Greetings, dear reader.
I am Nell, your humble guide through realms of prose and harmony.
Pray, let us embark upon a journey where literature stirs the soul and music enraptures the heart.
About this humble blog
Welcome to Echoes of Literature and Music, a collection most thoughtfully assembled to explore the harmonious intersection of literary works and modern melodies, curated with great care and discernment. This endeavor is born of my contemplations during a master's course in literature, wherein themes of chivalry, identity, feminism, and notions of home were studied with due reverence. By entwining each literary masterpiece with a corresponding melody, this blog aspires to offer an experience that gracefully unites the elegance of yesteryear with the vibrant cadence of contemporary music.
The playlist herein provided serves as both guide and companion through this exploration, presenting a thematic voyage across novels, poems, and prose. Each post shall attend to a particular pairing, unveiling reflections on how the chosen song enhances and elevates the sentiments, motifs, and messages inherent within the text.
Through these musings, I seek to cast light upon the enduring dialogue between literature and music, demonstrating that the resonances of classical and modern narratives echo more profoundly than one might first suppose.
Whether you are a devotee of the written word, a connoisseur of melodies, or a seeker intrigued by the interplay of art forms, I extend to you an invitation to join me on this contemplative odyssey. Each entry is crafted to stand as its own meditation, yet together, they weave a tapestry that extols the timeless power of story and song.
May your journey through these pages prove both enriching and delightful.
Yours most sincerely,
Nell
Knights and true men? Coldplay is that you?
Dear reader
In reflecting upon the trials and tribulations endured by Sir Gawain in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, my thoughts could not help but turn to Coldplay’s evocative anthem, "Viva La Vida". This melody, so deeply entwined with my childhood recollections—when my father and I would jubilantly sing it at the top of our lungs—once held a charm I could scarcely articulate. In those youthful days, unacquainted as I was with the English tongue, I delighted in the song’s cadence rather than its meaning. Yet as I grew, and my love for both music and language blossomed, so too did my appreciation for the song’s true depth.
Similarly, my early encounter with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, as the first poem I read upon commencing my studies, left me with but a faint impression of its significance. Only upon revisiting the work this year, through the lens of broader understanding, did I come to grasp the enduring relevance of its themes. Indeed, both the song and the poem unravel the complexities of chivalry—honor, downfall, and redemption—offering poignant portraits of individuals burdened by the weight of past actions and the inexorable demands of expectation.
"Viva La Vida" begins with the lament of a dethroned king, mourning his descent from power and the accompanying loss of control. Its lyrics, replete with images of grandeur and collapse—"I used to rule the world, seas would rise when I gave the word"—strike a chord with Sir Gawain’s narrative arc. Much like the fallen monarch, Gawain embarks upon his journey adorned in the trappings of virtue, only to confront the humbling reality of his own fallibility when tested by the Green Knight.
The song’s recurrent refrain of regret and longing mirrors Gawain’s own inner turmoil following his acceptance of the girdle—a token born of fear and frailty. Though his life is spared, he cannot elude the blemish upon his honor. His confession of shame before King Arthur’s court lays bare the universal struggle with imperfection. In much the same way, the dethroned king of "Viva La Vida" wrestles with the repercussions of his choices and the inevitability of mortality, acknowledging that even the mightiest of powers are ephemeral.
Both narratives further probe questions of legacy and accountability. Gawain’s quest compels him to confront his humanity, illustrating that the pursuit of perfection is fraught with peril. "Viva La Vida" echoes this sentiment, underscoring the fragility of power and the haunting reverberations of past misdeeds. Each character must endure judgment—not merely from the world, but from the depths of their own conscience.
In uniting Sir Gawain and the Green Knight with "Viva La Vida", I am reminded that the pursuit of virtue is neither singular nor static. Rather, it is an ongoing pilgrimage of reflection and growth. Whether through the chivalric trials of medieval verse or the modern strains of melody, these tales remind us that failure does not foreclose redemption; instead, it invites us to embrace vulnerability as an intrinsic element of the human experience.
Yours truly,
Nell
A Place to Belong? Austen and Edward Sharpe?
Dearest Reader,
Permit me to confess that upon my first acquaintance with Miss Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, I found myself perplexed, uncertain whether I truly appreciated the novel’s deeper import. It was with modest expectations that I entered the lecture hall, only to be utterly transported by Dr. Dashwood’s profound insights into the theme of finding a home within the text. A revelation, indeed—one that feels remarkably pertinent in the ever-changing world of a young woman’s life. It was amidst this newfound appreciation that my thoughts turned to the melody of "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, a song whose tender and wistful strains echo the novel’s exploration of displacement and renewal.
Sense and Sensibility commences with the Dashwood ladies’ sudden expulsion from their ancestral estate, Norland Park, and their subsequent quest for a new beginning. Their dislocation—both physical and emotional—finds an apt parallel in the lyrics of "Home". The refrain, “Home is wherever I’m with you,” speaks profoundly to the sisters’ longing for stability, culminating in their discovery of solace not merely in a house but in one another’s company.
The harmonious duet of Jade Castrinos and Alexander Ebert stirs a sense of nostalgia and yearning, much akin to Austen’s portrayal of Marianne’s unguarded romanticism and Elinor’s steadfast composure. As the sisters navigate the trials of settling at Barton Cottage, they are compelled to redefine what home truly signifies—whether as a physical refuge or an emotional sanctuary.
The recurring motif of "Home"—woven with themes of love, memory, and return—mirrors the Dashwoods’ emotional odyssey. In their humble new abode, they rebuild their lives, forging bonds and uncovering strength amidst adversity. Much like the song’s celebration of the enduring power of connection, Austen reminds us that home is not simply a structure of bricks and mortar but a sanctuary of hope, love, and resilience.
Both narratives grapple with the tension between nostalgia and adaptation. Marianne’s unguarded sentimentality mirrors the raw vulnerability expressed in the melody’s lyrics, while Elinor’s measured resolve echoes the steadiness underlying the song’s refrain. Through these journeys, Austen and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros impart a timeless lesson—that home is less a destination than a state of heart and mind, shaped by love, memory, and perseverance.
In pairing Sense and Sensibility with "Home", I think of my own voyage of discovery when I first moved to Ghent. There, I found comfort not merely in the city’s beauty but, more importantly, in the cherished company of those who surrounded me. Thus, whether through Austen’s elegant prose or the gentle strains of "Home", we are reminded that true belonging lies not in grandeur but in the bonds that sustain us through life’s ever-shifting tides.
Yours ever faithfully,
Nell
A Poetic Battlefield
Dearest Reader,
Has it ever come to mind that few themes have lingered so resolutely in the realms of art and literature as the tempestuous nature of love? Its triumphs, its tribulations, and its inexorable entanglements with power and vulnerability? In pondering this timeless motif, within the lense of Donne’s “Love’s War” and Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy” my mind guided me to Pat Benatar’s “Love Is a Battlefield”. I remember how my teacher implemented this song in my secondary school’s religion course when I was twelve years old, telling us how this song is relevant today due to love’s power to transform, unveiling its intricacies through the lens of struggle and defiance.
"Love’s War" presents love as a force both intoxicating and ruinous, likening romantic passion to the chaos of battle. The poem’s imagery conjures the ceaseless tension between desire and despair, portraying love, literally, as a battlefield where hearts are both vanquished and reclaimed. Similarly, "Daddy" reveals the psychological tumult born of love and resentment, with Plath exposing the dark undercurrents of dependence and domination. The speaker’s ultimate defiance—her severance from paternal authority—mirrors the rebellion and vulnerability so evocatively captured in Benatar’s lyrics.
Pat Benatar’s "Love Is a Battlefield" offers a contemporary refrain to these poetic reflections, its driving rhythms and impassioned vocals underscoring the conflicts intrinsic to love. The lyrics, “We are strong, no one can tell us we’re wrong,” echo the resilience and resolve voiced by Plath’s speaker as she casts off the oppressive chains of paternal influence. Likewise, the song’s portrayal of emotional warfare resonates deeply with the imagery of combat and surrender found in "Love’s War", affirming that love often demands both sacrifice and valor.
Despite their varied forms and epochs, these works collectively examine the paradox of love as both a source of vulnerability and strength. "Love’s War" and "Daddy" delve into deeply personal struggles—whether romantic or familial—while "Love Is a Battlefield" situates this strife within a broader cultural narrative. Each composition reminds us that love, though fraught with conflict, compels us to fight, to endure, and, ultimately, to rise.
Benatar’s defiant anthem and both literary texts illustrate that love’s battlefield knows no bounds of time or place. Whether rendered in verse or voiced through melody, the struggles of love remain eternal, universal, and profoundly human.
Yours ever devotedly,
Nell
Who, Truly, Holds the Pen?
Dearest Reader,
Pray, allow me to escort you into a realm where the quill falters, and the ink of authority runs dry. The matter of authorship and dominion over meaning has long provoked spirited discourse among scholars and thinkers alike. Roland Barthes’ provocative treatise, "The Death of the Author" questions the true authority of each author, pointing to the essence of identity. Before, it never came to mind that Radiohead’s “Creep” implements the same themes, raising the question—who indeed holds the pen?
Barthes, in his daring assertion, declares the author’s demise, stripping the creator of sovereignty and placing the text’s destiny into the hands of its reader. Thus, meaning becomes fluid, unfixed, and ever malleable. So too does the plaintive voice of "Creep" lament a lack of agency, its anguished refrain—“I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo, what the hell am I doing here?”—echoing the insecurity of one bereft of authority over their own tale. Both works stand as monuments to fragility, exploring the tension between longing for acceptance and surrendering control.
Barthes entreats us to sever the chains binding meaning to authorship, granting liberty to interpretation’s endless evolution. In much the same vein, "Creep" portrays a soul adrift, whose identity is sculpted as much by external scrutiny as by internal yearning. This pairing reveals the unsettling truth that both text and self are ever-changing, subject to forces beyond their origin.
Much like Barthes’ assertion that a text’s meaning is reborn with each reading, "Creep" reminds us that identity, too, is not fixed but ever in flux. Its confessional tones mirror the vulnerability found in Barthes’ argument—the relinquishment of control and the embrace of ambiguity.
Stories, whether penned upon parchment or sung in lament, resist confinement, compelling us to release the reins of rigid interpretation. They make us surrender to the beauty of multiplicity, for meaning and identity, like love and time, forever refuse to be mastered.
Yours in contemplation,
Nell
The Power of Creation: Women Who Write Their Own Stories
Dearest Reader,
There exists a certain magic in creation—a power to craft not only words and art but the very essence of one’s self. Such is the gift bestowed upon women who dare to imagine, to write, to dream. In the pages of Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman and Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper, we witness the defiance of women who wield their pens like swords, reclaiming autonomy in a world that sought to bind them. And what modern anthem could echo this rebellion better than Lesley Gore’s "You Don’t Own Me"?
Wollstonecraft, that fiery revolutionary of intellect, laid the foundation for feminism by demanding that women be seen as rational beings, not ornamental playthings. Her prose thrums with a righteous anger, a refusal to accept the limits imposed upon her sex. Centuries later, Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper would give us a quieter rebellion, its unnamed heroine unraveling the restraints of patriarchy, even as her mind descends into madness. What unites these voices across time is their refusal to be silenced, their insistence on carving out a space to create—to think, to write, to live.
You Don’t Own Me, with its bold, declarative refrain, feels like the battle cry of these women. Lesley Gore’s voice soars with unrelenting conviction: “Don’t tell me what to do, don’t tell me what to say.” In Wollstonecraft’s treatise, this defiance becomes an intellectual call to arms, urging women to reject societal expectations and embrace their capacity for reason. Gilman’s heroine, confined to a stifling domestic prison, mirrors this sentiment through her desperate act of creation—writing forbidden words, peeling back wallpaper to uncover a freedom that the physical world denies her.
To create, dear reader, is an act of rebellion in itself. For Wollstonecraft, it was the creation of a manifesto that challenged the very fabric of her society. For Gilman, it was the haunting narrative of a woman who refuses to be consumed by silence. And for Gore, it was the song that inspired countless women to reclaim their voices, their agency, their lives.
Yet, let us not forget that this act of creation is not without its cost. Wollstonecraft faced scorn, Gilman was dismissed as “hysterical,” and even Gore’s anthem, bold as it was, existed in an era that struggled to embrace the autonomy it championed. Still, their legacy endures, a testament to the resilience of women who create—not only art but possibility itself.
In uniting these voices from literature and music, we see the boundless power of women who dare to write their own stories. They remind us that creation is the ultimate act of defiance.
So, my dearest reader, let us honour these women who create by picking up our pens, our brushes, our instruments, and joining their chorus. Let us declare, in word and deed, “You don’t own me.” For in creation lies freedom, and in freedom lies the power to shape the world anew.
Yours ever defiantly,
Nell
Nature's Lament: Romanticism and Ecological Reverence
Dearest Reader,
The sublime beauty of the natural world has long stirred the hearts of poets and philosophers, inspiring reflections that transcend mere admiration to probe deeper questions of humanity’s place within creation. In contemplating such themes, I found myself drawn to three seminal works—Charlotte Smith’s "The Swallow", William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s "Preface to Lyrical Ballads", and John Keats’s "Ode to a Nightingale". To my astonishment, their timeless meditations find harmonious accord with Michael Jackson’s modern plea, "Earth Song", a song I remember singing when I was eight years old in a choir. Back then, I was stunned as I realised how often we take nature for granted. Now, at twenty-two, I acknowledge the power of these texts and melodies that weave a tapestry of reverence, lament, and longing—a call to honor and protect the natural world we so often take for granted.
Smith’s "The Swallow" delicately observes the migratory bird as a symbol of transience and renewal, urging readers to marvel at nature’s rhythms while confronting the fragility of its wonders. In a similar vein, the "Preface to Lyrical Ballads" champions poetry that elevates ordinary rural life, finding profound beauty and moral instruction within nature’s simplicity. Keats’s "Ode to a Nightingale", meanwhile, offers a more melancholic meditation, as the speaker yearns to escape human suffering and find solace in nature’s eternal song. These Romantic visions of harmony and despair resonate deeply with "Earth Song"’s mournful cry over environmental devastation and humanity’s estrangement from the natural world.
Jackson’s refrain, “What about us?”, echoes the Romantic poets’ anxieties over human encroachment and destruction. Like Smith’s gentle admiration of the swallow, the song laments a severed bond with the earth, imploring listeners to rekindle reverence for its beauty. The "Lyrical Ballads"’ insistence on portraying humble, natural subjects aligns with Jackson’s plea for awareness, urging us to see ourselves as stewards rather than masters of creation. Keats’s melancholic longing for transcendence mirrors Jackson’s sorrow, both works grieving losses inflicted upon nature and yearning for a return to harmony.
Despite their differences in form and era, these works collectively call for reflection upon humanity’s relationship with the natural world. From the lyrical musings of Romantic poets to Jackson’s impassioned ballad, they remind us that nature’s voice, though eternal, grows ever fainter amidst human neglect. Their combined message is clear: we must not merely admire nature’s beauty but strive to preserve and protect it, lest its song be silenced forever.
This connection maked me realise that art—be it poetry or melody—carries the power to awaken both wonder and responsibility. May we heed their call to cherish and safeguard the earth, ensuring that its beauty endures for generations to come.
Yours ever thoughtfully,
Nell
Of Tunes and Tempests: The Music of Adaptation
Dearest Reader,
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a classic tale, retold with care, reveals new harmonies within its enduring melody. Thus, Margaret Atwood’s Hag-Seed, her brilliant reimagining of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, serves not only as a modern lens through which we may view Prospero's plight but also as an ode to the art of adaptation itself. Yet, what fascinates this humble writer most is the role of music, both in the text and in its larger narrative of transformation.
Atwood, much like a composer reworking a timeless piece, embraces the rhythm of Shakespeare’s tale and remixes it for contemporary ears. In Hag-Seed, Felix—our modern-day Prospero—finds himself orchestrating a revenge plot through a prison theater production of The Tempest. Music becomes his co-conspirator, a bridge between the old and the new, threading Shakespeare’s themes of betrayal, magic, and redemption through the cadences of modern life.
One cannot help but be reminded of the transformative power of adaptation in music itself. Consider, for instance, Diana Ross’s empowering anthem, "I’m Coming Out". A song of self-assertion and liberation, its joyful defiance feels right at home in Felix’s journey toward reclaiming his own narrative. Yet, this same melody finds an entirely new meaning when remixed and reimagined by The Notorious B.I.G. in "Mo Money Mo Problems". Here, the exuberance of Ross’s original becomes a commentary on the complexities of success and ambition in a world driven by excess. The song remains familiar, yet its purpose shifts, as if a spell has been cast over its essence, much like Atwood’s spell over Shakespeare’s island.
In Hag-Seed, the prisoners who perform The Tempest give voice to their own stories, just as Felix reclaims his identity through the play. Music, much like Atwood’s prose, becomes a space where past and present collide, where old narratives find new resonance. Shakespeare’s verses are transformed into rap battles, each lyric a talisman of power, defiance, and resilience. This echoes Ross’s anthem, reimagined in Biggie’s world—a reinvention that reminds us of the malleability of art.
It is fitting, then, that Atwood’s adaptation, so deeply rooted in themes of transformation, should find kinship with the transformative power of music. Felix’s production of The Tempest is not merely a retelling; it is a reclamation, much like how Diana Ross’s triumphant cry of independence was reclaimed by Biggie to tell a different story altogether. Both acts—one literary, the other musical—invite us to see the familiar through a new lens, to hear the echoes of the past in the pulse of the present.
I would like to end on this note, as we are reminded, dear reader, that adaptation whether on the stage or in song, is not a theft but a gift. It is an invitation to dance with the ghosts of old stories, to remix and reimagine, to find in the known something utterly new. And as we wade through the tempest of life, let us carry these melodies with us, knowing that art, like music, is ever-changing, ever-adapting, and ever-lasting.
Yours ever musically,
Nell
Echoes of Literature and Music
Welcome to Echoes of Literature and Music, a collection most thoughtfully assembled to explore the harmonious intersection of literary works and modern melodies, curated with great care and discernment. This playlist serves as both a guide and companion through this exploration!
Which grief archetype are you?
Discover which poetic voice of grief and reflection you embody and find your perfect song match!
Question 1: How do you respond to loss?
a) I withdraw into myself, reflecting on what I’ve lost.
b) I find solace in the quiet dignity of nature or community.
c) I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the world’s sorrow.
Question 2: Where do you feel most at peace?
a) Walking alone through a stormy landscape.
b) Sitting in a quiet graveyard or a tranquil countryside.
c) Listening to the soft rustling of leaves or a gentle rain.
Question 3: How do you view the passage of time?
a) It’s a painful reminder of what I’ve lost.
b) It brings perspective, helping me honor those who’ve come before.
c) It’s bittersweet, as the beauty of life fades so quickly.
Question 4: What do you seek in moments of grief?
a) Connection with others who understand my loss.
b) A reminder that life, though fleeting, has meaning.
c) A way to express my sorrow and find closure.
Question 5: Which image speaks to you most?
a) A lone traveler in a vast, misty landscape.
b) A weathered gravestone beneath a towering oak tree.
c) A rain-soaked flower wilting in a meadow.
Results
Mostly A’s: The Exiled Wanderer
You are The Wanderer, a voice of solitude and longing. Loss feels isolating, but you find strength in reflection and resilience. Your journey is both physical and emotional, searching for a place to belong.
Your Song: "Somewhere I Belong" by Linkin Park
The melancholy lyrics and reflective tone capture your solitary path and enduring hope.
Mostly B’s: The Reflective Elegist
You are the voice of Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. You find meaning in honoring the past, recognizing the dignity of life’s quiet moments. Though grief is heavy, you draw strength from the cycles of nature and humanity.
Your Song: "Fields of Gold" by Sting.
This nostalgic and poetic melody mirrors your reverence for life’s beauty and transience.
Mostly C’s: The Mourning Dirge
You are the lamenting voice of A Dirge. Deeply attuned to the sorrow in the world, you feel loss profoundly. However, your grief is a form of connection, tying you to nature and others who mourn.
Your Song: "Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M.
The comforting refrain reminds you that grief, though overwhelming, is shared by all.
Which Villette Character Are You?
Discover which complex, flawed, and fascinating character from Charlotte Brontë’s Villette you align with—and find your personal theme song to match!
1. How do you handle conflict?
a) Retreat inward and analyze every detail later.
b) Confront it head-on, but regret it afterward.
c) Deflect with charm and wit, even if it hides your insecurity.
d) Play the long game—quietly strategizing for control.
2. What motivates you the most?
a) The need for independence and survival.
b) Recognition and validation, even if you won’t admit it.
c) Love and passion, though you may fear vulnerability.
d) Power and influence—you want to shape your own fate.
3. How do you cope with failure?
a) Accept it as inevitable but work harder in silence.
b) Dwell on it, questioning every move you made.
c) Mask it with confidence and move forward, no matter the scars.
d) Manipulate circumstances until failure feels like success.
4. What’s your greatest fear?
a) Being invisible—unseen and unrecognized.
b) Betrayal by someone you trusted completely.
c) Losing control over your carefully constructed life.
d) Never achieving your ambitions, no matter how hard you try.
5. Choose a quote that speaks to you:
a) “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.” – Charlotte Brontë
b) “We are all fools in love.” – Jane Austen
c) “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” – Shakespeare
d) “I am deliberate and afraid of nothing.” – Audre Lorde
Results:
Mostly A’s – Lucy Snowe
Song: "Human" by Rag'n'Bone Man
You are thoughtful, introspective, and fiercely independent. Though life often feels like an uphill battle, you persevere with quiet strength. Like Lucy, you wrestle with loneliness and desire but refuse to let others define you. Your song reminds you it’s okay to be flawed—and human.
Mostly B’s – Dr. John Graham Bretton
Song: "Somebody That I Used to Know" by Gotye
You crave admiration and love but often struggle to see beyond appearances. Like Dr. John, you’re charming yet blind to deeper truths until it’s too late. Your song reflects your journey of loss and realization, showing that even the most polished exteriors can hide cracks.
Mostly C’s – Ginevra Fanshawe
Song: "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga
Bold, dramatic, and unapologetically self-serving, you charm others effortlessly—even if your motives are questionable. Ginevra’s playful yet manipulative streak mirrors your ability to captivate and survive. Your song celebrates rebellion and desire, but it warns of the dangers of toxic connections.
Mostly D’s – Monsieur Paul Emanuel
Song: "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day
Passionate yet controlling, you strive for perfection and authority, masking insecurities beneath your intensity. Like Monsieur Paul, you wrestle with vulnerability but remain fiercely loyal. Your song reflects your solitary struggles and the longing for connection beneath your sharp exterior.