

want to see and you keep wondering how everybody is. It is the first time you visit your

homeland in two months. The flight may seem infinite to you but you are not annoyed, on the

contrary, you are drunk, drunk on happiness and excitement. Finally the megaphone voice

announces your arrival. You take your belongings,

careful not to forget anything. You go out of the

plane. You have to cross a corridor that appears

endless and then wait an eternity for your luggage to

come out. You hope someone is at the airport

waiting for you. Then, you see your parents, smiling

so hard you fear their lips might break and their

sparkling eyes look at you as if you have been

resurrected from the dead. They both hug you. They

do not let you go. They kiss you on both cheeks

continually. In a normal situation you would

immediately escape their caresses but not today,

today you are back home and they have missed you.

You become their unharmed victim for a while, and

you do not complain about it.

When you arrive at your house it does not feel like

home anymore. Everything is moved, all your

personal belongings: your old CDs, your favourite clothes, your coloured frames, your

memories, even your bed seems different. The smell is not the same. You do not belong here

anymore but you have to hold it together. In that moment mixed feelings fill you violently:

anger, nostalgia, loneliness and emptiness. Do not bring back to life your old memories. You try

to convince yourself that you are experiencing the best part of your life. You will discover

sooner or later that you are, because there is no better thing than getting to know the outside

world. I hope that you are not trying to return everything to how it was, because you will not

succeed. It would be like you are looking for a lost perfection that never existed. You feel

powerless. The best possible reaction to this inevitable change is acceptance. You cannot expect

that during the long time you have been away everything stayed frozen, as if the whole universe

was spinning around you.

When the time to dine comes you sit at the table you used to sit at when you were a tiny

little human. Your mom has prepared Greek food, your favourite, and you are terribly thankful.

You turn your head all around the room to contemplate the familiar furniture and a warm

recognition fills you. Your dad makes his usual jokes that never made you laugh but today you

giggle until your abdomen hurts. You enjoy every minuscule bit of the delicious feast that was

specially prepared for you. You cut the chicken slowly, imagining its taste before it even touches

your mouth; you pour on the yoghurt dressing and finally you savour the heavenly food while

you destroy it languidly with your teeth. You eat an oversized portion; in consequence you feel

you are about to explode. Then you help cleaning the table, moaning as always. Some things

never change. You sleep in your bedroom that was once your secret cave but now is an empty

cemetery of memories.

The sound of your phone wakes you up the next morning. You pick it up from the messy

floor and discover that your friends want to meet you for lunch. You are delighted instantly. For

the rest of the morning you are not able to disguise that stupid smile on your face. You take an

exaggerated time to choose your attire. You speed to the Metro and catch the train that was just

about to leave. You are still fighting for oxygen when the woman’s voice announces your stop.

8

Nathalie Verwijs as Girl at the Window, 2015.

Photographed by Lola Gasull Algas

You look rapidly at your watch and realise how late you are. You know the location of the

meeting place perfectly. You remember it from the hundreds of times you used to go there after

school, that was part of your old life, the one you left behind what seems a million years ago.

You quickly recognise your group of friends. You sit at their table and you notice with

disgust that a girl you used to hate is seated with them. Everyone says hello to you, but even if

two or three people sound truly excited about your presence, most of the table just keeps going

on with their trivial conversations. You look at everyone,

one by one, and you realise how everyone has changed

enormously. You never think of them as changed, it’s like

when you see a picture of yourself a year ago and you are

so different now that you seem to be someone else, but

when you see your reflection in your mirror daily you

cannot observe any variation at all. For the next hour you

soliloquise about your new awesome experiences and you

learn all the gossip of your old school. After a while you

start to get bored. You remember how marvellous these

reunions used to be, but now they just appear extremely

tedious. Your friends keep arguing about the same people,

the same places, the same problems. They are all still in

the same state of maturity while you have grown. You feel

like a misfit toy surrounded by puppets that have been

stuck in the same horrible routine for too long, used and

bored puppets. You do not belong here anymore.

When you understand this, you will also comprehend

that trying to be a complete part of your past is in

vain. You should be satisfied to have been part of it and to have moved on. You can only be in

one place at a time. You can only live one present. Stop thinking how fantastic your old life used

to be; because I will confess—it was not.

__________________________________________________________________________

The Green and the Grey

by Nyla Jamieson

I got in my car and went for a drive,

I went to the place where everything is green.

I saw houses made of wood

And roofs made of leaves.

One resident ran in without wiping his dirty

paws.

I went to the concert hall

Where the grass whispered,

The leaves rustled and the wind whistled

All in perfect harmony –

The best symphony I have ever heard.

I got in my car and went for a drive,

I went to the place where everything is grey:

I saw a forest made of concrete and brick,

And rivers made of tarmac,

Even the air was grey and heavy in my lungs.

I went to the one dot of green

Amongst this sea of grey.

There I found a wave of glass and plastic,

Thrown there when no longer wanted.

An old rusty swing stood lonely in the middle

Of the green covered in graffiti.

Although the green is a more beautiful place,

Grey is the favourite colour of our species.

We rip up and destroy the green concert hall

And replace it with rivers of tarmac.

I looked around at all the cruelty, crime and

carelessness.

I saw many humans but little humanity.

9

was going to portray him as. I initially passed on watchin

typical American war propaganda, this time about Iraq

several Oscars, I decided to see it

had enjoyed them (Gran Torino, Escape From Alcatraz, Jersey Boys

hope in my mind that this might just be a realistic story about the war in the

Despite my low expectations I was still left disappointed with the stupidity and ignorance

shown in the film. It was two hours of completely biased war propaganda.

about a so-called ‘hero’ who in reality is a southern A

murdering Iraqis. It turns the moral atrocity that was the invasion of Iraq into a simple fairy tale

following the life of one single man. Like many war movies,

of American soldiers to prevent people from worrying too much about what horrors the

Americans actually caused in Iraq (and stretching outside its borders).

even so, I wasn't planning on watchi

begins to regret shooting down so many

There are some points at which the film’s ridiculousness becomes too much to handle.

example is when Kyle, a muscular N

they watch the horrible footage of 9/11 live on the news. Next thing you know, he’s in Iraq

fighting ‘bad guys’ with his long range killing machine

connection was made between 9/

resulted in the war in question. Of course there had been no connection between Iraq and Al

Qaeda until the wrong country was terrorised by American troops, causing it to become a

breeding ground for… Al Qaeda.

Another example of cringe-worthy misrepresentation in the film is the moment at which

Kyle pulls the trigger on the antagonist of the film

small,’ Kyle whispers as he executes the enemy, as if

war on terror, keeping suicide bombers out of every city and town in America.

‘winning’ the war on terror.

The movie becomes a representation (in reality a mis

single soldier. The viewer ends up pondering Chris Kyle and his difficult life, not the innocent

civilians he killed, never mind the rich and powerful who put him in Iraq and told him to kill said

civilians in the first place. I was shocked at how brave and

the film as I was honestly quite disturbed by his real

a passage in the book where one fellow sniper in particular began to

number of confirmed kills, and ‘all of a su

stinkin' bad guy in the city running across my scope’

when the killing competition got close.

In summary, I would not recommend this film to anybody

brainwashed into thinking that Chris Kyle was some sort of role

Film Review:

American Sniper

Douglas Boyd Crotty

Having done some prior research on

the ‘hero’ of American Sniper

Kyle, I was reluctant to watch the

film. I had read passages from the

Navy SEAL’s autobiography where

he brags about ending the lives of

‘savages’ in Iraq and I was left with a

character who didn’t seem like the

American hero that I knew the film

I initially passed on watching the film, expecting it would be

typical American war propaganda, this time about Iraq. However, after it was nomi

see it. I had watched some of Clint Eastwood’s previous films and

Gran Torino, Escape From Alcatraz, Jersey Boys) so there was still a slight

ight just be a realistic story about the war in the Middle E


It was two hours of completely biased war propaganda. We are given a story

who in reality is a southern American psychopath who prides himself on

It turns the moral atrocity that was the invasion of Iraq into a simple fairy tale

following the life of one single man. Like many war movies, American Sniper


Americans actually caused in Iraq (and stretching outside its borders). I sort of expected this, but

even so, I wasn't planning on watching a movie about a proud killer who slowly (very slowly)

so many women and children.

There are some points at which the film’s ridiculousness becomes too much to handle.

ample is when Kyle, a muscular Navy SEAL is shirtless at home hugging his crying wife as


fighting ‘bad guys’ with his long range killing machine - you may remember the same illogical

11 and the Iraqi invasion by George Bush. That connection

Of course there had been no connection between Iraq and Al


r… Al Qaeda.

worthy misrepresentation in the film is the moment at which

Kyle pulls the trigger on the antagonist of the film - an evil Iraqi terrorist leader.

Kyle whispers as he executes the enemy, as if this was the single shot which ‘won’ the

war on terror, keeping suicide bombers out of every city and town in America.

The movie becomes a representation (in reality a mis-representation) of the character of a

The viewer ends up pondering Chris Kyle and his difficult life, not the innocent


I was shocked at how brave and heroic he was portrayed

as I was honestly quite disturbed by his real-life account. I was particularly horrified by

a passage in the book where one fellow sniper in particular began to threaten his ‘legendary’

all of a sudden’ Kyle seemed to have seemed to have ‘

e city running across my scope’—as in somehow his luck quickly changed

when the killing competition got close.

recommend this film to anybody - unless you want to be

brainwashed into thinking that Chris Kyle was some sort of role-model and the Iraqi invasion

10

Review:

American Sniper

Douglas Boyd Crotty

aving done some prior research on

American Sniper, Chris

Kyle, I was reluctant to watch the

I had read passages from the

’s autobiography where

he brags about ending the lives of

‘savages’ in Iraq and I was left with a

character who didn’t seem like the

American hero that I knew the film

g the film, expecting it would be

However, after it was nominated for

I had watched some of Clint Eastwood’s previous films and

) so there was still a slight

Middle East.


We are given a story

merican psychopath who prides himself on

It turns the moral atrocity that was the invasion of Iraq into a simple fairy tale

erican Sniper uses the struggles


I sort of expected this, but

ng a movie about a proud killer who slowly (very slowly)

There are some points at which the film’s ridiculousness becomes too much to handle. An

less at home hugging his crying wife as


you may remember the same illogical

. That connection

Of course there had been no connection between Iraq and Al


worthy misrepresentation in the film is the moment at which

evil Iraqi terrorist leader. ‘Aim small, hit

this was the single shot which ‘won’ the

war on terror, keeping suicide bombers out of every city and town in America. There is no

representation) of the character of a

The viewer ends up pondering Chris Kyle and his difficult life, not the innocent


heroic he was portrayed as being in

I was particularly horrified by

threaten his ‘legendary’

seemed to have seemed to have ‘every

somehow his luck quickly changed

unless you want to be

model and the Iraqi invasion

was some glorious liberation by the Americans. Even then, there is no story to this movie.

American kid Chris Kyle is good at shooting so he uses 9/11 as an excuse to join the Navy

SEALs and kill Iraqis in their living rooms. That is the whole story. The movie ends with real-

life footage of Chris Kyle’s widely-attended funeral (he was killed when he cleverly brought a

fellow soldier with PTSD to a firing range…) which slightly confuses me and angers me. This

part of the movie really made me wonder what message Clint Eastwood was trying to convey.

While Chris Kyle was doing his job ‘well’, I certainly don’t think he deserves to be glorified and

made out to be such an icon, and a hero - and most certainly not a role-model!

I think it is quite frankly a disgrace that this psychopath who in reality admitted to loving

shooting Iraqi civilians from safety is being glorified like this. Hollywood is once again being

used as a propaganda tool, just like it had been for such movies as Black Hawk Down in 2001

and Battleship in 2012, both of which received generous contributions from the US military for

obvious reasons.

American Sniper is truly a terrible movie with a ridiculously but unsurprisingly morally

misguided message. Anybody who has any sense of morality and prior knowledge of either

Chris Kyle or the Iraq war will undoubtedly hate this film like I do.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Rust

by Sam Lawrence

I am a bike left away to rust,

I used to ride around all day long,

But now I’m just scrap metal,

That’ll never get used.

I used to ride around smoothly

But now my wheels barely turn.

I used to be bright red

but now all I see is rust.

I wish I could go outside

And be out of this lonely shed.

I once competed in races,

I could hear the crowd cheering.

But now all I hear is silence.

My Grandmother’s Hands

by Rowan Sweeney

These were the hands that held

Me when I cried.

These were the hands that wiped

Away the tears while in pain.

These were the hands that gave

me money, sweets and love.

These were my Grandmother’s hands.

These were the hands that protected

Me when Mummy wasn’t there.

These were the hands whose hugs

could stop tears.

These were the hands that read me

Stories when I was afraid

To go to sleep.

These were my Grandmother’s hands.

These are the hands that are now

So cold.

These are the hands that have

grown old.

These are the hands that I will never

Hold.

These are my Grandmother’s hands.

11 Batik – Janet Boyd

NOW LOOK HERE!NOW LOOK HERE!NOW LOOK HERE!NOW LOOK HERE! The Referendum on The Referendum on The Referendum on The Referendum on Presidential AgePresidential AgePresidential AgePresidential Age

by Nyla Jamieson

In the recent referendum on lowering the presidential age

in Ireland from 35 to 21 the population of Ireland voted for

an overwhelming “No” with the final figures being 26.9%

“Yes” and 73.1% “No”. I think that this is a shame and that

the presidential age should have been lowered.

Many people voted “No” on the basis that a 21 year

old would be too young and inexperienced to be the

President of Ireland. However, at 21 you are allowed to

drink, to drive, to vote, to work and do pretty much

anything that a 35 year old can do. If a 21 year old is too

inexperienced to run for president then how come they can vote for others who can run?

Even if you still believe that 21 is too young, saying “Yes” in this referendum wouldn’t

necessarily be saying that the President has to be of that age. It would be still possible to have

voted for people that run of any age. The referendum would just have given people the

opportunity to run. This would have allowed for people of what is often seen as a mature age of

about 28 or so to run.

Often people at the age of 35 want to

settle down and aren’t as ambitious or as full

of life as younger people are. If you were a

ruler in a different country which country

would you rather deal with, a country whose

head of state is energetic and has big plans for

the development of his country or someone

like Michael D. Higgins? I have nothing

against Mr Higgins and think that he has done

a reasonable job as President. However, the

Irish economy needs help and we are still

only emerging from one of the deepest

recessions ever in recent history. We surely have to agree that Mr Higgins isn’t the most inviting

person and frankly, his being the head of state must make other countries see Ireland is old and

tired. We need better relations with other countries in order to strengthen our fragile economy.

Another point is to do with all those that voted “Yes” to the marriage referendum but

“No” to this one. The marriage referendum received a landslide “Yes” vote with 62.1% voting

“Yes” and 37.9% voting “No” Ireland is the first country in the world to vote “Yes” for same-

sex marriage and so it is a proud day for Ireland which has made world history. What I don’t

understand however, is how a person who is for equal rights between adults of differing sexual

orientations is, at the same time, not for equality between adults. Surely everyone who voted

“Yes” for same-sex marriage due to a belief in equality should have also voted “Yes” for the

presidential age referendum under the same flagship of their steadfast belief in equality for all.

It is my view that all adults, if they want to, should be permitted to run for election. You

do not have to vote for a person if you think that the individual is too immature but what harm

can there be in giving equal opportunities to all adults? Equality is a human right in the Universal

Declaration of Human Rights. I believe that there was no good reason for a “No” vote and had I

been able to vote, I would have, most certainly, voted “Yes”. I am disappointed that the

population of Ireland apparently disagrees.

12

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