A stellar Gothic romance set in 19th century New Zealand.
This has to be one of my all-time favourite films so I was guaranteed to enjoy the memories oA stellar Gothic romance set in 19th century New Zealand.
This has to be one of my all-time favourite films so I was guaranteed to enjoy the memories of the film, but I missed the superb accompanying Michael Nyman soundtrack and accompanying visual imagery which make it such a fantastic film, notwithstanding some excellent acting.
The screenplay feels almost bland by comparison missing the dank, dark, tropical feel of the native bush setting; the noise of the native fauna so foreign to the Scottish immigrants, Ada accompanied by her daughter, Flora, who is essentially a mail order bride to Alasdair Stewart, a run-holder and early settler. He is accompanied by Baines, a trader, translator and general fixer who is able to converse in "te reo"▪︎ as well as members of a local Maori tribe largely only conversant in their own language and covered in a variety of "moko"•
Ada is mute but has perfect hearing and has come accompanied with a Broadbent baby grand piano, which she plays with exquisite ability. Flora, her 10 year old illegitimate daughter, is her mother's mouth-piece and interpreter.
The dialogue is notable for the extensive use of "te reo" which gives an air of authenticity to both its time-frame but also the cocky, insouciant indigenous language in comparison to the stilted, diffident English spoken by the immigrants.
Soon, a love triangle develops which immerses the adult participants with emotion, violence and tragedy interwoven through early settler experiences and indigenous conflicts.
Throughout this, the piano features heavily both as a prop, a tool and a weapon. Also it allows the use of music to express language and emotion. Necessarily lacking this expression diminished the screenplay somewhat but allowed the focus to remain on the spoken dialogue, which is somewhat reduced by having one mute actor!
This biography of June Carter Cash, written by her son, doesn't pull any punches about his mother, She is described as a loWalking Beside The Linesman
This biography of June Carter Cash, written by her son, doesn't pull any punches about his mother, She is described as a loyal, generous, down to earth, hardworking, fun-loving, God-fearing woman of the Appalachian mountains who grew up in the first family of country music, the Carter family.
I had the pleasure of meeting her and the Carter Cash family once, in a surgery waiting room of all places in June, 1994. Johnny had come to play the main stage at Glastonbury and was staying at Jane Seymour's swanky holiday house locally. My daughter had a nasty dose of conjunctivitis and we arrived to the duty Doctor's surgery to find the Carter Cash family in residence in this single doctor practice one Saturday afternoon.
My daughter was 2 and wearing her pink party frock as we were heading back to my son's birthday party. Despite her florid red eyes, she was as high as a kite and proceeded to run riot in the waiting room, egged on by June! Johnny ignored her thankfully and had his nose in the paper whilst I was wanting the ground to dissolve beneath my feet! I was mortified and the little minx would not be controlled in any shape or form! Having said that, she was very happy and quite cute with it with pale blond curls and a very engaging giggle! So, my one brush with celebrity, in all its mundanity!
So, to the book which, of course, I was interested in. John writes reasonably well albeit with honesty and compassion. However, despite all the evangelical Christianity,(they were friends of the Grahams), I was surprised that all the family suffered from long-term drug +/- alcohol addiction to a varying degree. Johnny's issues were wellknown although he actually died from a neurological disease aggravated by rampant diabetes. June predeceased him following cardiac surgery. Unfortunately, John's half-sister died from a drug overdose just a month or so later.
Despite these flaws, both parents have left their indelible mark on the American country music scene and John has become a successful producer. Given June's ability to engage with people, it surprises me little that her funeral was attended by the best part of two thousand people. However, I really have sympathy for children who grow up in families with very successful artistic parents as clearly they too are thrust into the cultural environment of behavioural excess and wayward habits.
This was a much vaunted novel here in my neck of the woods so I shelled out a little more than I normally would on a preloved book and inSailing Away!
This was a much vaunted novel here in my neck of the woods so I shelled out a little more than I normally would on a preloved book and indulged myself.
I can confirm that it's a great debut novel and I was impressed by its plot and the machinations of the protagonists. The writer has written a really good taut thriller which maintains its suspense to the bitter end. To this non-sailor, the setting of crossing the Indian Ocean and the descriptions rang true.
I've cheated, I confess, as this was the only book of the Slough House series that I could get my hands on. LikeSlow Horses Head Into The Countryside
I've cheated, I confess, as this was the only book of the Slough House series that I could get my hands on. Like an addict, I had to have my next fix of Mick Herron's Slough House series! So from #1, I've gone to #6 and there's undoubtedly some changes that I've leapfrogged.
However, Roddy Ho is still there and as sociopathic as ever but meets with a very amusing practical joke that still has me in stitches...River Cartwright is mourning his grandfather as the OB has finally kicked the bucket and his antecedents turn up, which adds flesh to his bones.
Jackson Lamb is as notorious as ever; Lady Di as unpleasant and Catherine Standish and Louisa Guy feel more rounded. The new guy, Lech Wicinski feels more like a cold fish so it will be interesting to see how things transpire?
The plot is satisfactory and I was carried along drawing parallels to Steig Larsson's last book of the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, with which it shares some similarities although I preferred the Nordic noir version, I would have to confess.
All in all, a few more characters, an enlivening unputdownable read and the fix is sufficient, just, till another of the series appears!...more
This is my first exposure to Anita Shreve, and I have to admit that she's a skilled writer who's drawn, in this book, some excellA Mysterious Betrayal
This is my first exposure to Anita Shreve, and I have to admit that she's a skilled writer who's drawn, in this book, some excellent details on the mother-daughter relationship. The teenaged daughter, Matti, is convincingly drawn as is the protagonist's with her own grandmother, although her own dead mother, less so. The relationship with the missing husband, the pilot, Jack, is appropriate although I was perplexed by the absence of other peers in the story? For someone who worked as a high school teacher in the community, her apparent isolation appeared false. At times, I was perplexed by her language. It's beautifully compelling but somehow the information's absent. I was struggling for details of time and place, even season initially.
Which brings me to the plot, which is its major downfall. The scenario is superb, it's an interesting story. A plane's gone down, her husband's the pilot, and ultimately potentially responsible, if machinery failure is excluded. The stakes are high and the first part of the book is high on suspense. Sadly, it doesn't maintain the suspense in a meaningful fashion, the denouement feels trite and inappropriate as though the writer lost her way and, ultimately, this reader felt a sense of betrayal!
I realise that my perspective may be coloured by my enthusiasm for spy stories and thrillers but I suppose my knowledge of recent Irish history makes me seriously doubt the confession in a very public place!
Still, overall, a good read. I'll read another one of her stories some other time.
This controversial legend has made his mark on New Zealand culture for numerous reasons. Primarily for an Rotorua's Prodigal Son-Childhood and Beyond!
This controversial legend has made his mark on New Zealand culture for numerous reasons. Primarily for an international audience, because he exposed the underbelly of life here in our largest city with its gangs and behaviour, its attitudes and effects through his remarkable first novel, "Once Were Warriors". However, he's more known recently locally for his opinionated columns in the NZ Herald as well as his recent return from overseas and his philanthropic "Books in Homes" foundation.
Now, I have to confess that Jake "The Muss" Heke as acted by the wonderful Temuera Morrison leaves me queasy so I cannot yet bring myself to read his trilogy of toxic masculinity. However, his opinions are always worth mulling over and the man has "balls". He calls out BS when he sees it and rightly so. So, I was fascinated by the promise of this book.
And, indeed, he's written a good memoir which really does expose his inflences and early life story(whakapapa). The dysfunctional relationship between his diffident logical scientist Pakeha(white European) father and his Maori mother, a clash of opposing personality types strained beyond belief by the demon drink. Growing up in a state housing locality with an extended whanau(family) of indigenous Maori, he brings to life the freedom but also the perils of existence; the highs and lows; the perks and the pitfalls of such an environment high in social and sporting culture but low in enthusiasm for educational and intellectual pursuits. It's definitely an illuminating read.
His descriptions of his running away (which were actually a desire for adventure) together with his refusal of authority sadly precipitated his detention in Borstal, state care and Young Offenders' institutions but even so, his adult life saw him achieve a trade of installing insulation, at which he clearly excelled.
His writing, however did not commence until his jail term in the UK for white collar crime-cheque fraud. He finally achieved the discipline he needed to utilise all those characters he'd met in the criminal fraternity whom he had spent a few years being exposed to.
In terms of literature, it's an undemanding read convincingly told, enhancing empathy. He's not looking for your sympathy and he doesn’t spare criticism of his own activities. It's difficult to assess his literary influences would be my only regret and that may well reflect his culture of denial of self-promotion.
A great introduction to strong GBS female characters.
This book was a great follow-up to the first play of GBS' that I read, "Heartbreak House". I havA great introduction to strong GBS female characters.
This book was a great follow-up to the first play of GBS' that I read, "Heartbreak House". I have to confess that I preferred all these and have written individual reviews at length which I won't repeat here, bar the individual ratings.
However, what's even better, is the context provided for the plays by a varying number of authors as well as annotated criticism from GBS scholars. I have to confirm that all the plays improved from this position of enhanced background setting and found each play interesting and alluring to see live. It's definitely encouraged me to search out those Norton Critical Editions, for sure!
I had enjoyed Claire Tomalin's introduction to her curated collection of "Katherine Mansfield's Short StoriA Tragic Life Blighted by Manipulative Men.
I had enjoyed Claire Tomalin's introduction to her curated collection of "Katherine Mansfield's Short Stories", a writer I really esteem, so was on the lookout for some of her biographies and a copy of this has just come to hand. I devoured it immediately and can confirm that her writing continues to impress me, despite her exhaustive, exacting attention to detail.(1/4 of the book is given over to extensive notes, appendices, references, bibliography AND an index!).
Initially, the first chapters feel a trudge but once I ignored the comprehensive annotation, concentrated on the pages in front of me and explored the occasional footnote, I began to revel in this well-documented history of the finest comic actress of the Regency period in the British Isles. There are also really good representative photographs of her characterisations particularly her theatrical parts, of which her cross-dressing performances were the most notorious. Even Jane and Cassandra Austen saw her in person and she was wellknown to Fanny Burney, Samuel Taylor Coleridge et al.
As William Hazlitt commented(when comparing her daughter, Fanny's performance as Rosalind, unfavourably to that of her mother):
'Mrs Jordan's excellencies were all natural to her; it was not as an actress, but as herself, that she charmed everyone. Nature has formed her in most prodigal humour, and when nature is in the humour to make a woman all that is delightful, she does it most effectually. Mrs Jordan was the same in all her characters, and inimitable in all of them, because there was no one else like her.
Her face, her tears, her manners were irresistible. Her smile had the effect of sunshine, and her laugh did one good to hear it. Her voice was eloquence itself: it seemed as if her heart was always at her mouth. She was all gaiety, openness and good nature. She rioted in her fine animal spirits, and gave more pleasure than any other actress, because she had the greatest spirit of enjoyment in herself.'
Unfortunately, that reputation put her always within reach of the rapacious clutches of the men who frequented the stage and the footlights, and despite her mother's experiences of an identical but less successful career, Dora/Dorothea was destined to follow in her path of multiple failed relationships with men. These ranged from her first seducer/rapist who was a married theatre manager with a pregnant wife to a prince of the realm who subsequently became King William IV.
She ended up after 2 decades of living with the latter, being despatched from her family stately home, and was no longer able to care for the 10 living children she had by him. Prior to this, she had another 3 children by a couple of other men who had continued the stain of illegitimacy to the subsequent generation. And had had other pregnancies resulting in miscarriages as well. Despite her 25 years of ceaseless pregnancies, she had worked incessantly, even going into labour on the stage on 1 occasion! Yet only 1 of her children died in infancy, for she clearly was a committed and resourceful mother always continuing to be the breadwinner of the family. Surely, for the age, this must have been quite a record in both avoidance of maternal but also infant mortality? The following Beatles song I would like to emphasise her feat.
'Lady Madonna, children at your feet Wonder how you manage to make ends meet Who finds the money? When you pay the rent? Did you think that money was Heaven sent? Friday night arrives without a suitcase Sunday morning creep in like a nun Monday's child has learned to tie his bootlace See how they run
Lady Madonna, baby at your breast Wonder how you manage to feed the rest See how they run Lady Madonna, lying on the bed Listen to the music playing in your head
Tuesday afternoon is never ending Wednesday morning papers didn't come Thursday night your stockings needed mending See how they run
Lady Madonna, children at your feet Wonder how you manage to make ends meet'
Then, there's the press and the poison pen trolls. In Regency England, there was no Facebook or Internet to fan the flames, instead there were broadsheets and malicious cartoonists. There's no protection from them, and all you could do is to stand up to your detractors alone, there are no laws to protect your reputation. Nor any laws to prevent your impoverishment by incompetent common law husbands, even prodigal princes.
Perhaps when I hear celebrities whine about the mischievous mainstream media, I can think about the mistreatment of a true heroine of the Regency stage who died alone abroad of a broken heart, having given her all to her family, friends, lovers, colleagues and the theatre-going populace. There was never any welfare state to enhance her life, accommodate her prodigious maternal output, nor to accommodate her in the twilight of her career.
Perhaps, then to finish, another Beatles song comes to mind:
'I look at you all, see the love there that's sleeping While my guitar gently weeps I look at the floor, and I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps
I don't know why nobody told you How to unfold your love I don't know how someone controlled you They bought and sold'
A brilliant, beautiful book which I can recommend to the bottom of the heart.
Well, I decided to go down the rabbit-hole of the "Bad Art Friend" controversy (relating to a writer using another writer's Milking Moral Obligations
Well, I decided to go down the rabbit-hole of the "Bad Art Friend" controversy (relating to a writer using another writer's personal, but unwritten, story for personal gain)and explore the dichotomy of writing fiction, mining personal experiences and exploiting those of others. And, even better, this was easy to achieve:
So, an interesting story on the theme of being a patient, a living donor and the subsequent responsibilities that are thus entailed. Just as a journalist has their sources, so does a writer. Perhaps, if the usual attributions had been respected, this may have been less of a fizzer?
Given my recent exposure to the Greek playwrights of 2,500 years ago, when the only sacrifices requested by the gods, or their mouth-pieces, the oracles, required complete personal loss, ie death, this presentation of an organ appears so insignificant. Yet, this modern day saviour was aiming for sainthood but only appears to have achieved approbation? It's an interesting perspective and sure to keep social media ticking over for a while, not to mention the legal system!
From Wikipedia: Plagiarism is the representation of another author's language, thoughts, ideas, or expressions as one's own original work. In educational contexts, there are differing definitions of plagiarism depending on the institution. Plagiarism is considered a violation of academic integrity and a breach of journalistic ethics. See article for further representation!
Maybe, though, there's no such thing as bad publicity, even notoriety, if you're in the public eye? Maybe there's a few more published stories to come out of this saga yet!
This was a terrific play to read, and is now on my bucket list to watch! It is filled with tension and melodrama and rarely A ghoulish murder mystery!
This was a terrific play to read, and is now on my bucket list to watch! It is filled with tension and melodrama and rarely lets up as the playwright successfully skewers this middle class industrialist's family for their callous treatment of a young woman (by their individual actions) who has ultimately committed suicide by swallowing disinfectant.
Priestley was a prolific novelist, writer, broadcaster and playwright who grew up in West Yorkshire and this play, set in Brumley, in the North Midlands, in 1912 sets out his belief that everyone's actions affect our fellows and sets out to show it in a very blunt but endearing fashion. Great narrative and good characterisation really made for a fascinating read and a superb ending! It just does not let up!...more
One of the best soldier English poets of the 1st World War, this is his most recognised poem.
Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN
Bent double, like oldOne of the best soldier English poets of the 1st World War, this is his most recognised poem.
Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Notes:sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”
N/a
Source: Poems (Viking Press, 1921)
This is a superb biography which really gets under the skin of its subject and elicits the raison d'etre behind his work. I have long enjoyed his haunting rendition of the tyranny of war in poetry despite not being a particular enthusiast for the genre.
My only contact with his work previous was discovering in my impoverished youth a dog-eared 1st edition of his poems in a fusty bookshop in the North East of England which was priced at £25, which was the princely sum that I had to live on that week. Sadly I returned the book to the shelf; I see that the antiquarian bibliophiles have ensured that it now retails for US$7000! His work however endures and ages well.
This is my personal favourite:
Strange Meeting
BY WILFRED OWEN
It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,—
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
“None,” said that other, “save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
“I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now. . . .”
Notes: Poetry Out Loud Participants: changes to punctuation, stanza breaks, and a few words were made in May 2014.
Source: The Poems of Wilfred Owen, edited by Jon Stallworthy (W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1986)...more
This appears to be the author's first book, and it's a very impressive debut. Focusing on her own relationship wA brutally honest but engaging memoir.
This appears to be the author's first book, and it's a very impressive debut. Focusing on her own relationship with her husband, it examines the compromises that both had to make whilst she, the corporate executive, was moving up the career ladder: meanwhile he, the cotton farmer, was struggling with year after year of crop failures, labour shortages and incompetent contractors in the wop-wops, here the Darling Downs in Queensland.
The trials and tribulations of farming, particularly in its reliance on a single commodity, as a primary industry, are well told. Discussions on the merits of GM-modified crops, herbicides, pesticides and the perils of plant disease are all included here, as well as the garish stories of rats, snakes, tree frogs and feral cats that haunt her existence in the dilapidated weatherboard bungalow that they call home at "Gebar".
Then there's the neighbours and the Bush Telegraph; the pragmatic postman who'll purchase your stamps for you, and return the change; the accounts system in the nearby town. It's a lovingly told tale of a close-knit community despite its sparse population.
And, finally, the challenges in their relationship and the eventual outcome. It was a good interesting read and the momentum persisted throughout the book. I will look for further books by this author, who writes with refreshing honesty....more
Reading a book of relatively modern plays recently proved my ignorance in the history of theatre. Whilst I have studiedA Crash Course in Greek Tragedy
Reading a book of relatively modern plays recently proved my ignorance in the history of theatre. Whilst I have studied Shakespeare at some depth during my schoolgirl years and had seen several of his dramatisations, I knew little of anything earlier, let alone anything beyond the parochial English shores. I was struggling with mythological references at the very least as well as comprehension of the dramatic method of presentation of this archaic form of theatre.
So, by happenstance, I came across this book of 4 plays by Euripides, who's probably the most accessible, it would appear, of the 3 earliest Greek playwrights from around 405-455BC. The book is introduced by Richard Rutherford and translated by John Davie who's used previous translations from the 10th century AD. It had been collated around the 4th century AD when clearly there were concerns that the plays were changing over time. So the scholarship required to deduce the original plays has been impressive.
What has eventuated is a fascinating impression of an erudite dramatic Athenian culture enjoying drama as part of the festival of Dionysus. These plays were performed as trilogies in competition with up to 500 lay judges. There were only male actors, either 2 or 3, playing multiple parts but women made up the chorus, who appear to provide the emotional force of the play, or tragedy. The plays were action-packed with lots of telling as they were staged in large amphitheatres seating up to 14000 people. Killings, beatings and sacrifices stayed offstage so these plays moved quickly and performances would have lasted possibly under the hour for each individual play. Plots invariably revolved around the heavenly family of gods and goddesses, villains and tyrants interacting with the mortals and halfbreeds with epic consequences!
As my knowledge of Greek myths is scanty, this book is very well notated, referenced and with an extensive glossary. At no point did I feel a complete idiot despite my lack of knowledge, although as I discovered in "Alcestis", the basis of the original myth was hazy. The bibliography appears excellent for further research and the book was revised in 2003.
I have reviewed each individual play independently as they all revolve around different myths but I will quickly gloss over the 4 of them.
1. "Alcestis" is the earliest play. Here we see the King of Pherae, Admetus, required to find someone to sacrifice in his place as payback for upsetting the Furies. Well, who stands up for martyrdom but his wife, Alcestis! His/her parents(there is confusion in my mind as I think they're her parents, his in laws-see David Sarkie's comments on the actual backstory) refuse to offer themselves in his place so he falls out with them! Then there's Heracles on his way to perform another impossible quest who stops by to sample the hospitality but doesn't understand that there's been a death in the family etc. Only after he's enjoyed all the food and drink that he can put away, does he start to understand from a very unimpressed servant what catastrophe has just occurred. So, what does this earthbound demigod do? I won't spoil the ending but just say that Admetus becomes very upset and an awful lot wiser after the loss of his wife! We see that his selfish behaviour may have secured his continued existence but grieving desperately for the loss of a saintly partner. A good 3.75*.
2. "Medea" is the title play and I was expecting it to be the best but it's short, has great speeches and heavy on the tragedy. Her soliloquy is possibly not original but what was present is full of melodrama. So, yes, as per the legend, she kills both her sons in response to Jason, he of the Argonauts fame, divorcing her. She comes across as quite the psychopath, with a track record of previous murders! However, she also takes revenge on his new wife and father-in-law just to double down on his betrayal and, even better, gets to emigrate elsewhere. What a woman! 4.5*
3. "The Children of Heracles" is another dose of revenge inflicted on the earlier mentioned Heracles' family. Basically, his nemesis, Eurystheus, is hunting down all his progeny for Heracles is dead, trying to stamp out his evil influence! Here we see the influence of the temple of Zeus and the importance of religion to the Athenians, as it's by this supplication for sanctuary that Iolaus, their protector, achieves their relief. Unfortunately, this requires a trade-off with the gods who demand a sacrifice of a person of noble blood. Surprise, surprise, another female steps up for martyrdom! 4*
4. "Hippolytus" is a more complex and longer play, it's quite surprisingly brilliant. It also won first prize when presented originally and it's easy to see why. Essentially, Hippolytus is a hunting shooting fishing kind of guy, has pledged his lot to Artemis, goddess of chastity, and offends Aphrodite, goddess of love. She 'gets the pip' in a big way and decides to take revenge on him by making his stepmother, Phaedra, fall in love with him whilst his father, Theseus, is otherwise employed elsewhere. So sparks smoulder rather than fly resulting in not just 1 death, but 2! It's really well written and paced, with the moral of the story, of course, being that one should never offend the heavenly family and always listen to the servants, but be careful what you divulge. 5*
So, what did I discover in this endeavour?
Essentially that Greek tragedy was a highly developed form of drama; exploited its myths to great theatrical effect and, apart from the murderous Medea, that you didn't want to be a woman in those days, when personal sacrifice wasn't just loss of employment but possibly death? I lie, of course, but it's fascinating looking back on something from 2500 years ago and seeing how entertaining it must have been to watch these performances!
Overall, a really good book which I recommend. 4.5 *...more
21st century Falstaffian riff on "The Spy Who Came in From The Cold" with a dose of North of England humour.
I was recommended this book by a couple of21st century Falstaffian riff on "The Spy Who Came in From The Cold" with a dose of North of England humour.
I was recommended this book by a couple of reviews from friends, who really enthused about this book and its wacky humour. I can confirm that it is as good as they said, and yet more, as I find myself, on occasion, reminiscing, on some of the actions and characters in this book, and secretly smiling.
If you know "The Four Yorkshireman Sketch" popularised by Monty Python, you would comprehend the deadpan, gritty, farcical humour that contributes to this book. The sense that you're hard done by this miserable world, that people are there to be humorously sneered at, mocked, reviled but in a way that also very much includes oneself. It's a level playing field!
So, to have this format in a series involving Slough, (rhymes with 'How now, brown cow'), is perfect: this after all, is where that legendary spoof for the small screen, "The Office", hails from. It's a much maligned gateway town just to the West of London, an "immigrant town" with interestingly the highest rate for meningitis in the country, pre-vaccination. It featured in John Betjeman's(Poet Laureate) oeuvre:
'Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough It isn't fit for humans now There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, death!'
Which did indeed happen, in WW2! Much to Betjeman's everlasting shame...
Back to the book in question. In horse-racing parlance, slow horses get sacked. And these guys and girls working in the down-at-heel office near the Barbican, (home to many rough sleepers), are on a one way ticket heading out of their jobs at MI5. They're there, because of the fact that they're losers, they've blotted their copybooks, are unreliable, hopeless colleagues and their boss, Jackson Lamb, has 'all the attributes of a natterjack toad.' He's a fat slob, but somehow, like Falstaff, he's a very endearing individual. In terms of comic parodies, he's certainly one of the best I know, yet never feels ludicrous. At times I was reminded of Ricky Gervais' character in "The Office", such was his appalling characteristics-farting, swearing, halitosis, general slobbery-but somehow like Alec Leamas in John le Carré's masterpiece, one realises that, he's adopted a very useful facade that allows him to operate in exactly the most effective format he knows.
Then there's the new recruit, River Cartwright, abandoned by his mother to his grandparents' care in his childhood, and recently implicated in fingering the wrong suspect in a terrorism mockup exercise, and banished to the far corners of the espionage empire to scroll, instead, like Edward Snowden, through uninteresting emails and phone calls. He's still believes in the democratic forces of the government but is increasingly being tested in those beliefs.
Other colleagues and disillusioned misfits complete the picture of the flotsam and jetsam of a dysfunctional organisation, who don't possess any camaraderie. Whilst they could be taken as depressed, they certainly drink mostly to excess and exhibit a fair amount of antisocial skills that emphasise why they have ended up in no-hoper's paradise.
Just like le Carré, there's acronyms and nicknames aplenty, which if they are true, are very adroit: "suits" are the office folk, "joes" are the action people, "achievers" and "Dogs" are the enforcement arm of the espionage force. There's "London Rules" and "Moscow Rules" also, it's still a Cold War mentality.
I won't concentrate on the plot or incriminate spoiler tags, rather than to allow for the events post the London Euston Underground bombing of 7/7/05 when 56 people were killed including the 4 suicide bombers. This informs and drives both the narrative and the motivations of many of the individuals within the book.
So, why does the book work, and does it so well, in my opinion? Its humour undoubtedly contributes; its ability to expand and utilise those works of 20th century writers of espionage and Her Majesty's security services as themes on which to develop fiction; and to look at the operational fallacies which strike at the heart of democracy. Then, the characters which incorporate much of society, not just the old school masculine toffs of JLC's past, but the women who now head up the organisation, as well as the villains of the the piece, the white supremacists and their arch-nemesis, the coloured immigrant. I really enjoyed his varied presentation of these individuals and thought the author's representations worked well. Yes, the action is chaotic at times, you have to have your wits about you as you read, but its disjointed narrative impresses with its currency. The stream of consciousness process which he allots to his victim, for example, allowed a depth of characterisation, and mastery of writing, that isn't often met in the espionage genre and I particularly liked the ending chapter, which can be such a letdown even in those classic novels.
Oh, what superlatives do I reach for when describing a book that so enriched my heart and mind, that I wept on finA marvelous memoir of a real mensch.
Oh, what superlatives do I reach for when describing a book that so enriched my heart and mind, that I wept on finishing? That I slowly savoured the last few pages, realising that my state of blissfulness was coming to an end. That the author is no longer living, to weave his magic on the shores of the literary pantheon. But he leaves his mark as "a book' that he wished to be in childhood, the one covered with an image of a young lad reading a book lying on a verdant bed, with another book as his pillow.
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