Have you come far? What are you reading?

Wrote an article about the Plinth for OM magazine, a yoga publication.  Steve came round and we watched the video of me on the Plinth.  I don’t seem to have made it into the week’s highlights, although that does say “Last week’s highlights” so maybe that was the week before (That was the week, that was – remember TW3?).

I am reading an Alan Bennett called The Uncommon Reader.  It’s about the Queen discovering a mobile library outside the Palace and starting to read.  As with all Alan Bennetts, every male in it is gay.

Trinity today.  I shall wear my new skirt.  Then this evening people are coming round to watch the video and eat pizza.

Drank a lot of wine last night.  It was great!  Oh, and Steve, having bought a wine box for the first time, complained about how hard it was to get the wine out.  Turns out he’d dismantled the box and tried to get the wine out by wringing the bag!

We put him right.

Kirk out

PS Oh!  And we have booked a week in East Sussex, near Pevensey Bay.  Should be great!

Margrave of the Marshes

… and now I find myself needing to write more about John Peel.  The impressive thing about Peel is not merely his humility, which was genuine, nor his humanity, which was real, nor his interest in other people, which many have attested, nor the longevity and devotion of his marriage, which is rare but not unheard-of.  No, the most amazing thing about John Peel – and this continues to strike me with force whenever I encounter the man – is his incredible one-off-ness.  You have only to see a photo of him or – as I did a while ago, watch a video of the Old Grey String Vest (sorry, I mean Whistle Test) where he is simply sitting there, on a stool, nodding in time to the music and – oh hell, just BEING John Peel – to appreciate this.  There’s a photo in the book of him and Alan (Fluff) Freeman dancing on a roof of the BBC or something – and though their poses are nearly identical, the difference between them couldn’t be more striking.  Fluff has a manic grin, engages the camera, says, “Look at me!  Isn’t this great!  Here I am!”  – while John… John just is.

He was a rare gem.  And we miss him.  Long may he live in our memories.

Kirk out.

HPHBP Review (warning – contains spoilers)

Yes.  Potter.  Very pleasantly surprised by the sixth film, since the same director did the fifth one well, but not too wisely – ie it was much too short.  I guess he looked at the length of the book and panicked.  As anyone would.  So.  Yes.  I’m impressed by how the same cast has followed through all the films – not only in the main parts – which, as the actors have gone through adolescence and are now young adults, is no mean feat, but all the minor parts as well.  So far as I can see, the only change occurred when Richard Harris, who was a great Dumbledore, had the temerity to die after the first film.  One of the great pleasures for me is in watching the children grow up.

There’s a lot of humour in this film, necessarily so because the stories grow darker as the books progress.  Clearly some of the people in the cinema hadn’t read the book, because they were totally shocked when Snape killed Dumbledore.  I was completely gripped throughout the 2 1/2 hours and my first thought on exiting was that i wanted to see it again.

One thing they didn’t do so much (or at least, i didn’t notice it) was to tell the minor stories in the background (eg by a look exchanged, or some people arguing – something which is never explained but which those who know the books will understand.)  I think that what they’re doing, now the series is coming to its climax, is concentrating on the main plot – which in itself is complicated enough to demand all your attention.

I count myself a sophisticated reader – but I couldn’t guess what would happen at the end of the seventh book.  If you don’t know, here’s what happened:

Oh, damn!  We’re out of time.  See you tomorrow.

Kirk out.

PS  Read it yourself.  It’s good.  Honest.

PPS Who was it who loved “not wisely but too well”?

When I am old I shall wear mauve…

this morning’s conversation in bed (picture, if you will, the two of us sitting up in bed drinking tea and coffee, conversing animatedly on whatever subjects float across the akasha of our mind)

Ah! Did you spot the Sanskrit word there?  “Akasha” means “space” and “chid-akasha” means “mind-space”.  But I digress.

The subject of today’s bed-tea-and-coffee-conversation was the word “mauve” and how nobody ever uses it any more (my mate Tony in Chester reckoned that only middle-aged ladies in Harrogate tea-shops ever used it.  I think he’d been reading too much Alan Bennett) and then Mark dredged up from the recesses of his memory the fact that “mauve” used to be a euphemism for “gay” (which in turn used to be a synonym for “happy” but let’s not go there.)  Then I dredged up (though with somewhat less effort) from my memory the line from “Withnail and I”:

-  He’s so mauve, we don’t know what he’s planning.

Check it out.  Great film.

Incidentally, “Withnail” is pronounced “With-nerll” with a schwa on the second vowel.  Which pretty much brings us back to where we were yesterday.

Watched the tennis.  Andy Murray through.

Today I am going to meet my new friend Claire and discover what kind of personality I have.

TTFN

PS I am reading John Peel’s autobiog, “Margrave of the Marshes” and in between bouts of affection and sadness that he’s dead, trying to analyse his highly individual writing style.

Here’s the new plan…

Slept badly, woke up this morning – and now I have a new plan! I think I’m finally ready to start writing my novel. OK so I’ve already written a novel and a half (literally – I don’t mean that my first one was so brilliant that it was a “novel and a half”). The first one was called Seven Days and was about a woman spending a week in a nuclear bunker (yes, it was a long time ago); the second, called “M”, was about a man who changes sex half way through, but I couldn’t make it work. Writing both of these was like blundering about in a dark forest with only the vaguest idea of what a path should look like. I’m still blundering about in a dark forest, but now I’ve learnt the names of some of the trees, and the squirrels are my friends. Some of them even bring me nuts. Speaking of which…

Retaining one’s sanity (as regular readers of this blog will know) can be a bit of an issue, so I need to do plenty of gardening, cleaning, decorating etc to keep me in touch with the physical world. Other than that I am spending my leisure time (as are we all) ploughing through the ten series of Friends which we are acquiring on DVD (we used to have the whole lot on video but they took up half the living-room.) Whether this will help on the sanity front, I don’t know (could I be any more sane?) but it sure is fun. And now, on with the day. I am so gonna write that novel!

Tyger tyger burning…lite

Caution – Book Review Ahead

Just read Tracy Chevalier’s latest book, Burning Bright, and I have to say I don’t think it is her best: in fact it bears all the hallmarks of a novel written in a hurry. Set against the backdrop of the French revolution, it spans a period of just over a year (1792-3) and tells the story of a family who move from Dorset to Lambeth, largely through the eyes of the children. Chevalier has clearly done her research very thoroughly – and that’s the problem: the research is far too obvious. She hasn’t lived with it and allowed it to settle – so the facts she has learnt about chair-making, for example (the father’s trade), or button-making (what the mother and daughter do in their spare time) and about life in late 18^th-century London, intrude on the narrative instead of being in the background. But the biggest bone I have to pick with this novel are the narrative contrivances which bring William Blake (yes, the William Blake) into their lives. First and most improbably, the family move all the way from Dorset and find themselves living right next door to the Blakes: not only that, the first time they see him, he happens to be wearing the Bonnet Rouge which proclaims him a supporter of the French revolution, thus helpfully ushering in this theme. Then the lad of the family, Jem, who has formed a friendship with local girl Maggie, is discussing with her in the street the question of opposites: a most improbable conversation in the context of their usual topics – and who should happen along at that very moment to clear everything up and quote from his own Songs of Innocence and Experience – but Mr Blake himself! Blake’s poetry is quoted much too freely and at length throughout (as assiduous readers of this blog will know, I am a fan of Blake, so that is not the rub) and there were times when I thought that I had stumbled upon a child’s guide to Blake’s poetry and his life and times.

That said, it speaks volumes for Chevalier’s narrative and descriptive powers that I enjoyed reading this book. Her descriptions of the London of the era were compelling, the historical detail, though intrusive, was often fascinating, and I cared about the characters enough to follow them to the end. I was outraged by the sexual and political hypocrisy – and she does do a good job of putting the background to this aspect of Blake’s work across. However, I thought the narrative a little disjointed and ill-thought-out, especially towards the end where two pregnant girls arrive in Dorset, hastily invent husbands who are at war or in prison, but don’t think of procuring wedding-rings.

Not her best – and definitely not up to the standard of Girl with a Pearl Earring. She has written two or three others so I’ll give these a go and see what I think.

Have you read this? Let me know what you think.

I think I shall do more book reviews on this blog. If there’s a book you would like me to read, let me know. But for now I shall just recommend to you (coincidentally with a very similar title) last year’s Booker Prize winner, White Tiger, by Arvind Bhatt. Read it a few weeks ago, couldn’t put it down, and now parts of it keep coming back to my mind. Also, if you’ve got about three months to spare, A Suitable Boy. Best three months I ever spent. Well, almost.

Enjoy the day. Let me know what you’re reading.