scenes of chemical life: george eliot, nick kent and other writers i've read, re-read, half-read etc

Lately I've been reading about communism ('fully automated luxury' variety: well, it's a provocation wrapped in a single phrase... see also singularity, accelerationism), the 1960s/ 1970s, social media and how to commit fraud: go figure.

I've been seeing the Sex Pistols through Nick Kent's eyes as chancers, sociopaths, thieves and fellow junkies (he prefers The Clash, both as artists and as people... though the terms in which he prefers them are reminiscent of Marty De Bergi's praising Spinal Tap for "their exuberance, their raw power - and their punctuality"); I've also seen them as philosophes by watching the trailer for Julien Temple's The Filth and The Fury with French subtitles on. L'Obscenite et la Fureur, 'reveillez-toi, Sid.' (I've watched the actual movie three or four times, and you should too: loved the video collage effect, loved  'punk as music hall'). 

I've been going to Wells Fountain Poets semi-regularly; at January's meeting, there isn't a guest poet (it'd be mean to drag someone out so soon after Christmas) and, instead of us reading our own work during the open mic, we read other people's; it's a great way to get to know new work. I'll be taking Krzysztof Jaworski's 'Monodrama' (which leapt out at me from Altered State, an anthology of Polish poetry in translation, ed. Rod Mengham, Tadeusz Pioro & Piotr Szymor) and also David Bowie's 'Eight Line Poem'... if only to stir up that old Keats-Dylan hornets' nest. It's straight after 'Oh You Pretty Things' (possibly the creepiest and best paean to the Ubermensch in all of popular music) on Hunky Dory. Perhaps I'll sing it. There are other controversies these days, e.g. about whether artless sincerity is of value, and who has the right to imitate, ventriloquise or represent whom. Never annoy or vex a poet.

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George Eliot's Middlemarch. So let’s re-tell entire story from the POV of the ‘stupendous spider’ that good-hearted, mediocre clergyman (& enthusiastic naturalist) Camden Farebrother shows soi-disant ‘brown patch’ Mary Garth. 

(My sixth re-read, and I’m already pitching an interpretative dance version for next year’s Edinburgh Fringe. I like this novel a lot; keep seeing new meanings and correspondances; when Virginia Woolf called it “one of the few English novels written for grownup people,” she was right).  

James Woods' How Fiction Works. Numbered paragraphs: who does Wood think he is, Nietzsche? A series of glimpses into free indirect style, Nabokov, Flaubert etc; suitable for reading on the Eurostar.

Howard Jacobson's Coming From Behind. Though this novel (misanthropic generally; bordering particularly on misogyny, homophobia, class hatred) isn’t terrible, it’s not-terrible in a ranting, 1980s stand-up comedy way... so didn’t finish. 

Robert L. Moore & Douglas Gillette's King Warrior Magician Lover. Everyone in mythopoetic men’s movement (guilty as charged)’s read Moore-and-Gillette and Iron John, like everyone in second wave feminism read ‘Second Sex’ and ‘Female Eunuch’. Worthwhile, though. 

Chris Stokel-Walker's Youtubers. Gaming’s bigger ($-wise) than Hollywood and the music industry combined; top youtubers (PewDiePie, Zoella et al) get larger U.K. viewerships than Strictly; enjoyed this useful cultural/sociological primer. 

Aaron Bastani's Fully Automated Luxury Communism. Provocative, clever title; interesting on AI, robotics etc. Remember the Socialist Workers' Party paper seller who told you that computers, e.g. BBC Micros, are the reason communism (never yet tried; "neither Washington nor Moscow" and all that) can now work, despite Hayek’s criticisms of command economies per se..? It's a bit like that at times. In making such a comparison, I'm being a bit cheap (like Government-subsidised Spreewald pickles in former East Germany); I just can't help myself.

Dan Davies' Lying For Money. Though lived forwards, money must be understood backwards. This more granular book offers a historical typology of fraud, telling us plenty about complex societies and ‘honest’ capitalism. 

Nick Kent's Apathy For The Devil: A 1970s Memoir. Handy 1970s discography (back pages) soundtracks this my-drug-hell page-turner from legendary rock journo who loves and hates superlatively (loves: Bowie, The Clash, Joni Mitchell; hates: Sham 69, Jethro Tull, Queen). 

Sheila Rowbotham's Promise Of A Dream: Remembering The Sixties. New Left into second-wave feminism. Features (memoirs interest me for their 'brief lives') "a bearded Sikh Maoist from Hemel Hempstead" who attends one meeting (entering and exiting within a sentence). 

Ian MacDonald's Revolution In The Head. Complete annotated Beatles discography, which brings a wealth of sociological, literary and musical erudition to the party; be prepared to lose whole afternoons, if a Beatles fan. 

if it seems too good to be true: some films i've seen lately

Aside from The Sun Is Also A Star - which you should see - the best films listed below are the French ones (which S. and I watched in order to re-acclimatise to le French-speaking prior to a Parisian weekend break), particularly Lolo written by and starring by Julie Delpy. We did take one photo of a Lolo-style photo of "a view of the Eiffel Tower" from Montparnasse - i.e., barely a view of the Eiffel Tower - as well more conventionally touristic views of landmarks; we also photographed almost every artwork on the fifth floor of the Pompidou Centre (ways of seeing?) and visited Le Caveau de la Huchette jazz club. Nice!

Frankenstein Created Woman (1967, dir. Terence Fisher, starring Peter Cushing, Susan Denberg) - If it seems too good to be true, it probably is; don't go for a picnic in woodland with sexy Susan Denberg if you've a bad conscience.

(Trigger warnings: gender essentialism, outdated attitudes to disability, a trio of 'young blades' who resemble the Bullingdon Club and smash up restaurants in Old Tory style).

Harry, He’s Here To Help / With A Friend Like Harry / Harry, un ami qui vous veut du bien (2000, dir. Dominik Moll, starring Stephane Freiss, Anouk Grinberg, Agathe Dronne) –  Pleasingly amoral allegory: everyman character kills & (symbolically) eats/ incorporates murderous friend/antagonist/ shadow, unlocks own creativity, becomes own father (see: existentialism), wins spousal respect, acquires air-conditioned 4x4.  

The Village (2004, dir. M Night Shyamalan, starring Sigourney Weaver, William Hurt, Joaquin Phoenix) – This looks and feels a lot like his previous, ‘Signs’; loses by the comparison, though; feels underpowered; the ending (unfelt, unresolved) feels like a shrug, a retreat. 

Albert Camus (2010, dir. Laurent Jaoui, starring Stephane Freiss, Anouk Grinberg, Agathe Dronne) – Down these mean Algerian streets, a man must philosophise; then that wise-guy Sartre shows up, spills his guts about ‘Les Temps Modernes’ and some dame called Simone. 

The Woman In Black (2012, dir. James Watkins, screenplay by Jane Goldman from novel by Susan Hill; starring Daniel Radcliffe) – Couldn’t care sufficiently about glum, bereaved (insufficiently versatile) Daniel Radcliffe as protagonist; repeated shots of Victorian bric-a-brac (clockwork toys etc) felt de trop. Liked car/ quicksand business. 

Lolo (2015, dir. Julie Delpy, starring Julie Delpy, Dany Boon, Vincent Lacoste) – French writers are often wittier, more stylish about the sexual/ romantic marketplace (plus Oedipal and other family romances) than British/ American ones. Just observation, or cultural cringe? 

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018, dir. Susan Johnson, starring  Lana Condor, Noah Centineo, Janiel Parrish) - Y.A. romcom in which young lady’s letters designed not to be sent are sent, accidentally on purpose. A transparent plot-device; life, like art, is full of them. 

Wine Country (2019, dir. Amy Poehler, starring Amy Poehler, Rachel Dratch, Ana Gasteyer) - Forty- and fifty-something friends celebrate a significant birthday in this ensemble drama which comfortably passes the Bechdel test and contains hints of joy, tenderness, regret, millennial-baiting. 

The Sun Is Also A Star (2019, dir. Ry Russo-Young, screenplay by Tracy Oliver from novel by Nicola Yoon; starring Yara Shahidi, Anais Lee, Charles Melton) – This witty, beautifully photographed romcom showcases NY as third character (and, incidentally, educated me about the Korean-American stake in U.S. black hair care). Self, daughter, mum enjoyed.

 

thirteen dead souls

...or, essential resurfacing work on the A361.

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