july 2019 books...

Wild Fire (Ann Cleeves): Feeling bereft… I’ve now finished the last of the eight-book Shetland series. A powerful, clever plot surrounding an English family who have moved to the island, eager to give their autistic son a better life… rumours, suspicion. What’s not to like? I liked how Cleeves managed to make gentle reference to people and events that had been part of earlier books. Beautifully crafted, hugely believable characters and a wonderful evocation of the islands and island life. I’m going to miss Jimmy Perez bigtime! A fitting end to a wonderful series of books. Will I be able to find a suitable replacement?
Take Nothing With You (Patrick Gale): Moira+I recently went to hear Patrick Gale talk engagingly about his latest book at the Tobacco Factory – duly supported by a rather beautiful cello accompaniment… which was entirely apt given that the novel is about a boy, an only child, leading a strange existence in a houseful of elderly adults, whose life dramatically changes under the spell of his cello teacher. The boy makes new friendships through music… but also learns harsh life lessons of love, survival and resilience. There are elements of the story that are almost autobiographical. Had he not become a writer, Gale might have been a musician (as a promising youngster he was selected to attend courses at the International Cello Centre, a residential school in the Scottish borders). Although, at times, I felt Gale was almost ‘showing-off’ his knowledge of the instrument, the intricate skills required to play the cello and the particular pieces of music that highlighted its beauty, he does tell a very warm and humane story rather impressively. Once again, reading one of Gale’s books provided me with a sense of being in the hands of a very skilled, accomplished writer. Will not, perhaps, emerge as one of my ‘books of the year’, but enjoyable and compelling nevertheless.
The Snack Thief (Andrea Camilleri): I managed to find THREE Inspector Montalbano books in the ‘Last Bookshop’ recently… and perhaps reading one of them a month will help make up for the grieving of having finished the last of Cleeves’s ‘Shetland’ books! As ever, Montalbano’s unique approach to Sicilian crime-fighting, government corruption and gastronomy wins the day for me.  Well as being an entertaining read (frequently, absurdly funny), this has a clever, complex and compelling storyline. Sad to learn of Camilleri’s death, aged 93, only a few days ago.
The Corset (Laura Purcell): Another book to be discussed in of my lovely Storysmith Book Group. It’s difficult to summarise this book – a compelling Victorian gothic crime mystery perhaps? The novel is told from the perspective of two individuals: Ruth Butterham, a 16-year-old seamstress, who stands accused of murdering her abusive mistress and Dorothea Truelove, a wealthy young heiress who combines good works (including visiting Ruth in prison) with the study of phrenology. As something of a crucial complication, Ruth believes she has supernatural powers. It’s a story of privilege and poverty and an evocative portrait of a society that punishes women who dare to contravene social norms (Ruth’s mother suffered appallingly for marrying against her family’s wishes and Dorothea wants to marry a policeman - unbeknownst to her father - rather than to move in fashionable society and ‘marry well’). At times, with all its cruelty and appalling working conditions, it felt a little reading newspaper reports of modern-day ‘slavery’. Apparently, it’s based to some degree on the case of a milliner and her daughter, who were hanged in 1762 for appalling mistreatment of one of their young apprentices. It took me some time to ‘get into the novel’ but, in the end, I found it rather spellbinding, sinister, very cleverly written and really quite gripping… *no spoilers* Was I utterly convinced by the ending? Well, yes and no… but it certainly left me pondering – which is never a bad thing! Can’t wait for the discussion!   
English Cricket (Neville Cardus): I handed over a load of my old cricket books to a very nice bookseller at Gloucestershire’s Cheltenham Cricket Festival last week and, because I rather like reading Neville Cardus waxing lyrical about the ‘old, innocent cricketing days of yesterday’, I took this book away with me. Published in 1945 and my copy had a fountain pen inscription on the inside cover: “Ron from Mary (Ann). 27 May 1947” which felt a little surreal – Ron and Mary being the names of my father and mother! The book outlines the broad history and development of the game, together with background, statistics and stories about some of its more prominent characters. I loved some of the posed/contrived action photographs of individual batsmen, bowlers and fielders. Having read a number Cardus’s books, there was very little that was particularly new, but it acted as a gentle reminder of cricket in different ages – games between ‘Gentlemen’ and ‘Players’; players of the mid-19^th century all wearing top hats; a time when all that seemed to matter was “fighting the good fight chivalrously and decisively”!). Predictably romantic, nostalgic and enjoyable.

trio de profundis…

A really excellent concert tonight given by Franziska Wientges (piano), Olivia Weissgerber (violin) and Chun Yin Pang (cello) performing works by Clara Schumann (Piano Trio op 17), Dmitri Shostakovich (Five Pieces for Violin, Cello and Piano) and Felix Mendelssohn (Piano Trio op 49). These three young, highly-talented musicians from the renowned Hanover University of Music, Drama and Media in Germany took time off from their studies to perform at Saint Stephen’s Church, Bristol as part of their first UK tour.
Engaging, energetic and compelling.

amélie, the musical … on stage at the old vic

Moira and I went along to the Old Vic this afternoon to see Mike Fentiman’s stage musical interpretation (written by Craig Lucas, with music by Daniel Messé) of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s classic 2001 film, starring the wonderful Audrey Tautou.
You probably know the ‘story’: It features a young French girl who helps strangers find love and happiness. Amélie is a waitress in a Parisian café and she sees it as her mission in life to right wrongs and improve the lives of her customers. But she proves rather less successful at bettering her own lot…
It just so happens that the film version is perhaps my all-time favourite film – I’ve watched it LOADS of times and absolutely adore it. So, you can imagine that I had somewhat mixed emotions at the prospect of seeing it performed on the stage… excitement mixed with a fear that it could all go horribly wrong!
How would they be able capture the magic of Paris? Would there be a terrific voice-over narrator similar to the film? Surely they wouldn’t be able to recreate all the scenes (or the wonderful characters)? They CERTAINLY wouldn’t dream of changing the iconic soundtrack, would they? How on earth would they find ANYONE to match Audrey Tautou?
Well, I for one, found it absolutely wonderful.

It’s a fast-moving production – featuring 36 songs which merge into each other rather effortlessly – with a cast of 16 incredibly talented performers who all act (multi-characters), sing and play instruments. Audrey Brisson plays Amélie and Danny Mac plays Nino, her mysterious friend.

The entire production is both inventive and impressive… and the music WAS entirely different to the film score (but utterly convincing and appropriate). Given the complexity of the original film, it was clearly impossible to recreate some of the scenes quite as effectively – and, indeed, some scenes had to be cut out and/or adapted. But the stage design was quite brilliant – with pianos instantly being transformed into shop display stands, photo kiosks into confessional stalls. At times, there’s almost a sense of circus – with Amélie being effortlessly transported from the stage into her upper floor apartment by way of rope. The actors use a puppet to convey the young Amélie – and quite beautifully played it is too. There’s a wonderful scene that features the garden gnome on its return from a tour of the world… and there’s also an audacious Elton John tribute song at the end of Act 1.
Hopefully, you’re getting a sense that I really enjoyed it?

Obviously, the biggest worry for me was the ‘leading lady’. No one would be able to replace Audrey Tautou for me… and YET, Audrey Brisson was something of a revelation. I thought she was absolutely wonderful! Apparently, our daughter Hannah thought I’d probably ‘fall in love’ with Brisson… and I think she was probably right! As well as convincingly looking and dressing like the Amélie in the film, Brisson also has a wonderful singing voice, an impressive athleticism (for nimbly jumping up on to upright pianos and being transported to her upper floor apartment, as you do) and a brilliantly expressive (and beautiful) face.

The audience loved it. I loved it. The sad thing is that its brief tour run at the Old Vic finishes on Saturday (20 July)… and I’m pretty sure that most of the tickets have already been sold. BUT, if you can get yourself a ticket (even if it’s one of those ‘standing tickets’), then I urge you to go.
PS: The ONE thing that spoilt things was the woman sitting immediately in front of me. She spent the ENTIRE performance leaning towards her adult daughter(?) and commenting on EVERYTHING that was happening on stage (or simply observations that had occurred to her in passing). Believe me, I came VERY close to letting her know my feelings!! Aaargh!!

 

cheltenham cricket festival, 2019…

I went to Cheltenham yesterday to watch day 3 (of 4) of Gloucestershire’s game against Leicestershire. It also gave me the opportunity of passing on a whole load of second-hand cricket books… although carrying them all to Temple Meads and then to the ground (amounting in total to a 70 minute walk) was something of a pain – literally!
It’s always fascinating travelling to a cricket match by train… you can spot a ‘supporter’ instantly (invariably male, grey-haired, aged, wearing a floppy hat, frequently wearing ill-fitting shorts, sun-tanned, carrying an old rucksack containing sandwiches, drink and newspaper etc)… and you join a line of them, making their gentle way from the station to the ground at 30 metres intervals. Maps are not required!
But I had a lovely day.
The setting, at Cheltenham College (despite, or because of, all its privileged associations), is quintessentially English and I spent the day simply watching the cricket, watching the people, sketching and consuming the odd glass of beer.
As a bonus, the cricket was pretty good too! Replying to Leicestershire’s 252 all out, Gloucestershire had started the day on 275-6 (having lost their last four wickets for something like 40 runs)… and there seemed every chance of the innings petering out tamely. But, actually, it was the complete opposite. The overnight batsmen, Jack Taylor and Benny Howell, added 157 runs – before Taylor was disappointingly bowled one short of his century. Gloucestershire ended the day declaring 252 runs ahead and going on to take two Leicestershire wickets for 78 runs.
So, a gentle day’s cricket in the sunshine.
During the course of the afternoon (especially in the hour immediately after lunch), I COULD have taken at least half a dozen photographs of aged cricket spectators slumped asleep in their seats, completely dead to the world… but I resisted the temptation! Had they seen Taylor’s dismissal? What about Bamber’s stumping at the end of the innings? Actually, they will invariably invent their own accounts of the day’s play… and that’s just fine!
Not very often that you see a side scoring over 500 runs in an innings in County Cricket these days… but I was there!
Photo: If you look closely, you might be able to spot the ball… the batsman’s advanced down the wicket (with the intention of hitting a six over long-on), missed it… and completely fooled the wicket-keeper, who’s also missed it!

bristol metropolitan orchestra plays mahler’s symphony no.5…

Last night, Moira and I went to the rather wonderful Clifton Cathedral to hear/see the Bristol Metropolitan Orchestra perform Gustav Mahler’s Symphony no.5 and extracts from Ethyl Smith’s ‘The Wreckers’.
Mahler’s fifth is probably my very favourite piece of classical music (quite possibly because I associate it with one of my favourite films, Visconti’s ‘Death in Venice’ – which I’ve watched SEVERAL times!), so I was particularly looking forward to the evening. As ever on such occasions, there’s always a fear that the performers won’t do the piece justice and that the evening will prove somewhat disappointing.
Well, I needn’t have worried. The Metropolitan Orchestra was superb!
There’s something rather quite intoxicating to hear a large orchestra in ‘full voice’ and this was the second time I’d heard the BMO perform (conductor: Michael Cobb; leader: Anneka Sutcliffe). The programme notes refer to the working backgrounds to several of its players – including anaesthetists, paediatric nurses, engineers and IT developers. My very good friend Ed (a retired teacher) plays the French Horn.
Their next concert will be at St George’s in Bristol on Saturday 16 November (Elgar’s ‘Cello Concerto’ and Stravinsky’s ‘Firebird Suite’).
A really excellent evening in the company of highly-talented performers.
Photo: Bristol Metropolitan Orchestra at Clifton Cathedral last night.
PS: Mention of 'Death in Venice'  (which starred Dirk Bogarde as Gustav von Aschenbach) brought to mind the postcard and comments I received from Bogarde in response to my letter to him in appreciation of his three volume set of biographies... I've just checked and found it tucked into one of his books, dated 8 October 1990. Blimey, that's getting on for 30 years ago!!

june-july 2019 books…

Cold Earth (Ann Cleeves): The penultimate book in the series (I’m already feeling a sense of grieving). As usual with Cleeves’s ‘Shetland’ books, I gobbled this one up in less than three days. Another clever, intriguing plot (centred around the discovery of a body after torrential rain had triggered a landslide). Even when the weather is pretty grim, the books reveal a wonderful ‘sense of place’ which I find utterly alluring. Excellent.
The Patience Of The Spider (Andrea Camilleri): I came across two more Montalbano books in ‘The Last Bookshop’ the other day, and here’s the first of them. Yes, I know, escapist stuff to avoid Trump, Brexit etc – but it’s helped a little! Yes, all somewhat predictable: Montalbano’s ongoing cynicism of authority and rule books, Sicily, sunshine, food, beautiful women, crazy characters, lots of humour… but also a pretty clever plot. The formula works for me!  
Optimism Over Despair (Noam Chomsky): I’ve blogged separately about this book so, rather than repeating myself, it’s probably easier to check out my blogpost, if you’re interested. Given my own current sense of desperation and hopelessness about what’s currently going on in our world, I came across the book in our wonderful local bookshop, Storysmith Books, and thought I definitely needed to read it! On the cover of Chomsky’s book were the following words: “We have two choices. We can be pessimistic, give up, and help ensure that the worst will happen. Or we can be optimistic, grasp the opportunities that surely exist, and maybe help make the world a better place”. In the event, although it’s an absolutely fascinating and thought-provoking book, it hardly addressed the matter of “Optimism Over Despair” at all and, ultimately, I was left feeling disappointed (and it relates to interviews conducted from late 2013 to early 2017, so hardly touches on the ‘Trump era’ at all – which, for many of us, has limited our reasons for optimism even further!).
Rounding The Mark (Andrea Camilleri): This is the second of my latest Montalbano books (comments as for the previous one above!). I think part of the attraction for me is that I could readily change places with him and sit on his veranda, drink a glass of wine and stare out across the sea. Amongst other things, the plot revolves around refugees making perilous journeys to Italy on overcrowded boats and, in particular, the trafficking of immigrant children. There was a sobering footnote at the end of the book which referred to depressing statistics on the illegal immigration of minors into Italy shown on a 2002 edition of ‘Panorama’ (ie. sobering for me that such issues had been continuing for such a long time)(the book’s English translation was first published in 2007). But, although some of the story contains such sinister references, it also includes the usual ‘farcical ingenuity’ (in the words of the New York Times critic) that I love.   
Climbing Days (Dan Richards): I freely admit that I’m petrified of heights… but I do love reading books about mountaineering and mountains! This is rather lovely, engaging, affectionate book was inspired by the author’s great-great-aunt Dorothy/Dorothea Pilley Richards (1894-1986), a prominent and pioneering mountaineer of the early 20th century (and coincidentally, a contemporary of fellow mountain-lover Nan Shepherd 1893-1981 – author of ‘The Living Mountain’, that I recently read). By chance, Dan Richards came across her 1935 memoir (also called ‘Climbing Days’) and this, in turn, led him on a journey to discover more about this rather remarkable lady. In some ways, the book has similarities with “Wrestliana” by Toby Litt (I read it earlier this year): Litt’s great-great-great-great grandfather had been a champion Cumberland and he decided to write about the man, his family and his sport. Dan Richards explores (in a gentle, wandering way) some of the places linked to Pilley, including the rather wonderful Pinnacle Club, Snowdonia, (formed in 1921 and the first climbing club founded by women for women alone), people who’d met Dorothy (or their relatives), mountain guides, her family and friends. She was obviously a very determined, independent lady who rebelled against the conventional, limiting, chaperoned roles frequently identified for women of the time. In 1928, she made the celebrated first ascent (with her husband Ivor Richards) of the north/north-west ridge of the Dent Blanche, Switzerland. Although the author never knew her, he re-traces some of Dorothy’s old destinations and routes (from her book and her diaries) – including actually climbing Dent Blanche for himself, via the ‘straightforward route’ – in what turns out to be an intimate pilgrimage of discovery of family history, of new friendships and of the restlessness of the human spirit. Beautifully and entertainingly written. I loved it.

optimism over despair…

"We have two choices. We can be pessimistic, give up, and help ensure that the worst will happen. Or we can be optimistic, grasp the opportunities that surely exist, and maybe help make the world a better place”.
The above words were on the cover of Noam Chomsky’s book “Optimism Over Despair”. Given my own current sense of desperation and hopelessness about what’s currently going on in our world, I (obviously) thought: This book is for me!

I’ve previously read various articles by Chomsky (born in 1928) and had also watched bits from a couple of his lectures on YouTube, but this was my first book of his. He is a hugely impressive man. The book was published in 2017 and represents his interviews with CJ Polychroniou from late 2013 to early 2017 (originally published in ‘Truthout’)(so barely touches Trump’s time as president).

Chomsky has been described as “America’s moral conscience” (even if, according to the book’s introduction, “he remains unknown to the majority of Americans”).
It’s an absolutely fascinating, thought-provoking book… BUT, in the end, I felt that I’d been hood-winked. I think I would probably have a good case under the Trades Description Act, 1968.
The book consists of 196 dense pages of text – essentially focussing on the USA. They provide insights into the consequences of capitalist globalisation. They analyse the state of the planet. They tell us how we got here. They explain the motivations of those on the world stage… BUT they do NOT inform us why we should feel optimistic rather than desperate. Indeed, the quote at the top of the page is the ONLY reference to ‘optimism over despair’ in the entire book… and it comes at the very end of the book (ie. the final paragraph of P196!) in response to the question: “Are you overall optimistic about the future of humanity, given the kind of creatures we are?”… and, in fact, the quote is not complete – because Chomsky added five more words at the end of it: “Not much of a choice”! In fact, this concluding chapter was written in February 2016 – nine months before Trump’s election – so who knows if he still thinks there’s a case for optimism today?
Did the book make me feel better informed about the ways of the world, unfettered corporate expansion, the effects of unmitigated climate change, illegal wars? Yes, of course I did.
Did the book make me feel less desperate and more optimistic? Absolutely not (indeed quite the reverse – and it was published before Trump had settled into his new ‘role’ and before the ramifications of Brexit here in the UK had begun to unfold).

It would be foolhardy of me to try to summarise Chomsky’s views on the incredibly wide-ranging number of issues covered in the book, but I’ll leave you with just a few extracts (apologies for their great length, but they include some interesting stuff in my view!):

·         “It is well established that electoral campaigns are designed so as to marginalise issues and focus on personalities, rhetorical style, body language and the like. And there are good reasons. Party managers read polls and are well aware that on a host of major issues, both parties are well to the right of the population – not surprisingly; they are, after all, business parties”.

·         “A recent IMF study attributes the profits of the big banks almost entirely to the implicit government insurance policy (‘too big to fail’), not just the widely publicised bailouts but access to cheap credit, favourable ratings because of state guarantee, and much else”.
·         “But the big banks, which were responsible for the latest crisis, are bigger and richer than ever. Corporate profits are breaking records, wealth beyond the dreams of avarice is accumulating among those who count, and labour is severely weakened by union busting and ‘growing worker insecurity’, to borrow the term Alan Greenspan used in explaining the grand success of the economy he managed, when he was still ‘Sir Alan’ – perhaps the greatest economist since Adam Smith, before the collapse of the structure he had administered, along with its intellectual foundations. So what is there to complain about?”.
·         “JP Morgan Chase has just been fined $13billion (half of it tax-deductible) for what should be regarded as criminal behaviour in fraudulent mortgage schemes, from which the usual victims suffer under hopeless burdens of debt… The inspector-general of the US government bailout programme, Neil Barofsky, pointed out that it was officially a legislative bargain: the banks that were the culprits were to be bailed out, and their victims, people losing their homes, were to be given some limited protection and support. As he explains, only the first part of the bargain was seriously honoured, and the plan became a ‘giveaway to Wall Street executives’ – to the surprise of no one who understands ‘really existing capitalism’. The list goes on”.
·         “Democrats have to face the fact that for forty years they have pretty much abandoned whatever commitment they had to working people”.
·         (Reference to Goldman Sachs ‘surging stock price’ following Trump’s election and…): “Other big gainers are energy corporations, health insurers, and construction firms, all expecting huge profits from the administration’s announced plans. These include Paul Ryan-style fiscal programme of tax cuts for the rich and corporations, increased military spending, turning the health system over even more to insurance companies with predictable consequences, taxpayer largesse for a privatised form of credit-based infrastructure development, and other ‘normal Republican’ gifts to wealth and privilege at taxpayer expense. Rather plausibly, economist Larry Summers describes the fiscal programme as ‘the most misguided set of tax changes in US history which will massively favour the top 1% of income earners, threaten an explosive rise in federal debt, complicate the tax code and do little if anything to spur growth’. But great news for those who matter”.
·         “Prestigious and influential positions in Congress used to be granted to on the basis of seniority and perceived achievement. Now they are basically bought, which drives congressional representatives even deeper into the pockets of the rich. And the Supreme Court decisions have accelerated the process”.
·         “On November 8 (2016), the most powerful country in world history, which will set its stamp on what comes next, had an election. The outcome placed total control of the government – executive, Congress, the Supreme Court – in the hands of the Republican Party, which has become the most dangerous organisation in world history… The party is dedicated to racing as rapidly as possible to destruction of organised human life… The winning candidate, now president-elect, calls for rapid increase in use of fossil fuels, including coal; dismantling of regulations; rejection of help to developing countries that are seeking to move to sustainable energy; and, in general, racing to the cliff as fast as possible”.
·         “One of the difficulties in raising public concern over the very severe threats of global warming is that 40% of the US population does not see why it is a problem, since Christ is returning in a few decades”.
·         “It is an astonishing fact about the current era that in the most powerful country in world history, with a high level of education and privilege, one of the two political parties virtually denies the well-established facts about anthropogenic climate change. In the primary debates for the 2016 election, every single Republican candidate was a climate change denier, with one exception, John Kasich – the ‘rational moderate’ – who said it may be happening but we shouldn’t do anything about it”.
·         “Concentration of wealth leads naturally to concentration of power, which in turn translates to legislation favouring interests of the rich and powerful and thereby increasing even further the concentration of power and wealth… It’s a vicious cycle in constant progress. The state is there to provide security and support to the interests of the privileged and powerful sectors of society, while the rest of the population is left to experience the brutal reality of capitalism. Socialism for the rich, capitalism for the poor”.
·         “Trump supporters include much of the white working-class. One can understand their anger and frustration, and why Trump’s rhetoric might appeal to them. But they are betting on the wrong horse. His policy proposals – to the limited extent that they are coherent – not only do not seriously address their legitimate concerns but would be quite harmful to them. And not just to them”.
·         “Since oppression and repression exist, they are reflections of human nature. The same is true of sympathy, solidarity, kindness, and concern for others – and for some great figures, like Adam Smith, these were essential properties of humans. The task for social policy is to design the ways we live and the institutional and cultural structure of our lives so as to favour the benign and to suppress the harsh and destructive aspects of our fundamental nature”.
·         “There are two grim shadows that loom over everything that we consider: environmental catastrophe and nuclear war, the latter threat much under-estimated, in my view”.
Much food for thought… and very little of it feeling suitable for consumption.

stormzy at glastonbury…

The ability to convey powerful messages that resonate in these hugely difficult times - when the current world of politics, war and greed seems SO different from so many of our own desires and expectations – is an amazing gift.  
I found watching Stormzy at Glastonbury (on the tv!) utterly mesmerising.
Compelling music, charismatic performance, stunning staging and infectious energy. But what I found most forceful and impressive was the ability for music and words to convey massively important messages to the people-in-power… to condemn the issues that allowed Grenfell to happen (and shaming those responsible for allowing them to happen)… for the London Bridge victims (and those who failed to spot the warnings)… for the Windrush shaming farce… speak out about the injustice of young black kids being criminalised in a biased and disproportionate justice systemto speak out about the "injustice of young black kids being criminalised and disproportionate justice system" (in David Lammy’s words)… and so it continues.
A rapper who has become an icon.
An amazing example of someone who was a self-confessed “very naughty child, on the verge of being expelled from school”, but who found he could do well in exams… and discovered that A Levels showed him that in life “you need work ethic”. He’s intelligent, hugely articulate and has become the voice of so many people who feel that they don’t have a voice… (and, as a bonus, it seems that he’s a really nice bloke… and a man of faith).
Are you listening UK politicians?
Are you listening world?
PS: He also got the crowd to advise the world what they thought of Boris Johnson!
PPS: Check this out: “Blinded by your Grace: Part 2”

 

diego maradona...

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Asif Kapadia’s film “Diego Maradona”. It wasn’t that I was particularly motivated to see a film about a famous footballer, more about avoiding UK politics for a couple of hours…
Obviously, I knew the ‘story’ – brilliant, charismatic, star footballer (we’ll ignore the ‘Hand of God’!) emerging from background of poverty… goes on to captain the Argentine World Cup-winning team and also inspire an ailing Italian football team (Napoli) into becoming league champions (twice)… and, of course, in the process of his growing fame and fortune, he also developed a reputation for being a womaniser, for links with the local ‘mafia’ gang and for hard drugs (which, it seems, the club knew about but ridiculously managed to get other players to donate urine samples on his behalf)(the drug-monitoring rules were obviously pretty ‘basic’ in the 1980s!).
There’s absolutely no doubt that Maradona was an incredibly gifted footballer and much of the football footage shows him at his most mesmerising. He joined Naples football club in 1984; although they had fanatical support, they had massively underachieved and had never won a major trophy. Naples itself was an utterly dysfunctional city. Amazingly, Maradona quickly led the club to their first ever title. The man was duly hailed as a hero… there’s a wonderful clip in the film when Napoli won the league and the fans in the city went wild with delight: someone had hung a large banner outside one of cemeteries, saying (in Italian, obviously!): “You Don’t Know What You Missed!”. However, as the magic later faded, he became a virtual prisoner in the city as he lapsed into drug-taking and despair. His ultimate humiliation probably came when Argentina knocked Italy out of the 1990 World Cup (on penalties) in, of all places, Napoli – and, before the match, Maradona had pleaded with the Napoli supporters to back Argentina!
It felt a bit like watching a documentary about George Best – a hugely-gifted footballer who was readily knocked off the rails by the lure of money, sex, drugs and alcohol.
It was rather depressing to watch images of this footballing idol change from lithe athlete to an over-weight, bloated, incoherent has-been (ok, he’s endeavoured to ‘repair’ himself over recent years, but not altogether successfully).
If you have a fascination in football, I feel sure you’ll find this an interesting film (although I think the bloke sitting behind me actually fell asleep!).
Towards the end of the film, someone described Maradona thus:
“Rebel. Cheat. Hero. God.”
I can’t improve on that.

more june 2019 books…

Thin Air (Ann Cleeves): I’m fast running out of ‘Shetland’ stories (this is the sixth – which means I’ve only got two more to go!). As usual, despite the books being nearly 400 pages in length, I gobbled it up in less than three days. Yes, some might regard such crime novels as ‘escapist’ reading material, but I really do love the books – the storylines, the landscape, the culture and the characters (especially Jimmy Perez). This book was no exception - another intriguing plot (a wedding guest from London disappears without trace or explanation and various references to stories about the ghost of a 10 year-old girl who died in 1930) and I love the linking narratives that run throughout the series. Excellent.
Conversations With Friends (Sally Rooney): This is my second Rooney novel (it’s actually HER first one, but I always seem to read stuff out of order). It’s about relationships – specifically between four ‘friends’ (some more intimate than others) – seen through the eyes of a 21 year-old woman (bright/student/poetry-performer). Of course, these relationships are somewhat complicated (it would have been a pretty boring book otherwise): misunderstandings, vulnerabilities, misinterpreted remarks, nuanced glances (are there such things?), witty conversations, sex (I’m getting old!), disintegrating friendships, self-destructive actions, walking on eggshells… you get the general idea. Actually, I didn’t really warm to any of the main protagonists, but Rooney’s writing style is quite brilliant (sharp, clever and wonderfully observed)… and I found the story surprisingly compelling. Very impressive.    
Washington Black (Esi Edugyan): This is our local bookshop’s Book Group’s latest book (my second since I joined). The novel tells the story of 11-year-old slave (Washington Black) on a Barbados sugar plantation in the 19th century. The plot is bizarre (to put it mildly): Black’s English master is obsessed with developing a machine that can fly; a man gets killed; the master and Black flee to the Arctic (as you do) - with Black then travelling to Nova Scotia, London, Amsterdam and Morocco… oh, and there’s also family history, hideous injuries, art, a woman, a bounty-hunter, zoology… and lots of stuff about racism and slavery. Although the book doesn’t say so, Edugyan (in an interview) indicated that she’d come across the story of a Victorian Englishman who’d been shipwrecked, presumed dead, off the coast of South America; his mother refused to believe he was dead (rumours about him turning up in Australia) so she sent a member of her household (a former slave) off to try and find him… and that had been the inspiration of this book. The novel was shortlisted the 2018 Man Booker Prize and so I was full of high expectations. Frankly, I was pretty disappointed. Although Edugyan is an excellent writer, I found the twists and turns in the storyline (as well as the ‘plot’ itself) ridiculously absurd, irritatingly fanciful, hugely unconvincing and, to my mind, with far, far too many strands. The book felt a bit like a cross between Jules Verne, Robinson Crusoe, Indiana Jones and Roots. Having subsequently read all the words of praise from a multitude of critics (eg. “astonishing”, “magnificent”, “terrifically exciting”, “nothing short of a masterpiece”), I realise that I’m probably the only person in the world who wasn’t completely captivated by the book… and that I’ll probably be given a hard time by my book group friends in due course!    
The Vegetarian (Han Kang): Talking of somewhat strange books… It’s difficult to categorise this short novel (Ian McEwan described it as a ‘novel of sexuality and madness”). Perhaps something along the lines of: compelling, disturbing, strange, extraordinary and defiant? It explores the life of a young South Korean woman and it challenges the strict value system that demands devotion to the family and conformism (and, while we’re about it, the denial of erotic freedom). It starts with the woman announcing (after a dream) that she’s become a vegetarian (for goodness sake!). Her family is horrified and tries to force-feed her meat; her father beats her in front of the whole family; and she’s sent to a psychiatric hospital. It’s in three parts: the first narrator is woman’s husband (a businessman - who thought he had chosen a spouse with an “insignificant personality” – and who is gradually horrified to discover her radical spirit which threatens his career and status!); part two focuses on the explicit, sexually-charged relationship between the woman and her brother in law; part three is told by the woman’s sister, who ultimately becomes her sole carer. Haunting, hugely challenging and darkly beautiful.
The Peregrine (JA Baker): First published 50 years ago, this book is being used by a few of us ‘blokes’ at church as a ‘try out’ for an occasional book group. It was compiled over a ten year period, from 1954 until 1964, by (in Robert Macfarland’s words) a ‘myopic, arthritis office-worker from Essex’ who tracked the peregrine falcons that hunted over the Essex landscape (over an area of some 200sq miles) on bicycle and on foot, watching through binoculars (his wife made him sandwiches and flasks of tea!). I’m not someone who’s particularly fascinated by birds, but this is a quite remarkable book. Baker (1926-87) seems to have an uncanny and incredible ability to detect a peregrine in flight or at rest as a matter of second-nature. It’s almost as if he trained himself to think like a peregrine. I think I’m someone who is pretty good at ‘looking’, but this book made me realise just how much (certainly as far as nature is concerned) I miss. The bulk of the book takes the form of a winter diary (including the savage winter of 1962-63) - describing the pergerine’s ‘kills’, its habitat, its prey, its need for daily bathing, its flight and Baker’s determination and devotion to follow individual peregrines over prolonged periods (none of your GPS devices or drones here!). His descriptions are incredibly detailed; at times, almost unbelievable in their clarity – accounts of things happening more than half a mile away. Indeed, I frequently found myself questioning whether or not it was what he saw or just what he thought he saw! I found myself reading the book in half-dozen page snatches - that is in no way a criticism, simply the best way I found to absorb the text as fully as possible. Baker is obsessed by the bird; he appreciates and understands that the peregrine overcomes its prey “by exploitation of weaknesses rather than superior power”. His painstaking observations, his detailed knowledge of the area’s geography and its wildlife are quite magical… and the language is lyrical, uncompromising, energetic and quite extraordinary. Despite the passion of his descriptions, one gets the impression that Baker was very much a ‘loner’ and not someone taken to making ‘wild gestures’ in public… so I was very taken by this diary note: “She drifted idly; remote, inimical. She balanced in the wind, two thousand feet above, while the white cloud passed beyond her and went across the estuary to the south. Slowly her wings curved back. She slipped smoothly through the wind, as though she were moving forward on a wire. This mastery of the roaring wind, this majesty and noble power of flight, made me shout aloud and dance up and down with excitement…”! A truly beautiful book in every sense.

“visual arts that have influenced my life and faith”…

I was asked to be one of three panel members at the next Resonate evening (the brilliant bi-monthly Tuesday evening gathering in Saint Stephen’s ‘Secret Café’, Bristol). The subject was to ‘present and discuss visual arts that have influenced our lives and our faith’…
No pressure then!
Coming up with examples of visual arts that have influenced my life was relatively straightforward (although ‘influenced’ is perhaps too strong a word?) – except that, of course, my ‘selection’ one week would be entirely different to my choices the following week! I duly started to add examples to a folder on my desktop… easy peasy. The problem was merely ‘when to stop’!
But then I received a message from one of the lovely organisers, suggesting that each of us panel members just come up with two examples. Just TWO! Blimey… how on earth will I be able to limit my choice to two, for goodness sake?

Image #1: Visual arts that have influenced my life?

So, of ALL the images I’d amassed, I had to pick just one. It’s ridiculously difficult and, like anyone’s ‘Desert Island Disc’ selections, the top-pick would change all the time:
FALLING WATER/FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT:
This sketch (by Wright, 1935) encapsulates my growing interest (and awareness) in architecture when I was still at school. It hasn’t influenced my faith (I wasn’t a Christian until I was 24)… but it started me off on a journey…
I was just starting A level Art, aged 15 (because I was in the ‘fast stream’ at school, I’d been forced to drop Art at the end of first year - but managed to persuade the powers-that-be to allow me to take O level Art in my final pre-sixth form year), and decided to take the ‘history of architecture’ option (for no special reason). I subsequently became fascinated by the likes of Le Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe, Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Frank Lloyd Wright… and also found myself REPEATEDLY taking out a book of architectural illustrations by Helmut Jacoby from our local public library (I swear I was the only person who EVER borrowed the book – and it felt as though it was really ‘mine’!). I later went on to study Architecture at university and, subsequently (in the days before computer-aided design etc!), tried to emulate the skills of Wright(!) and Jacoby in my own architectural practice – well, my work did include quite a few sketch perspectives for clients. So, it seems entirely appropriate for Image #1 to be an architectural illustration by Frank Lloyd Wright.

And then of course was the ‘other’ question: ‘visual arts that have influenced my FAITH’?

Well, the straight answer is: I can’t think of ANY art that has specifically influenced my faith… I REALLY can’t. I’ve attended talks by artists who have waxed lyrical on similar subjects but who, frankly, merely managed to wind me up by their somewhat gushing views (or maybe I was just simply jealous?)!

Image #2: Visual arts that have influenced my faith?

A couple of weeks ago, I came across this comment by a writer from Yale University’s Divinity School: “The urgent needs of the world force artists of faith to ask what truly matters in each note, paint stroke, or stanza”.
Whilst I’m sure this is true for some artists, this DEFINITELY doesn’t apply to me…
The trouble is that I simply draw what I see.
I’m NOT trying to send any sort of message out to the wider world. I don’t try to produce ironic (or iconic!), meaningful, passionate images conveying subliminal statements.
I do admit that taking photographs is somewhat different – frequently trying to ‘capture the moment’ (people, action, clouds, sunrises, sunsets …) – stuff that has gone forever within milliseconds or minutes.

It might be more relevant to ask: “is what I draw or photograph influenced by my faith?”. Perhaps the nearest I come to combining visual art with faith is encapsulated in Mary Oliver’s poem ‘Upstream’, when she writes: “attention is the beginning of devotion” (the poem issues a warning about “looking without noticing” – which has been my mantra for perhaps the last 25 years).

I found it incredibly difficult to come up with an appropriate image… but this piece of work perhaps comes close:
ANOTHER PLACE, ANTONY GORMLEY, CROSBY, 2005:
100 cast iron identical figures on Crosby beach.
It hasn’t influenced my faith, but it feels like something of a metaphor for my spiritual journey… All the figures look out to sea; there’s a sense of awareness, of looking, of seeing; something about man’s relationship with nature and the world; the challenges; the ebb+flow of the tide; things constantly changing (weather, night+day, water levels, barnacles, grafitti etc).
Gormley said this about his ‘Another Place’ artwork and I think it fits in with my own perception of the work: “I want to see whether it’s possible for art to be everyone’s, in the same way that the sky is and it still seems to me, that that is the most exciting challenge in art. Can you make the conditions that surround us all the time, into an arena for a kind of awareness that wouldn’t exist before, and I guess Another Place is a good example of this, where we have a beach, we have tide, we have changing conditions of weather and night and day and into that you insert these works, but adequately spaced, to allow for people to walk between them and in fact it’s the space between that is critical always in the work.”

Has my appreciation of the visual arts changed as a result of becoming a Christian? I’m not sure. What is true perhaps is that my faith has helped shape the way I see the world – its beauty, design, colour, creativity, tolerance, wonder, simplicity, peace, connectedness and humanity.

For me, the visual arts play an important role in stimulating imagination and creativity, reflection and perception; they open one’s eyes to new possibilities, they question and they reveal… and those are also the characteristics that I want my faith to have.
PS: The images I’d originally ‘highlighted’ included work from the following: Le Corbusier, Frank Lloyd Wright, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Charles Rennie MacKintosh, Joseph Southall, Grayson Perry, Turner, Pre-Raphaelites, Stanley Spencer, Bauhaus, David Hockney, The Bloomsbury Group, Habitat, Modigliani, Richard Long, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Helmut Jacoby, Antony Gormley, Hugh Casson, Eric Ravilious, Tirzah Garwood, Don McCullin, Eric Gill, Fred Taylor, Frida Kahlo, Laura Knight, Michelangelo, Raphael, Jane Bown, Albrecht Dürer, 2001 Space Odyssey, Twiggy/Ronald Traeger, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Si Smith… but it could easily have been DOZENS more.

sunset…

I went to the Watershed this morning along with lovely friends Jeanette, Jeff and Ed to see Laszlo Nemes’s “Sunset”. It’s set in Budapest in 1913, in the death-throes of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and on the eve of WW1. A young woman (Irisz Leiter, brilliantly played by Juli Jakab)(who looks a lot like Emma Watson to me) returns to the city, after being fostered at the age of two under mysterious circumstances. She hopes to work as a milliner at the famous Leiter store that once belonged to her parents (who died in a fire on the premises after which the store was rebuilt and re-established as a lucrative concern). The new owner clearly doesn’t want her there and buys her a first class ticket to leave. However, the intrepid Irisz refuses to obey and is drawn into the city’s dark turmoil and the uncertainty about her past.

 

It’s a long, mesmerising film (142 minutes); beautifully shot (with slightly washed-out colour)(ok, I’m no good at the technical stuff!) and featuring LOTS of excellent hats! It’s not always clear what is happening - but that, to my mind, felt perfectly acceptable and in keeping with the film’s mystery. There’s a sense of Irisz wanting to claim back a place in the family business; there’s uncertainty about the existence of her brother (and even that he might have caused the fire that killed his parents); and there’s a distinctly threatening undercurrent throughout the film… almost a metaphor for the events that were about emerge in 1914.

I felt totally absorbed throughout and was hugely impressed.
PS: It seems that not everyone was quite as enthusiastic about the film as me… I noticed one postcard on the Watershed’s ‘feedback board’ simply asking: “What was that all about then?!”

may-june 2019 books…

Dead Water (Ann Cleeves): This is the fifth Ann Cleeves’ Shetland book I’ve read and I’ve just ordered number six! I think(?) there are only eight in the series and am already beginning to panic at the thought of the Shetland book ‘wilderness’ yet to come!  Detective Perez is gradually returning to work after been given ‘compassionate sick leave’ after his last crime-solving adventure (*nospoilers*!). A young detective inspector is drafted in to investigate… she’s young and keen to prove her worth and is a little in awe of (and somewhat frustrated by) Perez’s quiet reputation. Another beautifully constructed, elegant and very satisfying story. As usual, I consumed it in a couple of days!
Letters To A Friend (Diana Athill): I’ve loved reading Athill’s books (she died earlier this year, age 91). For nearly five decades, she acted as editor for some of the most celebrated writers in the English language. This is a book of letters (1981-2007!) belonging to Athill’s dear friend Edward Field, an American poet, to whom they were written. They started the correspondence when he’d asked for her help in reviving the reputation of his friend, Alfred Chester, who had died in 1971. Athill is wonderfully eloquent, self-deprecating, funny and delightfully crude! It’s almost as if you can hear her talking when reading her books. During the course of her eighties, she refers to her absolute dependency on her car to get herself from A to B while, at the same time, makes endless references to her poor eyesight (she refused cataract operations for years). Somewhat alarming that, following eye surgery, she suddenly exclaimed that she could actually SEE to drive! She was clearly an absolute liability on the road and would never have passed the sight test! Again through her eighties, there are regular references to her having receiving court summonses for failing to pay parking fines (because she’d forgotten) and for driving for a year without having renewed her road tax! For years, quite understandably, she refused to be tempted by computers and emails (handwriting everything)… but the last quarter of the book is dominated (setting aside health issues) by hilarious references to her battles with technology (when she did finally decide to change her ways). For example: ”For the last three days when I’ve tried to see what e-mails have come in, it has said that it is about to access seven new ones, and that little arrow which starts pouring into a box has got to work, but nothing has appeared, and when it reaches four of seven it has just gone on and on and on saying that it is doing that one, for as much as twenty minutes, and still nothing appears!”. Hugely entertaining. A rather extraordinary lady. 
Normal People (Sally Rooney): This is Rooney’s second novel; I haven’t read the first, but I will. Rooney is in her mid-twenties and, it seems, is a born writer who has the apparently effortless ability to write sparse, mesmerising dialogue that is uplifting, tense, tender and insightful all at the same time. I absolutely loved her writing style. The book is set in the student world of Dublin and focuses on two friends – both brilliant students, coming from different social classes – who see the world through similar eyes (with one or two exceptions), but who frequently fail to communicate with each other effectively… which, of course, is often the way it is with young love (although I’m probably too old to remember!). I read it in a day and a half and really enjoyed it.
We Have Always Lived In The Castle (Shirley Jackson): This short novel, first published in 1962, is a strange, haunting, menacing story (it almost gives a sense of being a fairy tale?) told through the eyes of an eighteen year-old female, Merricat. She lives in a large, isolated family house with her older sister Constance and her ill, wheelchair-bound uncle (and her cat) in an unspecified village. According to Merricat, people in the village had always hated them and the family’s interaction is limited to stubborn, twice-weekly shopping trips undertaken by Merricat herself. Six years before, their entire family was poisoned. One of the sisters must surely have been responsible for their deaths, but Constance was duly acquitted and, of course, Merricat was just a child. Merricat is ‘domesticated’ by only person, Constance; we learn of several household tasks that the younger sister isn’t allowed to do (food preparation and handling knives, for example); there’s a sense of ritualistic, poetic ‘madness’ and a quiet, rather scary, sense of horror. It’s a chilling, disturbing and unsettling story – and quite brilliantly written.
Where Shall We Run To? (Alan Garner): I can recall reading (or at least starting to read) Garner’s “The Moon of Gomrath” to our daughters when they were young… but I don’t think I was ever captivated by his world of myth and magic. Garner was born in 1934 and his childhood was spent in Alderley Edge, Cheshire and this book is about his wartime childhood. Written in the first person, in the past tense, it is a charming, funny, gentle recollection of his rural, working class childhood encounters (despite having suffered several life-threatening illnesses which left him bed-ridden for much of the time). People sometimes refer to how childhood memories become vivid again in old age and, certainly, Garner is a bewildering example of such a phenomena (I, on the other hand, seem to have gone through my entire childhood with only a vague recall of events… and very little detail!). Garner is able to remember events, people and words in ridiculous detail (something to do with being a born story-teller perhaps?)… describing all his teachers and his individual classrooms with enormous precision; detailing every house, every carved stone, mysterious well and perilously steep cliff-edge; recalling precise phrases uttered by individuals; and even remembering the names of all his father’s work colleagues(!). At times, I felt Garner was just making things up and showing off – but, deep down, I suspect everything was utterly true… and that I’m just feeling jealous that he has such an amazing memory! A gentle, enjoyable, evocative memoir.