april-may 2020 books…

The Wilt Alternative (Tom Sharpe): In an effort to take my mind off some of the depressing consequences and realities of the current pandemic, I decided to re-read one of the many Tom Sharpe books I possess (I bought this one in April 1981, 39 years ago!). It’s the continuing sage of Henry Wilt, hen-pecked husband, father of quads and Head of Liberal Studies at the local Tech. As with all of Sharpe’s books, it’s outrageously un-politically correct and completely farcical when it comes to a plot, BUT it’s absolutely hilarious… to say that Sharpe has the ‘gift-of-the-gab’ would something of an understatement. Anyway, it served its purpose… and I frequently found myself laughing out loud (again!).

The Body (Bill Bryson): Bryson is brilliant. I absolutely love his writing. In his book “A Short History of Nearly Everything”, he apparently set off to explore the universe and the science of everything in it. Here, according to the book jacket, “he turns his gaze inwards, to try to understand the extraordinary contraption that is us”. Although married to a nurse and having worked psychiatric hospital in the early 1970s (and despite his ten honorary doctorates!), I’m sure he’d be the first to admit that he is no medical expert… and yet, he has that amazing gift for explaining the most difficult subjects in the clearest possible way (and with humour too!)… As you finish reading the second paragraph of a chapter, for example, you’ll suddenly find him writing: “your body made a million red blood cells since you started reading this”! It’s a substantial work (of almost 400 pages), crammed full of fascinating facts and illuminating stories (frequently highlighting amazing researchers whose names have largely been forgotten). I found the best way of reading this tome was to read a chapter a day (23 chapters, each focussing on different parts of the body or on the immune system, on sleep… and the like). A glorious, compulsive book… and one I’ll continue to dip into over future years.

The Glad Season (Ray Robinson): This is a cricket book from 1956. I thought I’d given away all my cricket books but, clearly, this one slipped through the net. I obviously acquired it at some second-hand bookshop or jumble sale ages ago and never got around to reading it. So, I thought I would read it now as acknowledgement of what SHOULD have been the start of the new cricket season (but coronavirus intervened). It’s a book that focuses on young cricketers. The subject matter is interesting - especially in retrospect, when some of the players went on to become ‘famous’ (and others who didn’t) – BUT it’s really APPALLING in terms of writing style (Robinson was an Australian cricket writer 1905-82)! This is just one example: Talking about Australian batsman Neil Harvey, Robinson writes: “Hastily fixing his pads and gloves Neil hurried in, trailing his bat, little knowing that with him went a silent prayer from his anxious captain. With two balls of this cataclysmic over to survive, Neil said to Miller in his crisp, light voice: ‘What’s going on out here? Let’s get stuck into them, eh?’ He turned his back to the bowler while he scraped a block-mark with his toe…”. I won’t bother continuing… it was all like this! No doubt he had his admirers, but I’m certainly not one of them. Just awful. Simply awful.

The Virgin Suicides (Jeffrey Eigenides): I’ve been meaning to read this novel for some time. I knew the basic story – about five young sisters (13-17 years old) from a Catholic family living in Michigan in the 1970s who all, in the course of just over a year, commit suicide. I’m not giving anything away by telling you this because the book’s very first paragraph informs readers that’s what’s going to happen. Moira tells me that we’ve seen the 1999 film of the book, but I only have a very vague memory of this! It’s a haunting and compelling story which is both disturbing and surprisingly funny at times (in a dark humour sort of way). The girls were under the thumb of their tyrannical, disturbed mother, who never allowed them to have dates and dressed them in ridiculously baggy clothes. Their father, a mild high school maths teacher, was sympathetic but docile. It’s written in the first person plural from the perspective of an anonymous group of teenage boys (who were friends of the sisters, as far as that had been possible) – but recounted many years later when most of them had married and had families. They struggle for an explanation of the girls’ deaths… and continued to struggle over the years. Imaginative, detailed and wonderfully-written.

The Gift (Lewis Hyde): I felt I needed to read this book. Moira’s had it for quite a long time (but, interestingly didn’t finish it). Essentially, it focuses on how the creative spirit transforms the world. Margaret Atwood described it as “a masterpiece” and “classic study of gift-giving and its relationship to art”. It refers to the power of art to take us beyond ourselves… and also a call to use the gifts we have been given. But it also tries to address the issue of how a creative artist might be able to survive in a society dominated by market exchange. Hyde himself is a poet and translator and so perhaps it’s not surprising that he concentrates his thinking on the likes of fellow writers/poets like Walt Whitman and Ezra Pound rather than, say, painters or designers. It’s a highly intelligent book which deals with large philosophical issues and, to be brutally honest, I just don’t think I am clever enough to appreciate it – large swathes simply seemed to pass over my head! Sadly (or perhaps unsurprisingly), I finished the book with a huge sense of relief.

bill bryson: the body

I love Bill Bryson’s writing! I’ve just finished his excellent book ‘The Body: A Guide for Occupants’. It’s absolutely packed with fascinating observations and detail. In the penultimate chapter (‘Medicine Good and Bad’), for example, here are just a FEW extracts about health in the US (note: by quoting this stuff, I’m not ‘having a go’ at the US – I’m merely aware that, eventually it seems to me, the UK follows America’s ‘lead’ in virtually everything!):

• “With regard to life expectancy… it is not a good idea to be an American”.
• “For every 400 middle-aged Americans who die each year, just 220 die in Australia, 230 in Britain, 290 in Germany and 300 in France”.
• “America spends more on health care than any other nation – two and a half times more per person than the average for all the other developed countries”.
• “Yet despite the generous spending, and the undoubted high quality of American hospitals and health care generally, the US comes just 31^st in global rankings, behind Cyprus, Costa Rica and Chile, and just ahead of Cuba and Albania. How to explain such a paradox? Well, to begin with, and most inescapably, Americans lead more unhealthy lifestyles than most other people... As Allan S Detsky observed in the ‘New Yorker’, ‘Even wealthy Americans are not isolated from a lifestyle filled with oversized food portions, physical inactivity, and stress.’ The average Dutch or Swedish citizen consumes about 20% fewer calories than the average American, for instance.”

Although Bryson (who was born in Iowa, but a British resident for most of his adult life) is enthusiastic about the UK’s NHS, he points out: “For Britain, cancer survival rates are grim and ought to be a matter of national concern”.  He’s also critical about the UK spending “too little” on health care: “The ‘British Medical Journal’ reported in early 2019 that cuts to health and social care budgets between 2010 and 2017 led to about 120,000 early deaths in the UK, a pretty shocking finding”.

Fascinating (and sobering) stuff.

and this will all end…

“In dreams we remember what was, we think about what is, we imagine what might be, what can be, what will be” (Eva-Jane Gaffney speaks Sarah Coffey’s words in “The Pheonix”). These words are taken from a really beautiful Irish Covid-19-inspired video about love, loss, hope and strength (if you haven’t seen it, I suggest you do so by clicking here).

The video manages to captures many of the emotions we’re all feeling at the present time… the sense of gratitude; the kindness shown by others; the awful suffering; the amazing heroes; the precious lives lost; and the enormous strength shown…

We probably all have our ‘wish lists’ of the things we will treasure when all this ends. Those MANY things that perhaps some of us have taken for granted… those simple pleasures… those things that help to make us who we are.

We will never ever forget it and we will never ever let go again.

And this will all end…

But before we get carried away by it all, it’s VITALLY important that we also never allow the people in power to forget the things that they got SO wrong and at such cost:

• The Prime Minister is very good at putting a ‘positive gloss on things’, but conveniently fails to acknowledge that the death toll in the UK is amongst the highest in the world; that NHS staff and other healthcare workers have not had the protective clothing and equipment they needed and would have expected; that the government could have increased testing, tracking and tracing capacity weeks earlier than the current timetable; and that care homes have been woefully under-protected.
• The Prime Minister skipping five crucial meetings on the virus (as reported by The Sunday Times on 19 April, in its massively-critical assessment); when he did attend in early March, it was almost certainly too late (the virus was already upon us) - failings in February probably cost thousands of lives; calls to order protective gear were ignored and scientists’ warnings fell on deaf ears (check out this week's 'Panorama' programme if you think I'm being unfair).
• The Home Secretary making disparaging remarks about low-skilled workers (when it transpires that the majority of people employed by the sector are low-paid care workers - who are responsible for providing daily help to older and disabled adults in care homes and the community).

Writer Philip Pullman doesn’t hold back in his criticisms of the existing system (in an essay in ‘Perspectives’ for Penguin Books): “It’s all got to change. If we come out of this crisis with all the rickety, fly-blown, worm-eaten old structures still intact, the same vain and indolent public schoolboys in charge, the same hedge fund managers stuffing their overloaded pockets with greasy fingers, our descendants will not forgive us. Nor should they. We must burn out the old corruption and establish a better way of living together… And let’s reform the voting system. At the very least, let’s do that without delay. It’s no wonder that people feel disconnected from politics when most of us live in safe seats, and might as well not vote at all. We must be able to see that our opinions are accurately reflected in the composition of our government, not completely disregarded as they are now. So it might lead to coalitions: excellent. Discussion, compromise, working together are exactly how to run a decent country”.

And when this will all end, you’ll ask me dance.

And I will say, yes, let’s dance.

I desperately hope that we come out of it all determined to make the world a better place.

I desperately hope that we remember the people and the jobs that make our day-to-day lives worth living.

I desperately hope that we truly decide to care for our planet.

I desperately hope that we can move away from the old world of greed and power, of the haves and the have-nots. My fear is that some will have very short memories and revert back (if ever they budged) to lives governed by wealth and influence.

I desperately hope that such individuals and corporations are overwhelmed by the voices of those who know there’s a better way.

We’ve learnt so much from this awful coronavirus experience. Let’s use what we’ve learnt to make the world a better place.

And this WILL all end…

We will cry… oh we will cry!

Photo: Banksey’s ‘Girl With Pierced Eardrum’ gets a Covid-19 facemask.

april 2020 books…

In My Mind’s Eye (Jan Morris): Published in 2018, this is a ‘Thought Diary’; a set of daily meditations on her long life of writing and the rituals of her existence in north Wales. The result is a mixture of her memories and musings, her tastes and prejudices… and her observations on life (ranging from funny, blunt, touching and kind). I love Morris’s writing and this is a rather lovely, gentle book. As perhaps one might expect from a 91 year-old, she ‘bangs on’ about somewhat repetitive themes, including her dear old Honda Civic Type R car; her dislike of zoos; her republican tendencies; her agnosticism; her daily thousand paces walk up and down the lane by her house (always whistling); her despair of today’s world; the decline of the Royal Navy; robots; marmalade; the arts; her partner Elizabeth; the great American songbook; her library (of several thousand books)… and, of course, the key to EVERYTHING in her eyes: kindness. I think my favourite sentence in the book was: “Alas, I never met Leonard Cohen… but I did once meet his mother”! She’s an institution… and I love her.
Scoop (Evelyn Waugh): First published in 1938, I first read this book ten years ago and decided to re-read it as ‘light relief’ from all the current depressing coronavirus matters. It’s an irreverent satire of Fleet Street and tells the story of a young man, William Boot, who lives in genteel poverty in the West Country and who contributes nature notes to Lord Copper's Daily Beast, a national daily newspaper. He is bullied into becoming a foreign correspondent, when the editors mistake him for John Courtney Boot, a fashionable novelist, and is sent to Ishmaelia, a fictional state in East Africa, to report on the crisis there. The novel has been described as one of Waugh’s “most exuberant comedies” but, frankly, this time around – although there are several very funny passages – my overriding reaction to the book was a sense of disgust at Waugh’s several awful ‘stereotypical’, distasteful descriptions of many of the African characters (‘darky’, ‘coon’, ‘nigger’, ‘blacks’ etc). Yes, I appreciate that it’s “of its time” and perhaps rather reflected Waugh’s reactionary character and his negative image as “intolerant, snobbish and sadistic, with pronounced fascist leanings”, but I don’t think I’ll be re-reading the book again.
Tissues For Men (Alan Coren): I re-re-read this almost 40 years since I first read it… in an attempt to gain some emotional relief from all the current coronavirus reports. Even the book’s cover acknowledges a similar sentiment: “At last, the complete cure for gloom and misery!”. Coren, former editor of Punch magazine was an incredibly funny and hugely gifted writer… with an imaginative talent for seeing humour in even apparently mundane subjects. Laugh out loud humour at its brilliant best.
Paul Takes The Form Of A Mortal Girl (Andrea Lawlor): This is my StorySmith bookgroup's latest book and this time we chose ‘LGBT’ as a basic theme. Elisa Gabbert in her review for ‘London Review for Books’ summarised the novel thus: “For a cishet reader like me, (the book) offers an education in gay experience in the 1990s – full of lore, zines and raves – but it’s not preachy or didactic; there are no sneaky lessons, or if there are, they’re so sneaky I barely noticed them” (note: I had to look up what cishet meant: “a person is cishet if he or she is cisgender, meaning identifying with his or her assigned-at-birth gender, as well as heterosexual, or attracted exclusively to people of the opposite sex). Well, it certainly provided ME with an education into gay life! The book’s protagonist, 23 year-old Paul/Polly Polydoris, is able to change sex whenever he/she wants, with no magic wands required… and, believe me, the book is FULL of graphic descriptions of Paul’s/Polly’s NUMEROUS sexual experiences (and these frequently seem to occur on a whim – as a result of a chance glimpse, a casual gesture or a calculated pursuit). He/she is constantly looking for new sexual experiences and opportunities… and sees such encounters as novelties as he/she moves from Iowa to San Francisco (and all this against the backdrop of Aids). I loved Lawlor’s detailed and lengthy descriptions of lots of the key music from the time and of the various elaborate clothes combinations. It’s a love story (admittedly quite unlike any love story I’ve previously read!); it’s very well-written and it’s frequently outrageous and often very funny. I have to admit that I didn’t find the book ‘an easy read’ (not because I was shocked by all the sex, but perhaps a little by the seemingly never-ending number of sexual encounters?) and it took me longer to read than I might have anticipated. Nevertheless, I think the book has received widespread critical acclaim and so I’ll be absolutely fascinated to discover what my lovely bookgroup makes of it.
Mrs Fox (Sarah Hall): This is one of a series of short stories celebrating Faber+Faber’s 90^th birthday (it won the BBC National Short Story Award 2013). It’s a somewhat haunting tale that focuses on the relationship between a husband and wife… about the outward appearance of perfection their relationship portrays to the outside world and yet something is perhaps not quite right… the couple’s situation changes in an instant… how do they react? The book cover puts it like this: “In language harvested from nature, Sarah Hall tells a story of metamorphosis, of wildness and fecundity, and of a man reaching for reason, who cannot let go of the creature he loves”. Beautifully-written and a bit magical.

march-april 2020 books…

Trieste And The Meaning Of Nowhere (Jan Morris): I just love Morris’s unconventional ‘travel books’ (this one published in 2001); they’re a unique combination of fascinating facts, history and people but, far more important for me, also Morris’s meditations, memories and insights about the place… and I just loved this book. My friend Mike gave it to me to mark our first meeting earlier this month. I visited the city in the summer of 1968 with my student friends John and Ron (£15 return coach trip from Dover – or was it Ramsgate? – to Trieste!)… we camped just up the coast at Muggia and I have vague memories of catching trains from Trieste to Venice… and to Rijeka (in what was then Yugoslavia)… and sleeping overnight in Trieste railway station awaiting our return coach back home! Sadly, we failed to explore the city at all (a big regret). Clearly, Morris (who first encountered the place during WW2) loves the city and, especially, what she describes as its European cosmopolitanism (“multi-ethnic, multi-lingual, multi-faith…”) - rather poignant comments given our recent abandonment of the EU. The book which, at the time, was supposed to be her ‘final’ book (thankfully she’s written more since!) is very much a reflection of her experiences at what she regarded as the ‘end of her life’. I loved this passage at the end of the book (no apologies for quoting it in full): “Much of this little book, then, has been self-description. I write of exiles in Trieste, but I have generally felt myself an exile too. For years I felt myself an exile from normality, and now I feel myself one of those exiles from time. The past is a foreign country, but so is old age, and as you enter it you feel you are treading unknown territory, leaving your own land behind. You’ve never been here before. The clothes people wear, the idioms they use, their pronunciation, their assumptions, tastes, humours, loyalties all become the more alien the older you get. The countryside changes. The policemen are children. Even hypochondria, the Trieste disease, is not what it was, for that interesting pain in the ear lobe may not now be imaginary at all, but some obscure senile reality. This kind of exile can mean a new freedom, too, because most things don’t matter as they used to. The way I look doesn’t matter. The opinions I cherish are my business. The books I have written are no more than smudged graffiti on a wall, and I shall write no more of them. Money? Enough to live on. Critics? To hell with ‘em. Kindness is what matters, all along, at any age – kindness, the ruling principle of nowhere!”. Special book. Special person.

Such Small Hands (Andres Barba): Our bookgroup ALMOST chose this book as part of its ‘sadness-to-be-leaving-the-EU’ selection acknowledging authors from across the EU… and, although I’m not usually one for reading scary novels, I was very brave and chose to buy a copy for myself! It’s no more than a novella but, somewhat hilariously you may think, I decided NOT to attempt reading it immediately before bedtime (my nighttimes are disrupted as they are!). Marina, a 7-year-old girl, has been wounded in an accident that killed her parents; she is taken to live in an orphanage… and she also takes with her a wide-eyed doll, also called Marina, which is her constant companion. Both the child and the doll become the focus of the other girls’ attention… part adoring, part cruel… and, soon, uneasy playfulness develops into a shocking nighttime game. Eeerie, sinister and a bit terrifying (but impressive).

Reading Lolita in Tehran (Azar Nafisi): This is our bookgroup’s latest book. In the late 1990s, Azar Nafisi (a former professor of literature at Tehran University) invited a group of seven young women to meet at her apartment in Tehran every Thursday morning to discuss Western literature. I found it a pretty remarkable book… and, somehow, reading about her experiences of detachment and isolation in her Tehran University teaching post (and her mini-teaching community) formed fascinating, and humbling, contrasts with the experiences we’re currently encountering through the coronavirus pandemic (and, somewhat ironically, I finished the book on the day the government announced its various isolation restrictions). Bizarrely, and hilariously, reading her description (in the very first chapter, P4) of the two contrasting photographs of her women’s reading group (one dressed in their black robes and the other in their ‘normal’ clothing) gave me a mental image of our own bookgroup posing for two contrasting group photographs – one in normal clothing and the other where we’re all dressed as ‘book characters’ (oh dearie, dearie me!) - the fact that I started reading the book a couple of days after ‘World Book Day’ might have influenced my thought processes at the time!? I also thought it was somewhat ironic to read of people gathering together in secret at a time when we ourselves have to remain apart! I found reading about the attitudes to and the treatment of women (I knew much of it already, but…) in Iranian society was hugely depressing – and yet I was also profoundly moved and heartened by the courage and determination of Nafisi and her students. I hadn’t read lots of the books studied by the group (eg. Lolita, Daisy Miller, A Doll’s House, Washington Square), but that didn’t matter. I loved how literature, during very difficult and challenging times, brought the women together and how it provided surprising insights into their own very different lives. Frequently, Nafiisi’s words made me feel as if I was reading Margaret Atwood’s ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ or ’The Testament’. There was SO much in this book that I loved (eg. ‘The Magician’ character)… and I was also hugely moved by a number of passages (eg. student Nassrin’s little parcel containing transcribed words from all of their classes over the past 3 years; and Manna’s inspiring words at the very end of the book).

Three Men In A Boat (Jerome K Jerome): First published in 1889 (our/Moira’s copy 1969) is the well-known story of three men (and a dog) on a boat, making the journey from Kingston to Oxford along the Thames (and back again). This must be at least the third time I’ve read it but, in these ‘difficult times’, something humorous seemed to be required. I think it had originally been intended for it to be a travel book, but it seems that the humorous elements rather ‘took over’. It’s obviously incredibly dated and ‘of its time’, but it really is very funny and beautifully written. All accounts of their journey invariably get side-tracked by recollections of other, often completely unrelated, events (a bit like Ronnie Corbett’s old long drawn-out stories on television?). Some lovely references bemoaning the “pace of nineteenth century life”… and a rather pertinent comment about “people’s changing tastes” and things that had become “unfashionable”: “Will it be the same in the future? Will the prized treasures of today always be the cheap trifles of the day before? Will rows of our willow-pattern dinner-plates be ranged above the chimney-pieces of the great in the years 2000 and odd?...”. A very enjoyable read. 

The Three Dimensions Of Freedom (Billy Bragg): This book is something of an extended essay (it’s one of the publisher’s, Faber+Faber, new series of political pamphlets). Most people know that, as well as being a revered musician, Bragg has also been a life-long activist (I’ve previously read a couple of his books). His views are left-wing, but not extreme… and I found this a fascinating, eloquent assessment-cum-diagnosis of the crisis of accountability in western democracies. He identifies ‘The Three Dimensions of Freedom’ as: Liberty, Equality and Accountability… and I found myself underlining (in pencil!) whole sections, page after page. This provides a flavour: “At a time when opinion trumps facts and truth is treated as nothing more than another perspective, free speech has become a battleground. While authoritarians and algorithms threaten democracy, we argue over who has the right to speak…”. Lots and lots of food for thought… and I found myself agreeing with him, time after time.

coronavirus and us…

So, this is the scenario:

Saturday 14 March: We hear, via Robert Peston’s ITV blog (for example), that the “People over 70 will be instructed by the government to stay in strict isolation at home or in care homes for four months, under a ‘wartime-style’ mobilisation effort by the government likely to be enforced within the next 20 days”. Peston’s post goes on to say: “According to a senior government source, the perception that ministers are reluctant to make difficult and costly decisions to battle the virus is wrong. It is simply that the chief medical officer Chris Whitty and the chief scientific adviser Sir Patrick Vallance are waiting for the optimal time to force restrictions on our way of life that will be very painful. They are deeply worried that some older people will simply die at home from neglect, after they are quarantined, so want to start the quarantine as late as possible - sometime within the next five to 20 days”.

Sunday 15 March: Health Minister Matt Hancock confirms (on SkyNews) that action to isolate the UK's over-70s for an extended period to shield them from coronavirus is planned in the coming weeks and that the government would “be setting it out with more detail when it is the right time to do so”.

I wonder when that’s likely to be?

Well, Moira and I are certainly NOT going to be ones who will “simply die at home from neglect”… but, over the course of the next few days, we’ll be reflecting on the various implications that strict quarantine rules would have on our lives… and those of our families, our friends, etc.

Yes, we can simplify our own lives fairly easily (in relative terms, compared with those who have already been directly, and even more seriously, affected by the pandemic)… but with somewhat depressing outcomes and implications (no classes, no groups, no sport, no cafés/restaurants, no cinema, no theatre, no concerts, no church, no meetings with family/friends etc etc). At this stage, we haven’t any holiday arrangements scheduled over the coming months… and I suspect there won’t now be any.

I assume we’ll be ‘allowed’ to get out into the ‘fresh air’ to walk and maintain our levels of ‘fitness and well-being’ (assuming we don’t get within 3-4 metres of another human!)? I also assume I’ll be allowed to sit in some isolated outdoor location and sketch (on my own!)?

We live quite simple lives. We’ll cope...   

Coronavirus will obviously have a huge impact on a whole range of other day-to-day issues for so many people. I suspect that (perhaps by the Easter holidays?) schools, colleges and universities will shut… (with all sorts of implications for young school children – where grandparents frequently pick up the childcare ‘slack’). Without support, some firms will collapse and others will be forced to make redundancies? What about the lack of statutory sick pay for the self-employed? Mortgage/rent payment implications? Paying monthly bills? Holiday bookings?

The list goes on (and on)…

So, at this stage, it seems to be all about what the government is ABOUT to decide (or not!)… and everyone thinking of their own contingency plans… and, of course, some people selfishly ‘going overboard’ and stockpiling. The government will no doubt receive lots of criticism (and maybe even some plaudits?) regarding its handling of the pandemic… but it’s difficult to be certain about anything in such circumstances. My heart goes out to all those working in the NHS – at the ‘sharp’ end of things and having to cope with ‘unknown issues’ set against a backdrop of several years of under-funding.

On a personal level, I have very mixed emotions about the government wanting us oldies to self-isolate (I really feel for my lovely family). As far as possible, I want to see the help and support concentrated on younger people… and yet I absolutely appreciate that it’s better to try and prevent the ‘old’ becoming infected (ie. due to their much greater vulnerability) in the first place – and thereby, hopefully, reducing funds spent on them once they’ve been admitted to hospital. Ridiculously perhaps, if I did contract the disease, I’d much prefer to be ‘killed off quickly’ (I know!) than to have large amounts of money spent on me, at my stage in life.

In the meantime, as someone who avoids using the telephone as much as possible, I think I’m going to have to learn to Skype PROPERLY (my past attempts have been pretty awful – with me watching an image on my laptop screen and listening to what’s being said on my mobile!!)(really), so I can keep in touch with family and friends effectively from my ‘isolation den’. Perhaps, for example, I can continue (ie. a couple of times/week) to prepare meals* for Iris+Rosa - pass them on to Ruth/Stu for cooking at their home – and then Skyping the girls so we can continue our hilarious chats over the 'dining table' (while I sip my glass of red)!?

As they used to say on ‘Hill Street Blues’: “Let’s Be Careful Out There”!

(now wash your hands…).

PS: * but, of course, I probably wouldn't be allowed to cook for others!

portrait of a lady on fire…

I went along to the Watershed this evening (yes, night time! it cost even old codgers like me £8.50 - but tomorrow is its final day at the Watershed, so…) to see Céline Sciamma’s film “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”. The synopsis goes like this: In 18th century France a young painter, Marianne (Noémie Merlant), is commissioned to do the wedding portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) without her knowing. Therefore, Marianne (posing as a walking companion) must observe her model by day to paint her portrait at night. Gradually, the two women become closer as they share Héloïse’s last moments of freedom before the impending wedding…

It’s a very beautiful film – beautifully-paced; beautifully-acted (I thought Haenel and Merlant were perfectly cast); and with beautiful cinematography. Essentially, the film’s about female desire, hidden love and art… and also, in the words of the Watershed’s blurb, “the gaze”! The observer observed as it were.

There were a couple of arty aspects that I found difficult to fully take on board, namely: a) being able to remember someone’s features sufficiently (in the pre-camera age, of course) in order to be able to paint a likeness is utterly beyond me… and b) Marianne being able to sketch a likeness of a sleeping Héloïse when she’s actually sitting right next to her head and even the best contortionist would be hard-pressed to come up with the resulting ‘front on’ drawing, but…

I found the final scenes set in the art gallery (a reminder that, despite it being an important time for women artists, art is very much male-dominated) and in the opera house (Héloïse had earlier admitted never to have heard an orchestra, so Marianne had given her a ‘taste’ by playing some Vivaldi on the harpsichord) utterly enthralling.

I would very highly recommend it.

february-march 2020 books…

The Gifts Of Reading (Robert Macfarlane): This is a short book/essay by one of my favourite writers about the joys and gifts of books. He describes his relationship with a work colleague who was passionate about reading… someone whose life had been transformed by books and who subsequently passed on his passion to others (including Macfarlane). Macfarlane goes on to talk about books that changed and influenced his own life (eg. McCarthy’s ‘Blood Meridian’, Nabokov’s ‘Lolita’, Leigh Fermor’s ‘A Time of Gifts’, Baker’s ‘The Peregrine’ and Nan Shepherd’s ‘The Living Mountain’) and how he, in turn, now passes on his love through gifts of books whenever he can. A beautiful, simple, tender reflection.

Seashaken Houses (Tom Nancollas): Between 1698 and 1905, 27 lighthouses were constructed on desolate and perilous footholds of rock to mark the most dangerous hazards to shipping in the seas around Great Britain and Ireland. Twenty survive today. Nancollas’s book is a brilliantly-researched celebration of rock lighthouses around Great Britain and Ireland... about the almost super human ingenuity of the people who built these structures in the most isolated and wildest of locations with relatively primitive equipment and tools. Nancollas combines stories of lighthouse architecture/engineering with the human experiences involved in their construction. He visits seven rock lighthouses, telling different parts of the overall story – the early efforts and failures, the changing designs of the lights themselves and the life of the keepers. Absolutely fascinating.

The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and the Horse (Charlie Mackesy): This is a simple, beautiful, powerful book… featuring the characters in the title. It’s entirely hand-written and stunningly hand-drawn. It felt a bit like reading ‘Winnie the Pooh’ - with the boy, mole, fox and horse taking on Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore and Tigger characters. Simple straightforward, heartfelt conversations; wonderful pearls of wisdom… and all linked with a common theme of friendship, love and kindness. I read the following comment from Mackesy: “All four characters represent different parts of the same person… the inquisitive boy, the mole who’s enthusiastic but a bit greedy, the fox who’s been hurt so is withdrawn from life, slow to trust but wants to be part of things, and the horse who’s the wisest bit, the deepest part of you, the soul.” This might sound ridiculously sugar-coated and soppy, but it works. I absolutely loved it and will continue to dip into the book (especially when I’m feeling low).

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (Rachel Joyce): I first read this book in 2013, but it’s now been selected as our Blokes’ Books bookgroup book (lots of ‘book’ words there!). I don’t often re-read books but, somewhat strangely, I’ve now re-read two books in the last month. As with the last one, it made realise how much of the detail I’d forgotten. This is what I wrote 7 years ago: “I absolutely loved this book. It’s about a recently-retired, married man (Harold) who sets off, with his wife hoovering upstairs, to post a letter to a former work colleague at the other end of the country who is dying of cancer… he decides, on the spur of the moment, to continue walking (without hiking boots, map, compass, waterproof or mobile phone) to visit his friend in Berwick in order to “save her life”. The journey is both physical and metaphorical. It’s about loss and regret; it’s about misunderstandings and relationships; it’s about romance and loneliness… but it’s about simple pleasures, caring, kindness, encouragement and joy. You REALLY need to read this book!” . If you haven’t already read it, I still think you ought to! 

Ness (Robert Macfarlane+Stanley Donwood): I love Macfarlane’s writing; invariably they’re evocations of nature in some form or another. This short book, however, is unlike anything I’ve previously read of Macfarlane’s. Although it does deal with the beauty and fragility of our world, it takes the form of something of a prose-poem. The text (accompanied by Stanley Donwood’s beautiful, haunting line drawings) relates to a 10-mile-long section of the Suffolk coast (next to the shoreline at Orford)… which Macfarlane calls “Ness”. For much of the last century, it was a top-secret site for military research (machine gun testing during WW1; important work on nuclear bomb mechanisms during the cold war etc). When the site (now a Site of Special Scientific Interest) was abandoned by the military, the National Trust took it on – but ended up deciding it could little to stop the ravages of erosion. In Macfarlane’s tale (which in some ways had similarities to Max Porter’s “Lanny”), one of the buildings has become ‘The Green Chapel’ and is ‘inhabited’ by people (or are they really people?) who perform rituals focused on dereliction, destruction, threat and power. Meanwhile, over time, other non-human forces approach the ravaged coastline and begin to make their presence felt – with a view to restoring the stewardship of the planet to Earth’s own non-human agency. Macfarlane has apparently described it as “a landscape produced by a collision of the human death drive and natural life”… I found the book mesmerisingly beautiful – almost hauntingly so – and one that I’ll continue to ponder about (and re-read) over the coming months.

dark waters...

I went along to the Watershed this morning (I know!) to watch Todd Haynes’ “Dark Waters”.

It’s a shocking and true story of a corporate lawyer Robert Bilott (impressively played by Mark Ruffalo) and his decades-long battle against the large chemical company, DuPont, who knowingly dumped toxic materials on local land in West Virginia - poisoning animals… and people.

It’s a frightening story that powerfully underlines the stark reality… corporations rule the world! Corporations have unprecedented power, resources and, crucially, loads of ‘dosh’.

Whatever YOU think, whatever GOVERNMENTS think… Corporations can effectively “do what they like”. If someone argues or disagrees with them (even, it seems, governments), they argue back… and they WIN. They wear opponents down… you don’t stand a chance (whether you’re a business or an individual).

We constantly come up against instances where corporations/companies are fined comparatively paltry sums for breaking the law… and they do so because they know that the huge financial benefits (or, in the case of the ‘Leave’ campaign during the Referendum, for example, political results?) far exceed the penalties - make taking the risks MASSIVELY worthwhile.

Clearly, this story is exceptional in that, thanks to the single-handed determination of a pedantic lawyer, the appalling conduct of a corporation IS exposed… and you have to be aware that all this took place against a backdrop of a corporation who ‘generously’ rewarded communities living adjacent their business undertakings… by helping them to build community centres, libraries and such like (but, in fact, the amounts in question represented a tiny drop in a huge ocean compared with corporation’s high financial rewards). As you might imagine, members of such communities were loathe to find fault with such ‘benefactors’… until Bilott was able to prove that DuPont were (and had been) directly, and knowingly, responsible for hundreds of (early) deaths (and birth deformities) that had taken place within their State over the course of several decades.

DuPont come out of this mess appallingly… after being ‘found out’, they reneged on a vital legal commitment following proof of their guilt (resulting fines far outweighed by not having to pay out damages) – effectively forcing the ‘injured parties’ to fight on a case-to-case basis… with DuPont assuming that individuals would be scared off by the expense and commitment required. But, thankfully, Bilott DOES pursue EACH of the cases… the first results in a fine of more than a million dollars; the second even more; the third well exceeds that… and so on.

The story is utterly frightening… and underlines just how powerless most of us feel in the face of controlling corporations. But, very occasionally, their actions are exposed by amazingly brave individuals who just aren’t prepared to give up without a fight (even if such action might have serious implications for ‘everything’ – their future, their family, and even their own life) in order to expose the truth.  

The headline of a subsequent article in the New York Times (and on which the film was based) summed things up perfectly: “The lawyer who became DuPont’s worst nightmare”.

A brilliant film and one that I think you should see.

trying to heal political wounds…

If you’re on facebook, you might recall me posting a ‘plea for help’ back in mid-December, following the General Election result (which also effectively ruled out any chance of continued EU membership)? In my virtual world, perhaps well in excess of 95% of my 650 FB friends probably didn’t vote Conservative (and I fully appreciated that there’s another virtual world out there for whom exactly the opposite is true).

Against this background, I wanted to meet up with some Tory-voters… although I vehemently disagreed with the vast majority of Tory policies, I thought the time had come to try to heal some of the wounds (a tall order - but you know what I mean!).
I wanted to meet a few Tory-voters to chat and compare our current thoughts, concerns, hopes and aspirations. Clearly, I didn’t want to try to ‘convert’ this Tory voter (and, equally, didn’t want to talk to anyone who thought they could persuade me to support Mr Johnson!)… but I did (and do) think there’s an awful lot of healing that needs to happen. These proposed meet-ups wouldn’t be confrontational in any way – they would just be an opportunity to discuss political stuff in a calm, rational (and, who knows, even humorous) way - with me buying the first round!
For the record (in case you didn’t know), I’m a 71 year-old member of the Green Party. I live in Bristol. I’m a retired architect (and ran a successful, medium-sized Buckinghamshire practice for getting on for 30 years). I’ve been very happily married for 47 years, have 3 beautiful daughters and 6 wonderful, funny, bright grandchildren… and I voted ‘Remain’ in the Referendum. Although I hold strong political views, I’d describe myself as a ‘liberal with socialist leanings’(!). I’ve never voted Conservative in my life and don’t anticipate ever doing so… but, by the same token, I’m definitely no ‘Labour-lefty’.

Well, largely as a result of my facebook plea, I’ve now managed to meet up with three Tory-voters (over the odd glass!) – all male as it happens (not by choice!).

Somewhat predictably, it proved to be an illuminating, fascinating… and, at times, frustrating experience.

In the event (and as anticipated), all three ‘conversations’ were conducted amicably… there was humour; a general acceptance that the Labour Party’s poor performance in Opposition had had a direct bearing on the General Election result (at a time when, arguably, the government’s own performance since 2010 had provided ‘easy targets’ for any opposition party); that the EU Referendum had been unsatisfactory on various levels; but also a general acceptance of the need to ‘move on’ (perhaps much easier to say if the Party you voted for won!).

I could write at length about our individual conversations and disagreements/agreements, but this would probably make very boring reading (not that this is sparkling ‘journalism’!). Indeed, I HAD originally anticipated summarising the discussions on a whole variety of issues… including Democracy, Party Leadership, Brexit, Westminster/Politics in General, Climate Crisis/Environment and Politics over the next 5/10 years.

Instead, I’ll simply say this:

I found some comments from two of my ‘friends’ both annoying and somewhat jingoistic – and, no doubt, they would have their criticisms of my views. At times, I sensed a certain arrogance in their various and collective stances – along the lines of “well, your views are very much as we might have predicted… but, sadly for you, you’re wrong/disillusioned/badly informed… we know better”.

However, my third meet-up was an altogether different matter… right from the start, we both accepted the need for a time of healing/need to move on. There were certainly matters that we had completely different ‘takes’ on, but we were able to discuss these openly and freely accept the other’s viewpoint. We discussed our respective backgrounds; we covered a wide range of subjects… and, crucially, we laughed a lot!

Genuinely, I think this could be the start of a very rewarding, encouraging friendship – which far exceeds my original expectations. We’ve agreed to meet up again in due course to continue our wide-ranging discussions.  How lovely is that!?

   

For me, I’ve been trying to use this time of post-election reflection as a time of reconciliation and healing; a time to ‘move on’. In some ways, the time has been fruitful and worthwhile (perhaps, to underline this process, Lent has come at a good time for me?), but it’s also proved more difficult than I’d imagined. I think, perhaps naively, that I’d hoped to have had conversations whereby we might have been able to agree that there was a ‘better way’; or a compromise way which addressed various issues and enabled ‘both sides’ to move on together on some matters; or simply an opportunity to move away from confrontational politics (perhaps, to some extent, this was achieved).

I feel passionate about UK politics (don’t get me started on the US version!) and, as I’ve got older, I think the range of my ‘beliefs’ have become sharper and more focussed. Perhaps, also, I’ve become less tolerant of others who don’t share my views (I hope that’s not the case)?

I think we all need to listen more. I think we need to create opportunities to exchange our views… and, somehow, I think we need to move away from the world of Party Politics whereby our MPs follow the Party-line on every issue and ignore the views of their constituents and the potential for working alongside colleagues – whatever their political colours - who share similar concerns and aspirations.

I live in hope.  

Image: These are words from AA Gill (in an article ‘The Times’, dated 12 June 2016, just before the EU Referendum)(and just six months before he died)… I wrote them down in my sketchbook because I felt they summed many of my own feelings towards those who voted to leave the EU and to ‘get our country back’… by the same token, sadly, I think they also sum up the attitudes and sentiments of many (not all) Tory-voters per se (certainly not my third Tory ‘friend’!).

o’hooley+tidow at st george’s (again)…

Ruth and I went along to St George’s last night to see/hear Belinda O’Hooley and Heidi Tidow perform their eclectic mix of thought-provoking songs and intricate harmonies. This was the third time I’d seen them over the past seven years and, once again, I came away feeling very impressed.

They’ve established themselves as gifted singer-songwriters and they frequently write about difficult, painful subjects such as racism, animal cruelty, poverty, vulnerability and child abuse with remarkable, understated clarity. Over the past year or so, they’ve attracted additional admirers after their song “Gentleman Jack” (written in 2012 about 19th Century diarist, writer, traveller, mountaineer, rural gentlewoman, and industrialist Anne Lister) was featured in the BBC drama series of the same name. O’Hooley is a highly-talented musician (piano and accordion), whilst Tidow ‘limits herself’ to foot percussion and kazoo!

They both come across as rather lovely people - compassionate, sincere, down-to-earth and very amusing.

Another lovely evening… in an excellent concert venue.

Photo: O’Hooley+Tidow at last night’s concert (as you can see, we were in the gallery!)

january-february 2020 books…

Barchester Towers (Anthony Trolloppe): Over the years, there have been LOTS of ‘classic’ novels that I’ve avoided reading… and I only decided to read this one after Moira’s bookgroup had recently enjoyed (re-)reading it. I’m very pleased I did. As you probably already know, Trollope’s book is set in the fictional cathedral town of Barchester and recounts the tales, intrigues and ambitions (and loves) amongst that pillar of Victorian society – the Church. I particularly enjoyed the names of some of the characters (Tom Towers, the Quiverfuls, Sir Omicron Pie etc) and Trollope’s observations from the perspective of the writer (eg. “We must now take leave of Mr Slope, and of the bishop also, and of Mrs Proudie. These leave-takings in novels are as disagreeable as they are in real life; not so sad…”). The writing is elegant, clever and very amusing - the plot frequently reads something akin to a ‘Whitehall farce’ (but in a good way). I think my only real criticism is that this farce has too many acts(!) - it’s a long book, written in two combined volumes, totalling over 550 pages. But a very enjoyable read nonetheless.

Factfulness (Hans Rosling): You’ve probably previously come across some of Rosling’s TED talks (that’s how I first ‘discovered’ him). This book essentially tells readers that the world isn’t quite as horrific and they thought… it attempts to train us all how to put ‘news’ into perspective and, for someone (like me!) who frequently views the world as a ‘hopeless case’, that’s got to be good news! The book is full (and I mean ‘full’) of fascinating, frequently surprising facts and statistics. Rosling is quite brilliant (he died in 2017) and, without doubt, I’ll continue to dip into this book on a regular basis… and continue to be surprised by many of its findings. I admit there were times when I found its style somewhat ‘smug’ (eg. he’d frequently provide readers with a number of statements and ask them to identify which one was actually true or most accurate. After the first few pages, you became aware that the ‘true’ one will be the one you’d probably regarded as the most unlikely… and he would be telling readers that even a bunch of chimpanzees would be more likely to choose the correct answer than you… or a group of nuclear scientists or whatever). But, hey, a fascinating and ‘hopeful’ book. 

May Week was In June (Clive James): I first read this 29 years ago (blimey)… I notice that, on the cover of my 1991 edition, Nigella Lawson – writing for ‘Book Choice’ is quoted as follows: “This is a good  book” (that’s the entire quote!). On the basis of such eloquence and insight, I think I’m going to be a book reviewer when I grow up. As you probably know, I just love James’s writing and I’ve so enjoyed re-reading this book. His final years ‘studying’ at Cambridge in the 1960s coinciding with my time starting at the School of Architecture in Oxford – so, although I was never part of the ‘Oxbridge scene’ (obviously!), I was very familiar with May Week traditions/May Balls and the like ‘by association’ (ie. by being a student in Oxford) and what else was happening in the world at that time (student riots in Paris, Vietnam war, Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia, Bobby Kennedy+Martin Luther King Jnr assassinations, swinging 60s, music, fashion etc). He’s highly intelligent and ridiculously well-read, he’s conceited… and he’s very, very funny. This recounts the time (living something of a hand-to-mouth existence) when he threw himself in to Footlights, film reviewing, writing poetry, developing a passion for the Arts, discovering the stunning beauty of Florence, falling in love (frequently), getting married… and reading countless works of literature (anything so long as it wasn’t on the curriculum). I’m almost certainly going to have to re-read lots of his other books (I’ve got LOTS of them). I loved re-reading this one.

Heimat (Nora Krug): This is a rather poignant and beautiful book. It’s a German family album put together by a German-American woman, now living in New York, about her family’s life in Germany as the Nazis rose to power as she seeks to unearth their role in the Holocaust. Krug grew up as a second-generation German after WW2, in the shadow of her country’s past… and she decided she couldn’t know who she was without confronting where she’d come from. The entire book is handwritten and hand-drawn (almost in the form of a scrapbook), with additional photographs and extracts from old letters. Much of the book relates to her grandfather’s exploits before and during the war. She revisits her family’s ‘hometown’ in Germany; she talks to relatives of people who might have known her family… it proves to be a difficult, but important, journey. Highly original and powerful. 

Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead (Olga Tokarczuk): I previously read this exactly a year ago but, as it’s our bookgroup’s latest book (we chose from a range of gifted authors from the EU in a sort of anti-Brexit solidarity!), I’ve just re-read it. This is what I wrote a year ago: “Man Booker International Prize-winner Olga Tokarezuk is a remarkable writer. This beautifully-written (and beautifully-translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones) noir novel is set in a remote Polish village and is an account given by an eccentric, reclusive woman in her sixties (who believes in the stars, prefers animals to people… and is fond of the poetry of William Blake) following the disappearance of her two dogs. I found its calm-but-quirky, narrative voice strangely compelling. It’s essentially a thought-provoking, humorous crime story… and yet, it’s much more than that: it’s also about animal rights, about injustice against marginalised people and about what many would see as the hypocrisy of traditional religion. I really really enjoyed it”. In re-reading the book, I realised just how much of the detail I’d forgotten, but again found the character of the ‘madwoman’ both quirky and charming. In her Guardian review, writer Sarah Perry says this: “The novel is almost impossible to categorise. It is, in effect, a murder mystery: in the bleak Polish midwinter, men in an isolated village are being murdered, and it is left to Janina Duszejko, a kind of eastern European Miss Marple, to identify the murderer”... 

From the very first page, we learn that she (Janina Duszejko) is ‘already at an age and additionally in a state where I must always wash my feet thoroughly before bed, in the event of having to be removed by an ambulance in the Night’! I loved her narrative voice as she describes her routines, her neighbours and her struggles to come to terms with what she sees as a chaotic world. I suspect that not everyone in our bookgroup will admire it as much as I do, so our discussion will be fascinating. I’d definitely recommend it.

parasite…

I went along to the Watershed at lunchtime to see Bong Joon Ho’s much-acclaimed film “Parasite” (which, as I’m sure you’ve heard, was voted the Oscar’s ‘Best Picture 2020’ – plus Best Director, Best Screenplay and Best Foreign Language film).

Unsurprisingly, the cinema was COMPLETELY full, all seats sold in advance.

Set in South Korea, I’ve seen the film described as “a satirical suspense thriller” (I’m not sure if this quite does the film justice… but it’s difficult to come up with something that properly conveys its essence). Essentially, the key players (the ‘parasites’) are a somewhat dubious, street-wise, unemployed family (father, mother plus teenage son and daughter) who live in an awful basement flat in the seediest side of town and a very rich, high flying family (father, mother, teenage daughter and younger son) who live an extremely grand architect-designed, spacious house in the town’s predictably posh part.

One summer, the poor family’s son, posing as a bright, confident college student, gets the chance to tutor the rich family’s teenage daughter. The mother is duly conned and convinced she’s found the perfect tutor… and he then manages to persuade the mother to employ his sister (not that the mother knows it’s his sister) as an art tutor for her younger son. It’s all bluff and posing but, very quickly, the former unemployed siblings realise that they’re on to a ‘very good thing’… and, in turn, manage to get the housekeeper and chauffeur sacked and replaced by… their mother and father (but, again, the rich family aren’t aware of this)!

Are you following me?

I think it would be unfair to explain much more of the plot… but let’s just say that it all doesn’t end wonderfully well for any of the players (and it gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Upstairs, Downstairs!).

It’s a film that highlights the contrasting worlds of the ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’. It’s funny. It’s a cross between a horror picture and a slapstick film. It’s wonderfully put together and acted… and it’s bizarrely brilliant.

You’re really going to have to see it for yourself, aren’t you… you won’t be disappointed.

the lighthouse..

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Robert Eggers’ film “The Lighthouse”. It’s a story/psychological thriller about two lighthouse keepers on a remote New England island in the 1890s. Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson) reluctantly arrives on the island to undertake work at its lighthouse for four weeks. He’s met by veteran seafarer Tom Wake (Willem Dafoe) who is the senior officer and who issues all the orders – essentially Wake alone keeps the light in operation, while Winslow is given all the thankless, punishing physical work. And so starts a difficult, volatile, combative relationship...

It’s all pretty grim: the weather is dire pretty well throughout the film – storm-force winds, lashing rain and wild, wild seas (and accentuated by the shimmering 35mm black and white filming) – and the lighthouse keepers descend into a nightmarish world of resentment, paranoia and fear. Although the pair have moments of playful merriment (with singing, table-thumping and dancing – all largely thanks to alcohol), more and more of their time is spent in argument, physical confrontation, furious baiting and hatred.

The acting is quite brilliant and the cinematography (Jarin Blaschke) and score (Mark Korven) both a perfect match.

The film verges on being a horror movie… it’s haunting. It certainly deals with madness, loneliness, claustrophobic environment, frustration, periodic bouts of frightening drunkenness and all the awfulness of dealing with sewage, full chamber-pots, primitive facilities... and seagulls.

The dialogue is frequently mumbled – so I was delighted that I watched the Watershed’s sub-titled version

It’s a very bleak, uncomfortable film… but it’s also rather beautiful and hugely impressive.

I don't think it's a film that one can 'enjoy', as such, but I can certainly appreciate why so many film critics have been giving it five-star reviews. Definitely worth seeing.

missing you already...

The UK bidding farewell to the EU has been the worst political experience in my lifetime. We’ve gone from those heady days of the London 2012 Olympics - when the entire country seemed to come together - to these dark days (you may have a different view on this, of course) of division, confrontation and even hatred. Despite the fact that a majority of the population voted in December for parties which supported a second referendum, Brexit has now happened (even though we still don’t know its consequences) and, clearly, we need to move on.

Today, the Guardian published a collection of impressive, thoughtful reflections from writers, artists, musicians, and cultural figures from across the EU (check it out here).

I found them hugely powerful insights into what we had lost.

Every single one of the reflections is worth reading, but here are just a few extracts:

“What breaks my heart in Britain leaving the European project is the dark message that Brexit delivers to the entire planet: every nation for itself, instead of collaborating for the common good; everybody making its own rules, instead of searching for common ground; every group competing with the others, instead of solving the common problems together. Brexit is a step in the direction of disintegration, disunity, confrontation; a path that has proven dramatically dangerous so many times in the past” (Carlo Rovelli, Physicist. Italy).

“The tragedy of Brexit is that it was shaped and designed after the referendum. Nobody ever voted for what has been done. Most people voting for Brexit had no vision or idea of all it would entail. The depth of the nonsense of ‘a little bit’ undoing 40 years of integration and shared progress only became apparent to them after the event… The other tragedy is that Labour didn’t distance itself from the Brexit project, when the neoliberal hard-right nature of its ideology came to light after 2016. Why the party and its leader remained on the fence is beyond belief” (Wolfgang Tillmans, Photographer+Turner prize-winner. Germany).

“Brexit is, above all, a lesson to those – and I’m one of them – who believe that no good can ever come from nationalism and isolationism. Brexit seduces some to fantasise about an independent Scotland and a united Ireland. Perhaps it reveals the conscious or unconscious desire to redraw borders without an actual war. Britain’s departure is not so much a bitter lesson for populists as it is a bitter defeat for those who hoped and fought for a different outcome. Ending the status quo is often not a sign of progress but just another example of the old and all too human lust for destruction” (Arnon Grunberg, writer+columnist. Netherlands).

“The EU may not be perfect but Finland has experienced unprecedented prosperity and stability since it joined. And for Finnish kids to have all of Europe open to them through Erasmus and other programmes, it’s so beautifully enriching. But more than that, the very idea is wonderful. It is utopian, it is deeply human; it puts a lot of faith in the goodness and rationality of people. I feel that there are not that many other ideas around odf that magnitude. To abandon it feels very wrong to me. The very decision to start to close your borders, to leave one of the greatest ideas of unity, friendship, liberty and peace in recent history – maybe ever – is immense” (Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor London Philharmonia orchestra. Finland).

“I am sorry the British are leaving at a time when none of the big social problems: growing inequality or global migration, the enormous power of international corporations and financial markets, or the climate crisis, can be solved by individual nation states. I’m sorry that at a time in history crying out for internationalism that the British people have given up on their European identity. I will miss the British fighting spirit, defiance and wit, but not its contempt for the collective pursuit of a more democratic, more equal, more solidarity-based, fairer and greener Europe” (Dino Bauk, columnist and short-story writer. Slovenia).

“I have admired Britain ever since I was very young for, among other things, having just the right dose of conservatism and humour. But lately, some UK politicians have been exploring a ‘revolutionary’ style that has led to a sad loss of humour. It is hard to understand how, out of all the many imperfections in today’s world, one could choose the fragile European Union as the adversary? How can isolation be a political ideal? (Andrei Plesu, Philosopher+former foreign minister. Romania).

For me, the phrase “Missing you already” is a massive understatement.

Note: “Missing You Already”, The Guardian supplement: 1 February 2020 (editors: Katherine Butler, Mark Rice-Oxley, Joe Stone and Clare Margetson).