PETRONA

Two crime festivals and an interview with Jo Nesbo

Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival, Harrogate, takes place this year from 22 to 25 July. In partnership with HarperCollins and Alibi (the TV channel), the festival has announced a competition "to unearth some of the country's hottest new crime-writing talent" by asking contestants to write a crime fiction short story of between 2,000 and 5,000 words long. The first line of the story has been provided by author Stuart MacBride, chairman of this year's festival: "In my experience, those who beg for mercy seldom deserve it." Three finalists will win tickets to Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival (with travel and accommodation included), and the winner will be announced during the weekend. The first prize is a Sony e-reader, a library of 100 crime books including a signed Stuart MacBride back catalogue, and an online, downloadable e-edition of their story published by HarperCollins. The deadline for entries is 16 May; more details and instructions for submission can be accessed from the Alibi website. A list of the authors so far attending Harrogate this year can be found here: among them are Neil Cross, Ann Cleeves, Yrsa Sigurdadottir (the only "translated" author on the list so far), Gene Kerrigan, Frances Fyfield, Martin Edwards, Ariana Franklin, Barry Norman, David Levien and many others including Ian Rankin and Karin Slaughter.

Another crime-writing festival will be held in the UK later this year at Reading, on 16-19 September. This is the third annual Reading event, and an extra day has been added to the programme this year. The festival has a new website and you can follow the organisers on Twitter to receive news of which authors sign up to attend. Already confirmed include Val McDermid, Christopher Brookmyre, Lindsey Davis, Susanna Gregory, Paul Doherty, Malcolm Pryce, M. C. Beaton, Mark Mills and Andrew Taylor.

A slight change of subject - hot on the heels of yesterday's post about "Nordic noir" comes a link from Dave Lull to a PW Q/A format interview with Jo Nesbo (creator of Harry Hole and an author blessed with a superb translator, Don Bartlett) on just that topic.  A sample question and answer:

"Do you think it’s fair that Norwegian and Swedish crime fiction is often lumped together as “Scandinavian”?

It may not seem this way for outsiders, since there are cultural, demographic, and geographical similarities in the stories, but I think the voices are very different. I actually feel more related to the American hard-boiled crime novel than the Scandinavian crime novel, whatever that is. But since “Scandinavian crime fiction” seems to have become a trademark for quality, being a Norwegian writer is not a bad starting point."

Jo Nesbo also reveals that he may consider having his first two Harry Hole novels, The Batman and Cockroaches, translated into English (and why this hasn't been done before).

Lifestyles of the online wanderers

I was rather taken by a post by Bill Thompson, Neo-Nomad at Large, which I read on Saturday and has stuck with me. Bill already lives as the aforementioned neo-nomad, "one of the growing number of people who use digital technologies to allow them to work from anywhere, living with 'no office, colleagues who are largely engaged with online and often a number of overlapping projects to be juggled and managed at the same time'." Now, he is taking the concept one stage further by selling his house and embarking on life as a "digital bedouin", seeing how far he can get with a laptop and an internet connection without having to be rooted anywhere: home or office. He's giving it a trial period of a month, to see how he can use the technologies around him to support his existence. If it's the kind of life that interests you, there are some useful pointers in Bill's post as to what devices to use and storage/back-up systems to prevent your very being from vanishing into the 'cloud'. 

Or, you could just go to China instead. For that, you'll need a bit more than a laptop and an internet connection, it seems.

Favourite literary heroes

The Book Depository blog has provided the shortlist for a competition being run by Mills & Boon and the Times Cheltenham Literary festival to identify "the nation's favourite literary hero" (yuk!). Despite hating the idea of the "nation's" favourite anything, I'm quite intrigued by the concept of a favourite literary hero. Of the ones in the list provided, I would, probably obviously, choose the perfect Mr Darcy (Jane Austen's of course). I haven't read the Sharpe novels, nor the books by Jilly Cooper or Audrey Niffenegger on this list. Of the rest, I'd eliminate Heathcliff as not heroic, Oak as boring, Butler as superficial and Rochester as misogynistic (despite his rehabilitation as portrayed by Toby Stephens in the recent TV adaptation, in the book he was not so nice).

Richard Sharpe -- Sharpe by Bernard Cornwall

Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy -- Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen

Mr Mark Darcy -- Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding

Mr Rochester -- Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Rupert Campbell Black -- Rutshire Chronicles by Jilly Cooper

Rhett Butler -- Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Heathcliff -- Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

Captain Corelli -- Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres

Henry DeTamble -- The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Gabriel Oak -- Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy

Before the UK's obsession with Mr Darcy and the other Mr Darcy, Guy Perron from The Raj Quartet (a.k.a. Charles Dance) had considerable mass appeal. One of my own favourite literary heroes when I was in my 20s was Mr Knightley (Jane Austen's Emma). (As an aside, why is he always played by someone too young in recent - and upcoming - dramatisations?) I also rather liked Edwin Clayhanger and Doc (Cannery Row). Before that, I adored characters like Robin Hood, Achilles and Sherlock Holmes, who probably would not have been all that nice to know in reality. A sort of modern-day equivalent of these impulsive, rebellious types is the rather appealing Sirius Black (J K Rowling), but look what happened to him. Of course nowadays I suppose I am too old to have literary heroes, and I also don't read "literature" (or Jilly Cooper!). But I do rather like Erlendur (Arnaldur Indridason) because he likes to spend his "spare" time quietly reading a book. (I'd have to draw a veil over some of the local specialities he eats.)

If you want to vote on the shortlist above, here is where to go. You don't get my options, I'm afraid. Nor any Dickens, Eliott, Tolstoy, et al.

Redundant, risible and sublime

"Have you ever wondered what celebrities do when they use the web?" asks Google. No, actually, I haven't. Never mind, Google ploughs on, you can now tour the homepages of your favourite celebrities, using iGoogle. Eight celebrities are mentioned; I have heard of four of them, only one of whom I know to have done anything useful (Al Gore). I can't bear to write more, but please do visit the Google blog if you want to know more about it.

As more ministers topple -- Top five political backstabbings. Funny, but is that all they could think of? Or should I write, Et tu, Brute?

Sean French writes that "DVDs are good for movies but utterly fantastic for opera". Bernard Haitink's Glyndebourne version of The Marriage of Figaro will cost you £175 to see live (the only price on offer) or £14 to buy the DVD. Advantages and one disadvantage of the recorded medium are duly noted.

Three Days of Rain at the Apollo theatre

This afternoon, Cathy and I went to see Three Days of Rain, a play by Richard Greenberg. Featuring James McAvoy, this absorbing three-hander reminded me of works by both Tennesee Williams and J. B. Priestley. I enjoyed it very much, particularly the second act (set in the 1960s) and the character of the father (played by McAvoy).

Michael Billington's Guardian review.

Lyn Gardner meets the cast. (Her take on the play? "The irony of Three Days of Rain is that, despite everyone's intelligence, they can't stop themselves destroying the future and failing to understand the past.")

Videos: trailers, pictures and interviews with the cast.

David Tennant as Hamlet at the RSC

I suppose I should write something about the David Tennant Hamlet (no point in calling it the RSC 2008 Hamlet, or the Gregory Doran Hamlet, David Tennant is bigger than everything), which I saw on Monday of this week. But writing about Hamlet, probably the greatest work ever written in any medium, and blogging, are rather at opposite extremes of a spectrum in my opinion.

The production is good. It is very much a "David Tennant vehicle" Hamlet, but he's up to it. He's most convincing, magnetic even, in the first half, where his long, lean and pale looks are admirably suited to the grief and the horror of discovery of his father's death. This Hamlet is one torn between the old ways, epitomized by the old warrior father, and the modern, epitomized by the pin-stripe suited, suave Claudius (downplayed effectively by Patrick Stewart).

David Tennant is best when conveying emotion, which he does very well, and when being intellectually playful; the relish with which he demonstrates his quick-wittedness and superior intellect approaches pure brilliance. Hamlet is a character of so many facets, however, that it is probably impossible for one actor to master them all. Tennant, for example, is too self-centred. He does not indicate to us, the audience, whether or not he's aware that Polonius and Claudius are eavesdropping on his "get thee to a nunnery" encounter with Ophelia, which detracts from the scene, the poignancy of her death and his later reaction to it. He is also not one of the most poetical Hamlets I've seen - but is very confident and natural with the lines, unlike some others.

I also take issue with the staging. We had good seats near the front in the middle, but too often, bit-part actors stood for long minutes with their back to the audience watching the action, blocking the sight-lines. I could not see Gertrude (the superb Penny Downie) at all during her moving speech about Ophelia's death, for example, and there were several similar instances.

The audience of course were ecstatic. At the end everyone stood up and cheered for a very long time. One enterprising person threw red roses at Tennant. Two of them were well-enough aimed to reach him, so he put one inbetween his teeth and presented the other, with a flourish, to Gertrude.

It was a good production, with the usual (for the RSC) excellent supporting cast, particularly John Woodvine as a (severely cut) Player King. David Tennant was damn good, occasionally lapsing into a touch of the matinee idol in the second half but turning in a sincere, committed performance with lots of physical action, revelling in his youth, pitifully anguished in the passionate Gertrude bedroom scene, full of grace and agility in the climactic final fights. London is in for a treat next year when the production (already sold out) transfers there.

RSC website on this production.

BBC review of the production.

Guardian review of the production with links to other reviews and Hamlet material.

David Tennant's website, explains why he is famous, adored by many, more about his interpretation of Hamlet, lots of pictures, etc. 

Where I was yesterday

Isn't it nice when you go out and not only have a lovely time but on your return to the blogosphere you find your companion has written the perfect post about it, saving you the bother! Not only can you find out where I was but also find links to reviews of the production concerned and an interview with Ken Branagh - including a little about his upcoming role on TV as Kurt Wallender, Henning Mankell's miserable but endearing detective.

I am not particularly a Kenneth Branagh fan: I saw him onstage in London in his breakthrough role in Another Country, which dates both me and him, and in the interim have experienced many years of watching his rather self-regarding persona in various films (mainly) and the odd play. But yesterday, he was wonderful as Ivanov. The play is not performed that often compared with the rest of Chekhov's output (Uncle Vanya, The Three Sisters, The Cherry Orchard and The Seagull are most often performed). And it is true that the play has some of the hallmarks of being an "early work". Nevertheless, the translation by Tom Stoppard is excellent and the ensemble work superb. As Times critic Benedict Nightingale writes:

"Michael Grandage bolsters his reputation as an actor’s director by getting fine performances from the (variously) ebullient, malicious and wanly affable topers played by Lorcan Cranitch, Malcolm Sinclair and Kevin McNally, but he’s equally successful at evoking a tiny, mean-spirited world where the diversions are playing cards, exchanging scandal and making anti-Semitic remarks. And the sum effect is so glumly comic you’re left wondering how Ivanov could ever have been dismissed as minor Chekhov." Cranitch and McNally in particular had the three of us laughing uncontrollably; but Branagh was truly superb, well inside the skin of this man whose irony, and tragedy, was that he was the honest person among a large group of pretenders for the accolade. The logic of his self-diagnosed condition was faultless, emotionally gripping, played-down and pacy. This is not a play with longueurs, thankfully. But it is a play with which those of us of a certain age, or at a certain stage in life, can identify, all too well. That is the genius of this particular author.

Putting your bodkins in one basket

As Lyn Gardner points out in The Guardian theatre blog (an aside: all the Guardian blogs have just moved to a new platform and been redesigned - but where's the permalink in amid all this "book this restaurant" buttons?), some people book their holidays years in advance, others make sure their theatre tickets are in the bag in very good time. I can't say I do either, but have made an exception for David Tennant's Hamlet. We are going to see it in the upcoming October half-term, and I booked the tickets last July (that's 2007). A first for me - I'm a "call in at the National at 10 am and get a day ticket for £10 in second row of stalls for Anthony Hopkins as Lear" person myself. However, I am told by my daughters that this David Tennant chap is rather good, and as one of them is studying Hamlet at school I conquered my fear of hubris about the future and my aversion to Barty Crouch, Jr, and booked the darn things. Of course, as at that stage I had no clue about what would be happening over the summer vacation, I plumped for the October date. From all accounts, the production is excellent and I will not be pining for my lovely 1940s blond Laurence Olivier version. But unlike Lyn, I will not be repeating the exercise for Jude Law in 2009.

Among other points, Lyn wonders what will happen if Mr Tennant calls in sick on 27 December and she and her party have to watch the understudy. I remember when this once happened to me. It was while I was living in Manchester and I was very excited that the then very new National Theatre planned a tour to those northern wastes (as then were). I booked a ticket for whatever the show was, I forget now. But something happened, the show was cancelled. They had to put on a substitute. What? The Merchant of Venice, with Olivier as Shylock and Joan Plowright as Portia. Those few of us who held tickets for the cancelled production enjoyed a wonderful treat, without having to pay the greatly inflated prices charged by the touts who immediately snapped up the 80 per cent of tickets that hadn't been sold for the advertised show. It was my only opportunity to see Olivier in the flesh, probably for the cost of about a fiver or less. Just "goes to show".

Grim inter-regional struggle or post-modern kitsch contempt?

This picture of the science of the Eurovision song contest voting "blocs" comes via Mixed Miscellanies. The figure comes from a paper  with the title Comparison of Eurovision Song Contest Simulation with Actual Results Reveals Shifting, published in the Journal of Artificial Societies and Social Simulation vol. 9, no. 2 (2006). Thanks to Scott Keir, of Mixed Miscellanies blog, I can now share it with you, too. "What implications does this have, if any, for pan-European political institutions? The answer to this depends on whether or not one takes the view that the contest is some kind of grand metaphor for European politics", writes the author of the J Art. Soc. paper, the appropriately named Derek Gatherer.  "If one believes this", he continues, "then the outlook for an expanded European Union is one grim inter-regional struggle. However, if one simply sees the contest as an expression of post-modern kitsch contempt for the established pop music industry..., then no such concern is warranted. This paper shows that regionalism in the contest is a memetic epidemic, and not likely to reflect very profound fault lines in the current state of Europe."

Bluestockings, brilliance and books

I was lucky that my couple of days off work to use up the last dregs of my "2007 holiday" coincided with Karen of Euro Crime's availability today, so we went to the National Portrait Gallery to see an exhibition: The Bluestocking circle; Celebrating Modern Muses; and A Revolution in Female Manners. In a nutshell, the exhibition

"explores the impact of the original 'Bluestocking Circle', a group of celebrated women writers, artists and thinkers who forged new links between gender, learning and virtue in eighteenth-century Britain. These women were not just brilliant, they were exceptional, both for their individual accomplishments and for breaking the boundaries of what women could be expected to undertake or achieve."

Elizabeth Montague arranged the chairs of her salons in a semicircle where attendees were assigned places according to "talent and rank" (a challenge if one was considered to have one but not the other!), whereas Elizabeth Vesey, a more prescient harbinger of modern blogging, scattered cushions in the room so that there was "no zig-zag path of common impediment" to discourse.

The exhibition is informative about the lives of intelligent and independently minded women of these times (eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries) and their social salons and other groups. In their heyday, they wrote books, were artists and were painted as heroines and role models, often as characters from classical Greek mythology. Later, however, they were pilloried in cartoons as female freedom of speech fell out of fashion with the advent of the French revolution, and women with more comfortable, domestic values became a safer ideal than Mary Wollstonecraft and her ilk. The term "bluestocking" changed in the public mind from a compliment to an insult -- even to this day it is a term of denigration, sadly - though not in my book. And while on the subject of books, you can buy a book of the exhibition -- it is beautifully presented and looks very good, but it costs a hefty £18.99.

Uncle Vanya at the Rose Theatre

The picture (credit: Guardian) shows Michelle Dockery as Yelena and Neil Pearson as Dr Astrov in Chekhov's Uncle Vanya, the inaugural production at Kingston's Rose Theatre, where I have just spent Saturday afternoon.

The production is absolutely wonderful - every actor is fantastic, the translation naturalistic, and the play even more powerful than I remember. I was moved to tears by Sonia's closing speech, which, according to the programme notes, Rachmaninov found so poignant that he set these poetic last words straight to music.

There are glowing reviews of the production, which will tour the country for 8 weeks after the Kingston run, here at the Guardian, here at the Telegraph, and here at the Times.

In all honesty I could not single out any of the actors in the ensemble cast for special praise, but I was thrilled to see Neil Pearson, one of my very favourite actors, on stage, playing the prescient environmentalist Astrov, energetically warning against man's destruction of the climate and ecosystems. As he is sporting a beard for the duration, I am sure regular readers will understand my choice of picture.

No Aragorn in the NBCC

David Orr of the US National Book Critics Circle has kindly explained to me (here) why Aragorn was not chosen as one of the new directors. David points out that he was disqualified because of a late candidate statement. Must have been too busy chasing those orcs.

Anne Frank strikes a false note

Via the Guardian: Anne Frank the Musical strikes a false note. Yes, it seems there is to be a musical based on the life of Anne Frank, backed, apparently, by the Anne Frank foundation - but not by me. The news immediately made me think of Mel Brooks's film The Producers, in which Zero Mostel, for crazy plot reasons, needs a sure-fire loss maker to put on Broadway, so he decides upon a musical, Springtime for Hitler. Against all expectations, the show is an overnight sensation, which is ruinous for Zero. Much later, the movie was made into an (also successful) theatrical musical -- called, unsurprisingly, The Producers rather than Springtime for Hitler - that would have taken irony a step too far.

Back to Anne Frank. Michael Billington puts it perfectly in his Guardian piece:

Anne Frank's diary exists as a record of a young girl's thoughts and feelings. Even the play based upon it, according to Kenneth Tynan when he saw it in New York in the 1950s, "smacked of exploitation". And a musical will surely take us even further from the world of raw truth. This is a vital aesthetic question raised by David Hare in Via Dolorosa. Visiting Yad Vashem, the museum of the Holocaust, Hare was struck by the thought that the paintings and sculptures on view seemed superfluous when one was confronted by the matchless horror of fact.

Millais in London

When I was 12 or 13, I joined a local film society, being the youngest member by at least 20 years. I still remember the films I saw there: L'Assamoire, L'Etranger, Animal Farm, Odd Man Out, Battleship Potemkin, et al. Before each film, a short documentary was shown, followed by a talk about the main feature. And that is when I discovered the pre-Raphaelites, and in particular Millais, in a wonderful short film about the movement that I remember to this day. 

I didn't know anything at that time about Bubbles, the main reason for people to sneer at Millais, and to me this picture is an irrelevance. My love of Millais and his contemporaries was, and is, due to the beautiful evocations of the classics and Shakespeare. This is why I am looking forward to seeing the Millais exhibition currently in London: see Millais's high drama and low designs - Times Online. The picture of Ophelia has special meaning for me, and is so well-described in the article at the link:

"This discomfiting fascination with the relationship between human bodies and what they are in – both clothes and setting – is one of Millais’s distinctive qualities. Through all the variations in style and genre which this exhibition amply documents, he remains absorbed by the idea that a setting can become a kind of vesture, the vesture project an image, and the image tally uneasily with the human being to whom it is attached. No character has been more comprehensively sunk into a natural setting than Ophelia, and yet the effect of this is the opposite, it seems to me, of that suggested in the exhibition’s detailed and generally perceptive catalogue: “the depicted cycles of growth, maturation and display doubly absorb Ophelia into a natural process, and render her insignificant”. Of course the silver flowery embroidery of her dress mingles with the stream and connects with the sprays of white dog rose above; and the purple loosestrife on the bank calls out to the poppies, violets and daisies of her bouquet now scattered on the water. But this weaving of pretty patterns will not assimilate the bare bits of her moribund body which stick up above the surface: her cupped hands, which are shaped like lily flowers but whose cold fleshiness repels the thought of the comparison as soon as it occurs; her lips, which are not at all like an opening bud; her cheeks, which are pink but hardly rosy. The painting sets up and worries at a contrast between what can be taken as decoration – leaves, flowers, and dress material – and what, here at least, cannot: the woman’s body."

Equiano comes to Kingston

"A new play performed by the award-winning MeWe Youth Theatre. Written and directed by Ann-Marie Olufuwa, this enjoyable new work is based on the life of Olaudah Equiano who wrote a celebrated autobiography detailing his life in captivity and his fight to become a free man. Olaudah became an inspirational figure in London in the movement to abolish the slave trade. Adventurous, informative and uplifting! The performance lasts 1 hour ten minutes, followed by a short panel discussion with distinguished guests."

Date: Thursday 25 October 2007
Time: Matinee 2pm; Evening 7.30pm
Location: Arthur Cotterell Theatre, Kingston College, Kingston Hall Road, Kingston KT1 2AQ
Website; Email;  Phone: 020 8547 5409.

If you can't get there but are interested in the topic, I strongly recommend that you do not watch the movie Amazing Grace, now out on DVD (as I did recently, in the mistaken idea that it would be an interesting and educational family experience): it is among the worst films I've seen. The first scene involves Wilberforce seeing from his coach window two men beating a horse. He gets out and tells them to stop. One is about to attack him when the other says "Hang on, Jim [or whatever], I recognise that man, that's William Wilberforce. He's against slavery. Let's leave him alone". Wilberforce gives them a baleful look, gets back into coach: men are last seen patting horse and trying to help it stand up. It goes downhill from there. (Equiano does feature, but not meaningfully. I cannot bear to write any more on this time waster, though.)

Watch this Space this Summer

via email:

The National Theatre’s free summer festival, Watch This Space, is back, bringing an unparalleled programme of outdoor entertainment (and a lovely lawn) to London’s South Bank. This year there’s the chance to see international world premieres, as well as a sparkling mix of street theatre, bands, club nights, dance, cabaret and spectacle. Join us in Theatre Square from 6 July to 1 September.

First up: Friday 6th to Sunday 8th July. "As the Tour de France races through London, the opening weekend of Watch This Space celebrates the joy of cycling. The Bicycle Ballet forms the centrepiece of the weekend, plus a wealth of unicycling, bicycling and tricycling acts. Stunning Magnum photography lights up the Lyttelton Fly Tower in the evening. The first leg of the Tour de France passes behind the National Theatre on Sunday at 10.30am."

Overlooking the Thames, the chilled surroundings of the Terrace Café provide the perfect backdrop for late nights of musical eclecticism with Bring & Share, the original DIY Disco. So get digging and bring along your vinyl, CDs and mp3s for the B&S DJs to mix into their anything-goes sets. 10pm – 1am, Fridays and Saturdays in the Terrace Café.

Coram Boy on Broadway

If you are in New York this week you can see the fantastic play Coram Boy on Broadway (nominated for six Tony awards) for as little as $25, for performances from today to 27 May.

Go to this part of the NT website  for more details. Go here to order or call 212-947-8844.
For the $25 seats use code CB4NPEM (mezzanine); for the $66.25 tickets, use code CBGNA67 (orchestra); or bring this offer to the Imperial Theatre, 249 W 45th Street.

From the NT website:  "CORAM BOY, an amazingly rare theatrical experience [is] arriving direct from a sold-out run at London's National Theatre. CORAM BOY is set in 18th-century England, where two orphans get a second chance in life at a home for deserted children. One has been rescued from an African slave ship. The other is the abandoned son of the heir to a great estate. The boys are given two very different roads to follow and the adventure of a lifetime begins!" And, they forgot to say, the music (mainly Handel) is a running theme in the play, and truly wonderful.

Here is Richard Morrison, excellent columnist and the Times' chief music critic, on Thomas Coram, and here is his exuberant article about the play and the music in it.

Here is the Times review of the original production.

And see here for an (as ever) lovely post by Clare of Keeper of the Snails about the Foundling Museum in Coram Fields, London. From Clare's post:

"Whereas other cities in Europe had homes for foundlings, London did not. It was thought that by having a hospital for foundlings society would be seen to be condoning loose morals; because most of the children were born to unmarried mothers.
Coram faced a long campaign. It took him 17 years to establish the Hospital, but once the Hospital was started he was almost immediately ousted by a committee coup. I keep wondering what he felt about this - doing all that work and then not having much to do with his great accomplishment.
It was a secular independent charity - the first time such an institution had ever been established. One of its greatest innovations was to invite Hogarth to display his pictures there,  which encouraged other artists and it subsequently became the first public gallery in London. Another benefactor was Handel who donated an organ to the chapel and conducted recitals there."

A look at some history

A round-up of a few history-related posts, blogs and books.

On Britannica Blog is a three-part article on Why the Allies didn't bomb the death camps (links: part 3,  part 2 and part 1). These excellent articles form part of the Encyclopaedia Britannica's April-long feature about the Holocaust, whose main page (with associated links and multimedia features) is here. 

While on the Second World War, Becky of A Book a Week has just reviewed Night Watch by Sarah Waters (including a link to the Guardian review: I always like to compare different perspectives on the same book). I have bought this book -- back in February for Cathy's birthday -- but have not yet read it. From Becky's review I should move it higher up the pile.

The latest, and deserved, recipient of the Thinking Blogger award is Carla Nayland, who here recommends seven fascinating history-related blogs and an eighth, Wordcarving, which is the blog of the talented poet John Ahearn. Carla's blog is, to me, a delight, focusing on Britain in the 5th to 10th centuries AD, but by no means exclusively. Her blog is an excellent example of how much one can expand one's horizons via blogging-- I probably would not pick up a whole book on this topic, but regularly read interesting articles about those ancient times, courtesy of Carla, though I can't admit to having tried any of her recipes (yet?).

Moving further back still, Amy On the Web links to an amusing feature: If ancient Rome had the Internet. (I think the title would have been better in the pluperfect: "had had" but I'm an old quibbler).

Finally, I received my monthly email from the excellent History Bookshop, which bears the news that there is an extra 10 per cent off even their excellent prices for subscribers to their (free) e-newsletter. Not only is there a vast collection of history books about all eras and from all perspectives, but the website has the usual features of a timeline, quiz, articles, themes and "year view", when you can see what happened in the year of your choice.

normblog: Writer's choice 94: Frank Wilson

Link: normblog: Writer's choice 94: Frank Wilson.

A wonderful piece by Frank Wilson on Priestley's "Literature and Western Man" at the normblog (link above), Norman Geras's weblog. I've read several of Priestley's novels and seen most of his plays (and read them all), but have to admit to not having read this particular work, by all accounts his masterpiece. Frank writes:

"Literature and Western Man had a profound and lasting effect on me. It demonstrated to me the degree to which literature enables us to discern who we really are and what is really going on in the world. There is more political science in Richard II than there is in any dreary white paper some think tank is currently churning out. As Priestley says of Montaigne: 'there is something that can be known... something much closer and more comprehensible than the doctrine of the Trinity or the world plan of the Absolute, and that is - the mind, the inner world, that shapes and colours both character and action. No wonder Montaigne was free from the raging and murderous fanaticism of his time. He had taken a peep into the kitchen where that hell-broth was brewing.'

The mystery of which we have the most direct experience is the self. Great literature enables us to find our way around this ever-uncharted wilderness, where angels may be found to dwell, but where also, for sure, there be dragons."

Please do read Frank's entire essay, at the link above.

Thanks to Debra Hamel of the deblog and Dave Lull for letting me know about this essay.

Dylan Hears a Who!

Link: Dylan Hears a Who!.

Dave Lull has sent me a truly wondrous link (above): Dylan's tribute to Dr Seuss. Listen to seven tracks, including the incomparable Cat in the Hat, Green Eggs and Ham, and one new to me but curiously inappropriate: Too Many Daves.

Thanks, Dave -- I loved it. As you know I usually have the volume turned off, but Jenny has been using my computer to play Sims so had left it on. I got quite a start when I clicked on the link to have the immortal tones of Mr R. Z. blasting out at me -- lucky, though, as it turned out, otherwise I would not have realised it was something to which one could listen (being a bit non-intuitive on the audio front).

The Session and the Henderson Laboratory

Taking a more relaxed approach to blogging today, here is an extract from an emailshot I received the other day:

Review copies are now available for THE SESSION, A NOVELLA IN DIALOGUE by Aaron Petrovich, the debut installment in the "Hotel St. George Press" imprint. Details about the book and the imprint are listed below. Please e-mail us back if you'd like to receive a copy.

Best Regards,
Johanna Ingalls/Managing Editor
Akashic Books

"Funny, frantic, and with a subversive intelligence, Aaron Petrovich's Keatonesque heroes, Detectives Smith and Smith, stumble upon a bizarre new religion while following the trail of a murdered mathematician's missing organs. Their investigation to discover the truth--about the mathematician murder, the mob of men and women who may have eaten him, and ultimately the nature of truth, sanity, and identity--leads them into a lunatic asylum they may never leave."


Hotel St. George Press--an online literary and arts quarterly featuring original fiction, artwork, films, short films, music, and radio plays--is dedicated to publishing intra-genre fictions that fuse the formal craftsmanship of artbooks with the substantive content of dynamic, modern prose.

The Winter 2007 Issue is now online . With the Winter Issue comes the opening of a new wing, the HENDERSON LABORATORY, in which one occupant is given free reign to experiment with new and unusual ideas throughout the duration of the season. Our current guest, Catherine
Bloom, has begun posting her astonishing weekly neuroscience blog, viewable here.

Well, I sure get some interesting mailshots.

Hogarth comes to the Tate

The most comprehensive exhibition "in living memory" of Hogarth's works is coming to the Tate Britain on 7 February.  From the catalogue:

"The exhibition demonstrates that Hogarth wasn’t only a brilliant satirist as it showcases every aspect of his multi-faceted career: his remarkable paintings, ranging from elegant conversation pieces to salacious brothel scenes; his vibrant drawings and sketches; and the numerous engraved works for which he is most famous today, including Gin Lane and Beer Street . His society portraits easily rival those of Gainsborough or Reynolds, and the variety and energy of his output is outstanding.

No other artist’s work has come to define a period of British history as powerfully and enduringly as Hogarth’s. The exhibition explores an artist who was strikingly modern in character, confronting subjects and themes – the city, sexuality, manners, social integration, crime, political corruption, charity and patriotism– that continue to preoccupy us today. The exhibition makes the case that Hogarth was in fact Britain’s first truly modern artist, and shows the relevance of his work to British art now."

The exhibition runs to 9 April and then moves to Madrid.

A book called Hogarth, France and British Art by Robin Simon (editor and publisher of the British Art Journal) has just been published, in time to coincide with the show. The book claims to be a radical reappraisal of Hogarth's art and achievements, including more than 300 colour and black-and-white illustrations. 

Grounds for optimism?

"I recall Chekhov’s story because of a link Dave Lull sent me to a brief essay by Rebecca Goldstein at Edge. She is one of 160 people – scientists, journalists, psychologists, academics of various sorts – asked to respond to this question: “What are you optimistic about?” Her answer, in short, is that humans have the capacity to understand one another." Thus writes Patrick Kurp in a new year's essay.

So what are you optimistic about in these first few days of a new year? Putting aside world peace, and end to hunger and a stop to all beauty contests, what is the one best thing that has a good chance of happening this year?

So far, our newly acquired and rapidly accumulating knowledge of genetics and "genomics" has not translated into demonstrable benefits for human health and wellbeing (eg agricultural improvements). I'd like to think that in 2007 such a direct benefit might be found.

I'd also like to think that the seventh and final "Harry Potter" book will be published this year, and that it will be as good, and as satisfying, as the others.

What are your optimistic predictions for the year ahead?

Good deeds for the day

Scott Pack writes here: Me And My Big Mouth :: My Christmas Angel Moment about how he was able to help the man in front of him in the Waterstone's queue by providing the title and author of the book the man was trying to buy (without remembering the author or title, a frequent occurrence in bookshops as has been noted here.) The book, by the way, is The Woman in Black, and the author Susan Hill.

I had a similar experience the other day: one of those rare occasions when my day job came in useful "by chance". I was walking up the stairs at Wimbledon station in a mass of coummuters when two young women behind me began to talk about their upcoming chemistry exam. "I can't even remember who won the Nobel prize this year", one of them lamented. I was able to turn round and enlighten them. I think they were so surprised that the name would have stuck in their minds at least until their test came up.  (The answer is Roger Kornberg.)

Webster's daily blog

I still find it a bit strange to receive an email from a blogger (or other person) out of the blue, containing information about his or her project. I have read posts on several blogs attacking this practice, but I don't mind so long as the person is a real person and is not trying to sell something, or tell me about something I could have no conceivable interest in. I guess my tolerance arises from from the perspective of someone who is paid to receive hundreds (sometimes) and certainly tens of emails a day from people I've never encountered before, almost all of which require some action or work from me.

Such emails in my "off duty" Petrona persona are relatively rare, but one recent example is from a Josh Wallaert, telling me about his blog Webster's daily. At this blog, a lovely shade of deep blue, Josh posts one "found poem" every day from the first edition of Webster's American Dictionary (1828).

The example he sent in his email message: Hope [n.] A sloping plain between ridges of mountains. [Not in use.]

I didn't post about Webster's Daily straight away upon receipt of Josh's message because I wanted to check it out for a few days to see if it really is a "daily", and it is. What's more, it is a really nice blog (I've put a bit more information about it on the continuation sheet to this post). I have subscribed, and hope you will take a look.

Dave Lull, in the unlikely event you don't know about Webster's Daily already, I think you will like it. Let me know if you would like me to add it to the Librarian's Place blogroll.

Bill, Susan and David

Susan Balée has written a review of David Hare's latest play, The Vertical Hour, on a wonderful website called The Official Bill Nighy Experience.  Susan and I are fellow enthusiasts for David Hare; Susan is also a devotee of Bill N., an actor I like a lot too.

I could not better Susan's great introduction for why I, too, love Hare's plays and always have done since seeing "Teeth 'n' Smiles" years ago:

"First, a confession: I think David Hare is possibly the best playwright of our era and I know for a fact Bill Nighy is the best actor. Hare has penned so many fabulous plays over the years – Skylight, Plenty, The Secret Rapture, Amy’s View, A Map of the World, just to name a handful – and he’s been willing to tackle Western society’s big issues and explore them in innovative ways. Until recently, he rarely preached to his audience, he simply showed us particular situations and let us draw our own conclusions. His ambiguity was a virtue; ditto his skill at sublimating the political issues that fascinate him into compelling stories about intimate relationships between human beings. As a female, I’ve also admired Hare because it’s clear he genuinely likes women, and powerful women with intelligent, witty dialogue feature in many of the above-named plays. Therefore, when I read this spring that Hare would be premiering a new play on Broadway and that my hero Bill Nighy would star in it … Well, let’s just say I was over the moon."

Unfortunately, Susan didn't enjoy the new play much: too much politics, not enough passion. But at least there was Bill.

Here is Susan's bio from the review:

"Susan Balée wrote the first biography of writer Flannery O’Connor and her essays on literature have appeared in a variety of publications, including The Weekly Standard, The Women’s Review of Books, The Hudson Review, the Philadelphia Inquirer, The Oxford Encyclopedia to American Literature, and Scribner’s British Writers reference series. Her long essay on the career of playwright David Hare is forthcoming in The Michigan Quarterly Review.

Balée is also an unabashed and enthusiastic fan of the greatest actor in the English-speaking world: Bill Nighy."

Museum of childhood

The Museum of Childhood in London is reopening on 9 December after a £4.7 million development. The 130-year old building should be restored to its Victorian glory (I'm paraphrasing here) with upgraded "visitor facilities" and a stunning new entrance.

The museum used to be called the Bethnal Green Museum, and was opened in 1872. In an early form of placeism (of which this blog approves), the idea was that the local people would run it. This never happened, and nobody really knew what the museum was for, other than vague ideas of cultural enrichment for the impoverished East Enders.

The museum settled on an emphasis on food, which began to decay.  After the First World War, however, Arthur Sabin, one of the curators, began to focus on items that would interest children -- and the museum kind of stuttered on like this until the 1970s, when Roy Strong, director of the V&A, decided to officially dedicate the museum to childhood.

On the museum's website you can find pages of children's activities as part of its aim" to encourage everyone to explore the themes of childhood past and present and develop an appreciation of creative design through our inspirational collections and programmes." The collections in the museum are indexed here.  Touring exhibitions are listed here.

Best left undiscovered?

From today's Times. One William Topaz McGonagall is apparently known as the world's worst poet. His most famous piece is The Tay Bridge Disaster, which includes the lines: “Alas! I am very sorry to say / That ninety lives have been taken away / On the last Sabbath day of 1879 / Which will be remember’d for a very long time.”

Now, a play has been discovered in a Dundee archive, written in 1886 and never performed or published. It is a three-act melodrama, probably written as a tribute to Shakespeare's Henry IV plays called Jack o'the Cudgel. "Set in the court of Edward III, it tells the story of Jack, a “noble Saxon” who rises from pauper to royal knight and vanquishes his enemies by clubbing them over the head with an enormous cudgel. In one memorable scene, he stops a giant from attacking a minstrel, declaring: “Leave the minstrel, thou pig-headed giant, or I’ll make you repent/For thou must know my name is Jack, and I hail from Kent.”  "

McGonagall himself, an enthusiastic if dreadful actor, intended to play the main role but never got around to it. But even in advance of the play's publication next month, there is much excitement among McGonagall's cult following, who are looking forward to "the usual banalities, execrable rhymes and appalling scansion."

Link: Sorry to say, someone has found a McGonagall play - Newspaper Edition - Times Online.

Suffragettes continued at Oasis

In the comments to my recent post on the suffragettes, several readers have asked me the reason(s) for Cathy's disapproval of the movement. She's now replied in a post on her own blog, Oasis. Please go to the link and read her argument; she would love to read your responses in her comments. I, too, am looking forward to your views on her views (this is getting rather nested).

Oasis post on suffragettes.

Literary culture

Taking advantage of a day's holiday from work to catch up, I have read an interview with Gabriel Josipovici on Ready Steady Book, link kindly sent to me, with some excerpts, by Dave Lull.

I hadn't heard of Mr Josipovici before (I hope that does not make me a Philistine), but he is a French writer who has spent most of his adult life in the UK. This last point is relevant becuase GJ is rather critical of the UK cultural scene; as he lives here, then that's OK;-)

Much of the interview on Ready Steady Book is about GJ's writing, old and new. The conversation takes a general turn:

"MT: In this country we tend to see literary novels as ‘heavy’ and popular fiction as ‘light’. Yet you have referred to the ‘lightness’ of The Iliad. What is this quality exactly? Are there modern novels that are light in this way?"

The first part of the response is one that Michael Allen would endorse:

"GJ: There may be two or three different issues here. I find contemporary works that take themselves terribly seriously a pain, as I’ve said. I’d much rather read a good thriller or a good comic novel than one that is bidding to become a Booker prize-winner (and often succeeding)."

GJ then goes on to say that (American, he says) thriller writers these days want to show that their work is important, which he calls a "disaster for their work". This is an intriguing view: which thriller writers can he mean, and why a disaster? (He doesn't tell us.) The most famous and successful thriller at the moment remains the Da Vinci Code, and I don't recall the author claiming it as important (though some religious organisations have erroneously taken it seriously, but that's different). In my opinion, among the best current US thriller writers are the likes of Michael Connelly, Harlan Coben, Karin Slaughter, Philip Margolian, Robert Crais ... I could go on (see Connotea Detective). My point is, I have not known them to take their work "seriously" in what they have written or said about their books. (Karin Slaughter in particular is great copy as an interviewee).

GJ's examples of modern authors who write "light" novels are Malamud, Shabtai, Simon, Perec, Duras, Robbe-Grillet, Kundera, Joseph Heller and Peter Handke. I am ashamed to say I have not read, or even heard of, many of these. I went through a phase of reading Kundera and enjoyed a few of his, though I found I'd had enough after a while. I read one Malamud ages ago (his most famous one, called "The Fixer") but do not remember much about it. Catch 22 (Heller) I found a bit of a curate's egg (though was only a teenager when I read it, and knew nothing about the culture or events depicted). The rest I have not read. I admit I am not a literary intellectual, so do feel somewhat intimidated by this list of "light" reading. GJ also mentions Spark, Bellow, Nabokov and Thomas Bernhard. I've read a lot of Spark in the past, I read one or two Nabokovs and didn't like them (probably did not "get" them -- he seems a creepy kind of person to me but I know he is much admired), and have not read the others. I guess there is little hope for me, as these days I fear I would not now have the concentration to read these no doubt extremely clever books.

Another point GJ makes, as highlighted by Dave Lull, is about the paucity of British (literary) culture:

"MT: In the past you’ve said that, from your perspective, British culture appears to be "narrow, provincial and smug". How would you say this manifests itself when it comes to literature?"

"GJ: Coming to this culture from the outside I’m amazed at how mean and provincial it is. What do I mean by that? It’s difficult to put into words. It’s like a fog that has covered the British Isles and people go about in it and think that’s how the world is. Look at the bookshops. I lived in Paris for a few months two years ago, in the Montmartre area, not a particularly intellectual quarter, but there were four independent bookshops within five minutes walk of my flat. Their owners had run them for ten to twenty-five years and, while they of course had all the latest works, they also reflected the owners’ tastes. ‘Içi, moi je suis la reine’, one of them said to me one day. Here, every town you go to has the same dreary Waterstones with the same dreary books piled high on the tables, two for the price of one in some instances, supermarket style. I wonder if it is the first time in history that the line between fashion and culture has disappeared. Disappeared in the minds of the reading public, of literary editors, of prizegivers, even of writers themselves."

Well. And again, well! Of course GJ is right to observe the sad decline of the independent bookseller (someone has made a similar comment to my chick-lit posting immediately before this one). When I moved to Kingston 15 years ago, for example, there were 7 or 8 different bookshops in the town, now there are three, and yes they are Waterstones, Borders and WHSmith. But I don't think this is symptomatic of any problem for the consumer of books (though of course it is for the independent booksellers). Although GJ sneers at the 3 for 2s (very fashionable to do that), Waterstones and Borders offer a large choice of standard books. And where they don't, there is online. As has so often been said, Amazon offers any book you can think of, in or out of print, 24 hours a day. (Abe books and other online booksellers similar.) I have bought more books in the past 5 years from a huge range of small bookshops and individuals in the UK (and elsewhere) than I ever did before I got hooked on the Internet. The variety is unbelievable. One of my favourite blogs, admittedly not UK, reviews "a book a day", mostly obtained from the public library. Other bloggers do the same. (Doubtless non-bloggers too;-) )

That isn't to say that independent bookshops aren't great -- they are. Whenever I am in a town where there is one -- Keswick, Tenby, Chipping Norton -- and have any time (and they are open), I go in and invariably buy some books that I hadn't previously thought to buy. There are plenty in central London too, but I tend not to go there even though, technically, I live there. It is sad that these shops find it hard to compete. But GJ is wrong, I think, to imply that their absence signifies a literary desert.

My theory is that in Paris and in other cities in mainland Europe, independent booksellers have a better time of it because the Internet has not caught on there to the extent that it has in this island nation, and becuase English is not the first language. Online retail in mainland European languages does exist, but on a much smaller scale than English. I think if GJ waits a few years he will see things change. I am not saying this is a good thing, but I think it may happen. (And I think he's probably right that the standard of literary debate in the media is higher in parts of mainland Europe and South America than it is in parts of the USA and UK.)

GJ talks about sameness of literary prizes, and so on: I am sure he is right to imply a level of product placement and commercialism, from what one reads. But is he aware of the blog world, and the absolutely first-class standard of literary comments and debate that exists, on books old and new? He fails to acknowledge it.

So I think GJ is incorrect to say: "English literary culture, in sharp contrast to the musical and fine arts culture, has retreated into a safe little Englander mentality, imagining that merely by writing ‘about’ great events and deep subjects you are producing great and deep works of literature."

I think it is still there, just as it always was. It may not be the literary "club" of London publishers and authors he no doubt is attacking (another fashionable activity). But I wonder if he is aware of how many book groups exist - -I know of several locally, among parents of school-age children. Informal, unnoticed by anyone but themselves, yet there for the love of reading. Is the "Richard and Judy" book club beneath the notice of GJ? (It is modelled on Oprah, I believe.) I don't watch R&J but the books they select are promoted in the dreaded Waterstones et al. I have bought quite a few for my teenage daughter, as she moves into adult reading, and she's enjoyed them, and found that they have raised questions for her to consider. I don't think the R&J selections are "safe choices" from well-known authors, but are quite individualistic, on the whole.

There is another aspect to GJ's comments, but which I am not going to discuss now as this post is too long, and I am currently cooking someone's tea, doing a load of washing and have to collect a child from somewhere. Such is the fractured life of the "attempted intelligent" person with domestic responsibilities. Petrona will have to retire for the moment.

My message to GJ is: in a culture dominated by instant, digestible media, I am constantly impressed by the variety of reading and thinking done by the people I encounter in daily life. Most of whom are completely unaware of literary prizes and the "scratch my back" nature (we are told) of book publishing. There is hope for us yet!

Note: I see that Ready Steady Book does not have a comments facility ;-)

Frank Wilson said...

Many years ago, Maxine, I reviewed Peter Handke's The Left-Handed Woman. I called it the longest 89-page novel I had ever read.

7:09 PM

Maxine said...

You give me hope, Frank!

7:21 PM