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Helen Charman
Helen Charman is a writer and academic based in Glasgow. Her first book, Mother State – a political history of motherhood — is forthcoming from Allen Lane in 2024. She teaches in the English Studies department at Durham University.

Articles Available Online


Attachment Barbies: On Watching Grey’s Anatomy

Essay

March 2023

Helen Charman

Essay

March 2023

In August 2022, ABC announced that Ellen Pompeo, currently the highest-paid actress on American network television, was leaving Grey’s Anatomy, the show on which...

Book Review

May 2021

HOLDING THE ROOM: ON HOLLY PESTER’S ‘COMIC TIMING’

Helen Charman

Book Review

May 2021

The last poem in Holly Pester’s first collection COMIC TIMING (Granta, 2021) is called ‘Villette’; it shares its title...

Picture    Adam has just tasted the forbidden fruit; he’s bitten into the apple and he’s condemned to roll it in his mouth for eternity His mouth, wide open, is bitter The gigantic size of the apple matches in scale the enormity of the sin The same colour as the apple, a flower Looked at closely, this flower is a face What face? Sisyphus, who’s generally reduced in the mind’s eye, wrongly, to a stubborn boulder, was a crafty man, so crafty that the wordsmiths have claimed he was the father of Ulysses Wily, twisting, labyrinthine, craftiness evokes nets, laces, snares, knots And indeed, Sisyphus succeeded in chaining Thanatos who’d come to escort him to the kingdom of the dead    He’s the only mortal to have succeeded at this unheard-of exploit: cheating Death, ensnaring him, reducing him to powerlessness, to such a degree that the Immortals, jealous of their privilege, come to Death’s rescue and set him free On a corner of the apple, a squirrel… no, a hobgoblin… or rather, a bird It’s indifferent to the torments of Adam-Sisyphus and the symbolic implications of this picture    Indifferent, too, to the spectator    *   The Black Mantle    After killing the Minotaur, Theseus succeeded in getting out of the labyrinth thanks to the thread of Ariadne – Ariadne whom he would abandon (the ungrateful wretch!) on a desert island   These days, the labyrinth is empty and silent   All the same, the shadow of the Minotaur floats there, disconsolate and threatening – all in vain The shadow yearns to be set free, but it doesn’t know how to leave this sinister place and rejoin the kingdom of the dead So it continues to wander, without respite, in the inextricability of the labyrinth From time to time, it knocks into other shadows, those of its victims    On Olympus, the gods, gathered together on the occasion of a banquet, turn to Thanatos and ask him why he did he not escort the Minotaur to Hell Wrapped in his black mantle, Thanatos timidly lowers his eyes and does not answer   So the gods leave with a huge burst

Contributor

November 2017

Helen Charman

Contributor

November 2017

Helen Charman is a writer and academic based in Glasgow. Her first book, Mother State – a political history...

Essay

May 2020

Where do I put myself, if public life’s destroyed? On reading Denise Riley

Helen Charman

Essay

May 2020

How do you read someone who doesn’t always want to be read? This is a question I used to...

Sally Rooney’s ‘Normal People’

Book Review

October 2018

Helen Charman

Book Review

October 2018

Reading Sally Rooney’s second novel Normal People is a compulsive experience. After the navy blue Faber & Faber proofs were sent out in early...
Rendering intimacy impossible, deploy lifeboats (mark yourself safe) Not listening as such, more waiting to speak, above all mark yourself, it’s so important to be safe Carry on, they demand, we’re not reeling / we are reeling Is this the place for a fountain reference? Probably ‘What first attracted you to your wife, sir?’ ‘Her delicacy / her ankles / her hatred of the Tories’                  Alive twice over but that’s a whole life gone too                you know I’m sorry, he holds his hands up, I’m                sorry, he backs away: my conscience couldn’t                keep company with your body I say, your body?                it just made me think: it’s only a nine month stay   The next time you lay a hand on me, I’ll make a perfect gleaming dive into the Thames Aren’t you glad / to be here? I am
Electioneering

Prize Entry

November 2017

Helen Charman


READ NEXT

poetry

May 2014

Two Poems from Grun-tu-molani

Vidyan Ravinthiran

poetry

May 2014

The Sky there was a uniform inactive grey, except when stared at through a chainlink fence; those who could...

fiction

January 2017

Oh You

Keller Easterling

fiction

January 2017

You won’t be able to do it. It is a call, and it is something you only know how...

feature

January 2016

Suite

Pierre Senges

TR. Jacob Siefring

feature

January 2016

‘Suite’ was born of an invitation Pierre Senges received to contribute to an anthology on the future of the novel (Devenirs...

 

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