blitz…

I went along to the Watershed again yesterday to see Steve McQueen’s film about the blitz bombing on London in 1940, featuring the always excellent Saoirse Ronan (Rita - ridiculously beautifully-dressed throughout despite all the bombing and destruction!) as the single mother living with her father (rather wonderfully played by Paul Weller!). Her bi-racial son (played by Elliott Heffernan) is evacuated, only to run away in a perilous bid to find her (Rita’s Grenadian partner was harassed by racists and deported).

The film deals with some somewhat unexplored issues: the casually racist attitude to people of colour by British wartime authorities; and ditto their attitudes towards the working class in London’s East End. Of course, there are also the predictable (but impressive) scenes of destruction and suffering, blackouts and shelters, women factory workers and ARP wardens… and, of course, plenty of ‘Blitz spirit’.
Lots of impressive stuff but, for me, I have to say that I found the film a little disappointing (especially given it was written, produced and directed by McQueen). I’d even say it frequently felt somewhat contrived and artificial. A film to watch on the telly on a drab Sunday afternoon maybe but, from my perspective, nothing more. Sorry.

october/november 2024 books…

The Sunshine Corpse (Max Murray): Another of my recent Penguin Crime books from our local Oxfam Bookshop (first published in 1954). A man is found dead in a Florida fruit stall. He was an unpopular man and there are a number of people with good reasons for wishing him dead. One of the people who bore him a grudge is subsequently found dead in the river… the local Sheriff has a difficult case on his hands. The novel is cleverly conceived and yet it left me thinking that the author was just trying to be TOO clever (by half!). The story ends with a flood of conflicting confessions and accusations… which eventually sort themselves out amid much bad feeling. Ultimately disappointing.
The British Museum Is Falling Down (David Lodge): It’s been ages since I read a David Lodge book (my book blog tells me it was 14 years ago!). At the heart of this novel (first published in 1961) is the library at the British Museum where the main character (a post-graduate student working on his thesis with a young wife young children) works away – although frequently being pre-occupied or distracted by other matters. His home life seems dominated by the prospect of his wife being perpetually pregnant or of unstinting abstinence (while working through all the permitted methods of birth control allowed by the Catholic Church)… or about the need for more sex or better-quality sex! It’s typical Lodge – always entertaining and amusing but also, at times, bordering on farce (which isn’t exactly my cup of tea).
Mother Country (Jeremy Harding): I picked up this memoir from the £4 Bookshop (first published in 2006). It’s essentially a story about two mothers. Harding was born in 1952 (in London) and, when he was a child, his adoptive mother told him he’ been adopted. As he got older, he wondered about the identity of his biological parents and eventually embarked on a quest to find them… but also learn more about his adoptive parents (by this time his adoptive father had died and mother was in a home struggling with dementia) and how little he knew about them. It’s an account of his often difficult and frustrating journey into his past and the slipperiness of memory. It’s a compelling story set within the social fabric of Britain in the 1950s and 60s.
Down By The River (Edna O’Brien): O’Brien died earlier this year (aged 93). I’ve always found her a compelling, fascinating writer. This novel, published in 1996 is an unsparing story of 14 year-old girl who becomes pregnant by her father. Her mother had died a premature and painful death and the girl has nowhere to turn and is unable to tell anyone of her situation (she also tries to drown herself). A neighbour offers to help her and arranges for them to travel to England where she can get a legal abortion… but she is pressured to return before it can take place. Back home, she faces the wrath of opponents of abortion and sympathetic support from liberals. The weeks go by, amid agony and uncertainty before nature provides an answer in its own grim fashion. Apparently, the novel is loosely based on a real 1992 case of a 14-year-old Irish girl, said to have been a rape victim, whose struggles with the legal system caused a nationwide examination of conscience in Ireland. I found it a completely enthralling, albeit hard-hitting and disturbing, story… beautifully written.
Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit (Jeanette Winterson): This book (first published in 1985) tells the story of Jeanette - adopted and brought up by her mother as one of God's chosen people (her mother was a maniacal Pentecostal Christian… something of an understatement!). Keen and passionate, Jeanette seems destined for life as a missionary, but then she falls for one of her converts. At sixteen, Jeanette decides to leave the church, her home and her family, for the young woman she loves. It’s a semi-autobiographical novel and based on Winterson's life growing up in Accrington, Lancashire. It’s beautifully-written, innovative, hard-hitting, tender and, frequently, wonderfully funny. I really enjoyed it.

steve knightley at the beacon lantern…

I first saw Steve Knightley/Show of Hands more than 20 years ago. I certainly remember seeing him with my brother at the Bromyard Folk Festival in 2004 when he was appearing with Phil Beer in their ‘Show of Hands’ guise. Together, they are one of the leading forces in British folk (Peter Gabriel has described them as “one of the great English bands”). Knightley has aged at about the same rate as me (he’s 5 years younger!) – but he can still write songs, play lots of instruments and sing, superbly (unlike moi!).
Last night, he performed solo and was absolutely excellent. His songs frequently talk about the hardships and realities of West Country life – the sadness and the struggles; the declining industries; the broken lives; and the ordinary people – but also about love, families and the beauty of the natural world. He’s a wonderful story-teller and he’s a very funny man.
It was a really brilliant evening – played to a virtually full-house in the Lantern Hall… and with an audience of fans who knew most of his songs and didn’t hold back whenever they were encouraged to join in (which happened frequently!).
On a really difficult day (ie. trying to cope with the Trump vote!), it somehow restored my faith in humanity and decency.
Photo: Steve Knightley performing last night.

small things like these…

I went to the Watershed again this afternoon (although I seem to have gone to the cinema far less during 2024), this time to see an interpretation of Claire Keegan’s book ‘Small Things Like These’ – adapted by Eileen Walsh and directed by Tim Mielants. Keegan is one of my very favourite authors and I read this novella almost two years ago (I’ve read six of her books to date). It was certainly in my top five books of 2023. Quite brilliant.
Cillian Murphy plays the part of Bill Furlong (quite wonderfully) - born out of wedlock, born into shame, but now has a home and a family and a job hauling truckloads of coal around town in County Wexford. Life is tough, but bearable. The church is a dominant force within the town and, in due course, his daughters will be receiving their education courtesy of the church.
It’s a tale of hardship, self-sacrifice and decency.
Delivering coal to the church laundry (one of Ireland’s notorious Magdalene Laundries: the church’s homes for unwed mothers who were made to work in an atmosphere of wretchedness and shame and had their babies taken away and sold to foster parents), he walks straight in and sees the terrified girls for himself. He realises that the scene probably resembles his own poor unmarried mother’s experience (she was fortunate to have been taken in by a wealthy local woman). The church sister is aware that Bill is witness to scenes that could damage her/the church, but she has his daughters’ educational future in her hands…
Like the book, the film is a powerful, haunting and sobering depiction of the utterly shameful time for the Catholic Church and all those who suffered through its actions.
I urge you to see this excellent film (AND, particularly, read Keegan’s brilliantly impressive novella).
PS: Today was the Watershed’s first screening of the film and it had originally been scheduled to be shown in the small/tiny Cinema 2. Fortunately, the powers-that-be recognised that advanced ticket sales were such as to require the screening to be relocated in Cinema 1 (which was virtually a capacity audience this afternoon). Well done them!