THE CIVIL WAR. A film by Ken Burns (PBS America)
Life has been put on hold in our house over the last three days as we immersed ourselves in Ken Burns' epic (12 hour) documentary on America's greatest tragedy.
We Brits don't know much about the American Civil War. It isn't taught in schools, and who the heck cares? some might say. Yet we should empathise with our American friends, having fought our own vicious conflict setting brother against brother only a couple of hundred years earlier. Drawing deeply on contemporary letters, diaries and memoirs, Burns, in his slow, deceptively relaxed style, builds a truly compelling picture of life and death in the America of 1861-65
The Civil War was massive by any standards. Over 600,000 young men died in the four years of fighting; more than the combined losses of all the other wars America has fought. At Gettysburg alone, the "victorious" North lost 23,000 men, the South 28,000. At war's end, the South had lost 1 in 4 of its adult male population. Yet as the war began, things looked good for the secessionists. Time and again they won victories against a much larger and better equipped Union army, to the severe embarrassment of President Lincoln. His avowed aim was to bring the secessionists back into the fold of the United States, and this, it turns out, was even more important to him than the abolition of slavery. "If I could win them back without freeing the slaves I would willingly do so" he once said. But he couldn't, and there was no option but to crush the intransigent plantation owners of the South.
And crush them he did, a fact with which we should not be surprised, considering the North's infinitely larger industrial base and manpower. The wonder is why it took so long. In large part it was down to the brilliantly imaginative leadership of men like Robert E Lee and "Stonewall" Jackson, and to a correspondingly lamentable leadership offered by the Union, exemplified by the hesitant, fearful role of the North's principle general, George C McClellan, whose repeated failure to make the most of natural advantages gave a new meaning to the word "procrastination".
Of course the major achievement of the War was the emancipation of the slaves, although as several observers pointed out, the Blacks had to wait another hundred years before that emancipation became a true liberation for them. But, as the historian Shelby Foote pointed out at the close of this epic film, the biggest change brought about by the war could be summed up as follows:
"...Before the War, everyone used to say: 'The United States are..." After the War, and to this day, everyone says: 'The United States is...'"
Such a tiny change in a verb, you might think, but such huge significance for a nation. And the terrible suffering that had to be endured to achieve it...
Friday, 29 March 2013
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
The horror that is Syria today
Did you see Channel 4 news last night? They devoted the bulk of the programme to a film made by a German photojournalist who has been living in Aleppo for the past few months and has chronicled in horrific detail exactly what has been going on there.
What his film demonstrated was just how massive the war has become: affecting the lives of everyone, which ever side they may support. The film focused on a couple of children who had decided to help out in the makeshift hospital, hopelessly under-equipped and overloaded with casualties of the dreadful conflict. These children, only 12 years old but grown old before their time, applied dressings to the wounded; sometimes, as doctors and nurses have done throughout history when they have nothing physical to offer their charges, simply offered support and love. Then one of these children is hit by piece of shrapnel and brought, dying, to the very hospital he has worked in over the previous months of carnage.
There have been other terrible conflicts in Syria in the reign of the Assads. In 1982 perhaps as many as 20,000 people died in Homs when the Muslim Brotherhood rose up. But even that figure is nothing to the perhaps 250,000 souls who have been lost in the current fighting. And perhaps most ominously, on the ground in places like Aleppo, it is not the regime or even the opposition that is helping ordinary people on the street with food, clothing and other essentials, but the hard-line, Sharia promoting Islamists, who, understandably, are enjoying increasing support from the population. What this means for the future of Syria, and indeed the Middle East as a whole can only be guessed at, but we can be sure it marks an extremely worrying development- for everyone in the West certainly.
What his film demonstrated was just how massive the war has become: affecting the lives of everyone, which ever side they may support. The film focused on a couple of children who had decided to help out in the makeshift hospital, hopelessly under-equipped and overloaded with casualties of the dreadful conflict. These children, only 12 years old but grown old before their time, applied dressings to the wounded; sometimes, as doctors and nurses have done throughout history when they have nothing physical to offer their charges, simply offered support and love. Then one of these children is hit by piece of shrapnel and brought, dying, to the very hospital he has worked in over the previous months of carnage.
There have been other terrible conflicts in Syria in the reign of the Assads. In 1982 perhaps as many as 20,000 people died in Homs when the Muslim Brotherhood rose up. But even that figure is nothing to the perhaps 250,000 souls who have been lost in the current fighting. And perhaps most ominously, on the ground in places like Aleppo, it is not the regime or even the opposition that is helping ordinary people on the street with food, clothing and other essentials, but the hard-line, Sharia promoting Islamists, who, understandably, are enjoying increasing support from the population. What this means for the future of Syria, and indeed the Middle East as a whole can only be guessed at, but we can be sure it marks an extremely worrying development- for everyone in the West certainly.
Sunday, 24 March 2013
It's me eyes, doc
I was quite pleased with my most recent blog (Frack off!- 21.3.13)) until I spoke to a friend who told me it was almost unreadable due to the many glaring typos. Mortified, I returned to it and, this time armed with a powerful magnifying glass, put right the many errors.
And indeed, that is what has come to. I now carry a magnifying lens everywhere I go: to read my A to Z in the car, in the supermarket to read labels; the list goes on. I have one at work, which I have always used to look at skin rashes. In days of yore I used it more for show (patients always seem to be impressed when I get it out) - now it is essential for me to avoid missing something important; a malignant mole , say.
I am learning to juggle 3 pound coins at the moment. When I started I ran immediately into a major problem: when they fell on the floor I could no longer see them, disguised as they were by the background pattern of my carpet. So I have now painted them white with a black cross to make them more easily identifiable. Maybe that'll help. I'll keep you informed...
And indeed, that is what has come to. I now carry a magnifying lens everywhere I go: to read my A to Z in the car, in the supermarket to read labels; the list goes on. I have one at work, which I have always used to look at skin rashes. In days of yore I used it more for show (patients always seem to be impressed when I get it out) - now it is essential for me to avoid missing something important; a malignant mole , say.
I am learning to juggle 3 pound coins at the moment. When I started I ran immediately into a major problem: when they fell on the floor I could no longer see them, disguised as they were by the background pattern of my carpet. So I have now painted them white with a black cross to make them more easily identifiable. Maybe that'll help. I'll keep you informed...
Thursday, 21 March 2013
Frack off!
I usually do my best to miss the Budget, but details will filter through. Like hearing George Osborne has endorsed the process of fracking to such a degree that oil companies will receive preferential tax breaks and even be able to by-pass the usual planning process- all to smooth their path to despoiling the Earth for maximum profit.
Yet out there, tucked away in a drawer marked "Not enough easy money in these oddball ideas" are schemes that could provide gigawatts of sustainable power, if only the oil companies and the government had enough foresight to realise that this headlong rush to exploit the Earth's dwindling oil resources is, in the longer term, complete folly. There's real money in exploiting wind, solar and wave power. At the moment though, this government, with its ultra short term view, just can't, or won't, see it.
LONDON DISPATCH
One way of avoiding one's blood pressure experiencing a nasty hike while watching the budget is to chase around London in the freezing cold (you know that hateful thing: "3 degrees, feels like minus 2") and see a few things you haven't caught yet despite your dozens of visits to the capital.
Tuesday afternoon found us taking in the Kurt Schwitters exhibition at the Tate Britain. The show was called "Schwitters in Britain", which was in itself an education for me, because I didn't even know there was such a connection. He established his reputation in the Dada and Surrealist movements through strangely inhabited rooms he called his Merz Baus, but in the late 30s the Nazis took against him and declared his work "degenerate". He fled to Scotland, but was picked up and spent the War years interned on the Isle of Man as an "enemy alien" Here he produced some of his most imaginative and innovative work. The founder of the concept of the "installation" and "found art" he worked with what he could find in his camp, sparing swirls of paint, a bit of chicken wire, bus tickets, receipts, advertising fliers- all was grist to his uniquely inspired mill.
That night we saw Strindberg's "Miss Julie" transferred from a chilly Scandinavia to a parched, modern-day South Africa. Powerful and harrowing stuff from a terrific South African cast.
Wednesday morning saw us wandering round the quixotically strange "Leighton House" in Chelsea, where the 19th century nobleman and pres of the RA decorated his huge town house in the style of a Damascene villa, with genuine tiling, rugs and ceramics which produce a strange and beguiling atmosphere. I fancy, however, it would have looked even better under the dazzling blue skies of Syria than the lowering, almost menacing cloud cover of a London winter.
Finally, we visited the Temple Church in Fleet Street, lovingly restored after being bombed flat by the Luftwaffe in 1941. Almost next door we took a peek at the Middle Temple Hall. Closed to the public the sign said, but the infinitely relaxed security guy was happy to admit pretty much anyone who asked, so we were able to marvel at the extraordinary timber roof- more impressive than the roof of Westminster Hall. The same night the nearby church was destroyed, another large bomb fell just outside the Great Hall , but it survived largely intact.
Then the ever helpful guard told us we could even have had lunch there and rubbed shoulders with all the QCs and Old Bailey judges, but we couldn't fit it in on the day. He passed us a card with numbers for us to ring ahead to be sure of a place. We're gonna do it...
Yet out there, tucked away in a drawer marked "Not enough easy money in these oddball ideas" are schemes that could provide gigawatts of sustainable power, if only the oil companies and the government had enough foresight to realise that this headlong rush to exploit the Earth's dwindling oil resources is, in the longer term, complete folly. There's real money in exploiting wind, solar and wave power. At the moment though, this government, with its ultra short term view, just can't, or won't, see it.
LONDON DISPATCH
One way of avoiding one's blood pressure experiencing a nasty hike while watching the budget is to chase around London in the freezing cold (you know that hateful thing: "3 degrees, feels like minus 2") and see a few things you haven't caught yet despite your dozens of visits to the capital.
Tuesday afternoon found us taking in the Kurt Schwitters exhibition at the Tate Britain. The show was called "Schwitters in Britain", which was in itself an education for me, because I didn't even know there was such a connection. He established his reputation in the Dada and Surrealist movements through strangely inhabited rooms he called his Merz Baus, but in the late 30s the Nazis took against him and declared his work "degenerate". He fled to Scotland, but was picked up and spent the War years interned on the Isle of Man as an "enemy alien" Here he produced some of his most imaginative and innovative work. The founder of the concept of the "installation" and "found art" he worked with what he could find in his camp, sparing swirls of paint, a bit of chicken wire, bus tickets, receipts, advertising fliers- all was grist to his uniquely inspired mill.
That night we saw Strindberg's "Miss Julie" transferred from a chilly Scandinavia to a parched, modern-day South Africa. Powerful and harrowing stuff from a terrific South African cast.
Wednesday morning saw us wandering round the quixotically strange "Leighton House" in Chelsea, where the 19th century nobleman and pres of the RA decorated his huge town house in the style of a Damascene villa, with genuine tiling, rugs and ceramics which produce a strange and beguiling atmosphere. I fancy, however, it would have looked even better under the dazzling blue skies of Syria than the lowering, almost menacing cloud cover of a London winter.
Finally, we visited the Temple Church in Fleet Street, lovingly restored after being bombed flat by the Luftwaffe in 1941. Almost next door we took a peek at the Middle Temple Hall. Closed to the public the sign said, but the infinitely relaxed security guy was happy to admit pretty much anyone who asked, so we were able to marvel at the extraordinary timber roof- more impressive than the roof of Westminster Hall. The same night the nearby church was destroyed, another large bomb fell just outside the Great Hall , but it survived largely intact.
Then the ever helpful guard told us we could even have had lunch there and rubbed shoulders with all the QCs and Old Bailey judges, but we couldn't fit it in on the day. He passed us a card with numbers for us to ring ahead to be sure of a place. We're gonna do it...
Sunday, 17 March 2013
Palestinians underwhelmed by Obama's visit
Next week President Obama is to visit the Holy Land; on his agenda is included a visit to Bethlehem's Church of the Holy Nativity, the church alleged to mark the site of the Redeemer's birthplace. On the face of it this is good news for the besieged denizens of the occupied West Bank. But as a number of Palestinian voices have pointed out, this is a well known stopping-off place for visitors to Israel. Coachloads by the dozen inhabit the car park next to the famous church every day, disgorging their occupants to have a quick gander at the famous church before proceeding quickly to safer places behind the great segregation wall. Tour guides remind the visitors not to tarry in local shops where they will probably be ripped off at best, or kidnapped and sold into the white slavery market at worst. So the thousands of daily visitors to Bethlehem contribute very little to the economy of the local citizenry.
Obama's visit could therefore be described as so much political window dressing: a meaningless gesture while America continues to be in thrall to the mystique of the Jewish state. During the recent election campaign, no one, Obama included, dared to say a single word against the injustices perpetrated by the Israelis every day in the occupied territories, cowed into silence by the all-powerful influence of the Jewish lobby. So the Palestinian people may welcome an American president- they are famous for their hospitality. But they won't be expecting any change at all in America's policy of "My Israel, right or wrong".
Obama's visit could therefore be described as so much political window dressing: a meaningless gesture while America continues to be in thrall to the mystique of the Jewish state. During the recent election campaign, no one, Obama included, dared to say a single word against the injustices perpetrated by the Israelis every day in the occupied territories, cowed into silence by the all-powerful influence of the Jewish lobby. So the Palestinian people may welcome an American president- they are famous for their hospitality. But they won't be expecting any change at all in America's policy of "My Israel, right or wrong".
Friday, 15 March 2013
The darkness at the heart of the NHS
The MP Ann Clywd recently watched her husband die in hospital and was horrified at the lack of humanity offered by the nurses who "cared" for him. Since her tearful revelations were broadcast she has received hundreds of letters and emails from ordinary citizens chronicling similarly appalling examples of the new NHS in action.
This week I uncovered a tales from my own practice which elegantly illustrates just how the brave new NHS operates: A woman patient, never keen to attend the doctor's surgery at the best of times, came in to see our nurse. At 3 months following the delivery of her baby, our practice nurse struck while the iron was hot and performed a cervical smear, a procedure she had never had before. She knew was taking a chance, because the guidelines state that a patient must be 3 months, or 12 weeks, post delivery before a smear may be performed. As it happened the smear was performed at precisely 11 weeks and 5 days.
A letter promptly came back form the smear administrative body stating that the slide would not even be examined because it was taken within the prescribed time- by just 2 days.
What this means is that the hapless woman (who we might well never see again, certainly in a mood to have a repeat smear) has to have a second, uncomfortable, invasive and embarrassing procedure performed- all because no one was prepared to cut her (and us) even the slightest degree of slack. What happened to common sense and using one's discretion? Gone the way of simple humane caring I suggest. It is only a small case, I grant, but to me symptomatic of the faceless, cynical bureaucratic mindset that has pervaded the NHS in recent years
This week I uncovered a tales from my own practice which elegantly illustrates just how the brave new NHS operates: A woman patient, never keen to attend the doctor's surgery at the best of times, came in to see our nurse. At 3 months following the delivery of her baby, our practice nurse struck while the iron was hot and performed a cervical smear, a procedure she had never had before. She knew was taking a chance, because the guidelines state that a patient must be 3 months, or 12 weeks, post delivery before a smear may be performed. As it happened the smear was performed at precisely 11 weeks and 5 days.
A letter promptly came back form the smear administrative body stating that the slide would not even be examined because it was taken within the prescribed time- by just 2 days.
What this means is that the hapless woman (who we might well never see again, certainly in a mood to have a repeat smear) has to have a second, uncomfortable, invasive and embarrassing procedure performed- all because no one was prepared to cut her (and us) even the slightest degree of slack. What happened to common sense and using one's discretion? Gone the way of simple humane caring I suggest. It is only a small case, I grant, but to me symptomatic of the faceless, cynical bureaucratic mindset that has pervaded the NHS in recent years
Thursday, 14 March 2013
New pope elcted: world goes nuts (well, a bit)
In a rare example of progressive thinking the conclave of the cardinals broke with tradition yesterday and voted in a pope from Latin America. And although we shouldn't necessarily hang around waiting for him to give his support to contraception or gay marriage, we should, I believe, celebrate the fact that they have voted for a man who was in the vanguard of "liberation theology" in that benighted continent, which promoted the idea of building a Heaven on Earth, in a time when the church's attitude was basically, if you're poor and exploited right now, don't worry, it'll be all right once you get into Heaven. So let's wish him well.
Today comes news that is far more serious. The British arm of the American giant Lockheed Martin announced plans to harvest the ocean floor for precious metals. Apparently gold, copper and other precious metals accumulate around hydro-thermal vents, so they plan to send special craft down to the abysmal depths and snap off the chimneys that form around these vents, and then hoover up the mineral-rich rubble. But these vents are home to a number of unique life-forms found nowhere else. Indeed, some people believe these vents may well be where life began on planet Earth, 3.5 billion years ago.
Do Lockheed Martin care about these issues? Do they fuck. They know the electronics industry is crying out for the rare-earth elements that can be sucked up, plus of course, I believe there is still quite a good market for gold. Compare these potential riches with the destruction of a uniquely precious habitat and there's only one answer: fuck it and give me the money. Pelagius says: stop this vandalism before it gets started!
Today comes news that is far more serious. The British arm of the American giant Lockheed Martin announced plans to harvest the ocean floor for precious metals. Apparently gold, copper and other precious metals accumulate around hydro-thermal vents, so they plan to send special craft down to the abysmal depths and snap off the chimneys that form around these vents, and then hoover up the mineral-rich rubble. But these vents are home to a number of unique life-forms found nowhere else. Indeed, some people believe these vents may well be where life began on planet Earth, 3.5 billion years ago.
Do Lockheed Martin care about these issues? Do they fuck. They know the electronics industry is crying out for the rare-earth elements that can be sucked up, plus of course, I believe there is still quite a good market for gold. Compare these potential riches with the destruction of a uniquely precious habitat and there's only one answer: fuck it and give me the money. Pelagius says: stop this vandalism before it gets started!
Sunday, 10 March 2013
Vince Cable for PM!
The other day Vince Cable, perhaps the ablest politician in the cabinet right now, accused certain factions within the Tory party of waging "economic jihad" about the spending cuts.
He has challenged a number of policy issues; specifically the "sacred cow" status awarded to certain areas, including health and education. He has questioned whether this is the right move now, especially as we are discovering the extent to which ordinary people will be affected by the cuts: 1 million women, for instance, who will have to take cuts in their maternity benefits. And that's just the beginning.
Last year Vince alerted us to the band of "right wing nutters" in the American Congress who make any kind of state funded health care virtually impossible (these same nutters are of course the same nutters who resist any limitation on the ownership of firearms, even fully automatic assault rifles). He might as well go the whole hog and name and shame a bunch of right wing nutters in the Tory party who what to cut, cut, cut, without any consideration of any other, fairer, way of making ends meet in our economy.
You go Vince! Keep making it awkward for the bastards!
He has challenged a number of policy issues; specifically the "sacred cow" status awarded to certain areas, including health and education. He has questioned whether this is the right move now, especially as we are discovering the extent to which ordinary people will be affected by the cuts: 1 million women, for instance, who will have to take cuts in their maternity benefits. And that's just the beginning.
Last year Vince alerted us to the band of "right wing nutters" in the American Congress who make any kind of state funded health care virtually impossible (these same nutters are of course the same nutters who resist any limitation on the ownership of firearms, even fully automatic assault rifles). He might as well go the whole hog and name and shame a bunch of right wing nutters in the Tory party who what to cut, cut, cut, without any consideration of any other, fairer, way of making ends meet in our economy.
You go Vince! Keep making it awkward for the bastards!
Friday, 8 March 2013
Fuching Fuch's
Allow me to go on about my eyes for a moment. First I have good news. I saw my esteemed ophthalmologist last month and I am pleased to say he gave me a further year's grace before re-considering the necessity for corneal transplantation.
The condition has advanced a little, I was told, but not too quickly. Excellent. But then there's also my left-sided cataract. When the time does come for a transplant, he explained, they would do the cataract first and then go on with the other procedure some weeks later.
OK.Now I have the sort of mind that runs through likely future evnts with great and awful accuracy sometimes. But it would be abundantly clear to anyone that I'm going to be in for an awful lot of hassle when all that goes down. All that messing about with your eyes? I mean, evolution trained us to keep everything away from our eyes, right? But wait, we haven't finished with the good news yet. Almost in passing he mentions how with any luck my vision after it has all been done could well be better than it has been for twenty years. Now this is wonderful to hear, obviously,
The fact is, more and more often recently, little things are starting to happen which are a just little bit scary. Earlier this year I read my first book, cover to cover, using a magnifying glass exclusively, I am currently using a Kindle, which is actually a lot easier because you can adjust the font size to suit whatever level of blindyness you might be at. Then the other day I was taking some pictures indoors and put my lens cap down on the carpet. When I came to retrieve it a few minutes later it had merged into the pattern of the carpet and become invisible. I scrabbled around on the carpet for several mimnutes before giving up. Hours later, when my wife came home I asked her if she could see it at all. Instantly she pointed and said: "There it is."
I am still driving: I still fulfil the criteria for the driving test- viz: a number plate at 20 metres- but only just. My visual acuity is, officially, with corrective lenses 6/9. That is to say, what you can comfortably see 9 metres away I have to stand only six metres away to see properly. And that's the problem. When it goes to 6/12 you're screwed, and should hand back your driving licence, lest you endanger yourself or others by reason of defective vision.
Aware of the insidious danger, I am taking precautions. I am giving myself a bigger than hitherto margin for error, always allowing for the possibility I may have grossly misjudged distances, sort of thing. Driving at night I can still just about do, In Fuch's the vision is worst in the mornings and improves steadily through the day. However, it also produces elaborate and multicoloured halos round all bright lights, which is not half as much fun as it sounds.
So I fantasise about being restored to the mythical 6/6 one day, a normal person again. Yet I do dread all that interference with my eyes that lies ahead. I will have to use eye drops and ointment several times a day for the remainder of my life, but I have been doing that for over over a year now and have become very skilled at it. Mind you, that's out of fear partly. Sometimes in Fuch's the cornea becomes so waterlogged it can burst spectacularly, with very severe consequences for the affected eye. Like 6/60. The regular salt water drops, which drag water away from the cornea by osmotic effect, reduce the risk of this happening somewhat. You can see why I've got so good at it...
One final advantage I have stumbled on: when going into a store I will go up to someone for help in finding some commodity. Before they get started with giving directions, I come in with:
"Look, do you think you could show me where that is? I'm partially sighted,"
It always works. Sometimes they will even scamper off and fetch it for you. I find it particularly useful in the local Blockbuster.
The condition has advanced a little, I was told, but not too quickly. Excellent. But then there's also my left-sided cataract. When the time does come for a transplant, he explained, they would do the cataract first and then go on with the other procedure some weeks later.
OK.Now I have the sort of mind that runs through likely future evnts with great and awful accuracy sometimes. But it would be abundantly clear to anyone that I'm going to be in for an awful lot of hassle when all that goes down. All that messing about with your eyes? I mean, evolution trained us to keep everything away from our eyes, right? But wait, we haven't finished with the good news yet. Almost in passing he mentions how with any luck my vision after it has all been done could well be better than it has been for twenty years. Now this is wonderful to hear, obviously,
The fact is, more and more often recently, little things are starting to happen which are a just little bit scary. Earlier this year I read my first book, cover to cover, using a magnifying glass exclusively, I am currently using a Kindle, which is actually a lot easier because you can adjust the font size to suit whatever level of blindyness you might be at. Then the other day I was taking some pictures indoors and put my lens cap down on the carpet. When I came to retrieve it a few minutes later it had merged into the pattern of the carpet and become invisible. I scrabbled around on the carpet for several mimnutes before giving up. Hours later, when my wife came home I asked her if she could see it at all. Instantly she pointed and said: "There it is."
I am still driving: I still fulfil the criteria for the driving test- viz: a number plate at 20 metres- but only just. My visual acuity is, officially, with corrective lenses 6/9. That is to say, what you can comfortably see 9 metres away I have to stand only six metres away to see properly. And that's the problem. When it goes to 6/12 you're screwed, and should hand back your driving licence, lest you endanger yourself or others by reason of defective vision.
Aware of the insidious danger, I am taking precautions. I am giving myself a bigger than hitherto margin for error, always allowing for the possibility I may have grossly misjudged distances, sort of thing. Driving at night I can still just about do, In Fuch's the vision is worst in the mornings and improves steadily through the day. However, it also produces elaborate and multicoloured halos round all bright lights, which is not half as much fun as it sounds.
So I fantasise about being restored to the mythical 6/6 one day, a normal person again. Yet I do dread all that interference with my eyes that lies ahead. I will have to use eye drops and ointment several times a day for the remainder of my life, but I have been doing that for over over a year now and have become very skilled at it. Mind you, that's out of fear partly. Sometimes in Fuch's the cornea becomes so waterlogged it can burst spectacularly, with very severe consequences for the affected eye. Like 6/60. The regular salt water drops, which drag water away from the cornea by osmotic effect, reduce the risk of this happening somewhat. You can see why I've got so good at it...
One final advantage I have stumbled on: when going into a store I will go up to someone for help in finding some commodity. Before they get started with giving directions, I come in with:
"Look, do you think you could show me where that is? I'm partially sighted,"
It always works. Sometimes they will even scamper off and fetch it for you. I find it particularly useful in the local Blockbuster.
Thursday, 7 March 2013
Farewell Hugo Chavez
In Caracas yesterday the people came onto the streets in their thousands to celebrate the life of their fallen leader. A small minority celebrated his death. I'm sure Senor Chavez might have shrugged at that and perhaps said, hey, you can't please all of the people all of the time. Elsewhere in the New World there must also have been many sighs of relief. The Americans hated him because he stood up to them in a way highly unusual for the relatively weak states of Latin America. But Venezuela is oil rich, and Chavez used that wealth to enrich the people through massive health, education and welfare programmes. Worst of all for the yanks was that he won democratic election after election, which proves a point made by some wag, namely that America disapproves of any country that has too little, or indeed too much, democracy.
They disapproved so much of Chaves, indeed, that the Big Dubya sent a three man hit squad to rub him out. Obvoiously they failed miserably. Call it the "Cletus" effect.
Throughout the 20th century the US made it plain they despised (or perhaps envied?) the British Empire and worked hard to undermine it. Yet all the while they were creating their own empire in Latin America, installing puppet dictators who would be paid off to toe the American party line. Remember the famous remark made by an American secretary of state about the brutal fascist dictator of Nicaragua, President Somosa:
"Sure he's a son of a bitch, but he's OUR son of a bitch"
Unfortunately, Chavez wasn't anyone's son of a bitch, which is one reason the Americans couldn't stand him. Another factor may have been his habit of making friends with various betes noir of the West, like Castro, Gaddafi and Assad, though we shouldn't forget that the last two on that list were also best buddies with the West until it all went to poo in one way or another. We're a capricious bunch, we in the enlightened West...
They disapproved so much of Chaves, indeed, that the Big Dubya sent a three man hit squad to rub him out. Obvoiously they failed miserably. Call it the "Cletus" effect.
Throughout the 20th century the US made it plain they despised (or perhaps envied?) the British Empire and worked hard to undermine it. Yet all the while they were creating their own empire in Latin America, installing puppet dictators who would be paid off to toe the American party line. Remember the famous remark made by an American secretary of state about the brutal fascist dictator of Nicaragua, President Somosa:
"Sure he's a son of a bitch, but he's OUR son of a bitch"
Unfortunately, Chavez wasn't anyone's son of a bitch, which is one reason the Americans couldn't stand him. Another factor may have been his habit of making friends with various betes noir of the West, like Castro, Gaddafi and Assad, though we shouldn't forget that the last two on that list were also best buddies with the West until it all went to poo in one way or another. We're a capricious bunch, we in the enlightened West...
Sunday, 3 March 2013
The re-writing of cultural history
There's a wonderful little moment in an episode of The Simpsons. Marge is berating Homer for crashing the car yet again. Homer turns round and says:
"But Marge, that was 20 minutes ago! Stop living in the past, Marge!"
In the white heat of all the revelations about Jimmy Savile, many people came forward to say that a lot of the cigar smoking one's behaviour might have been considered to be more or less normal for its time. I am 62 years old, which places me as a young adult during the "golden age" of Savile's abuses of young girls- the 70s. And sure, things were different in those days. There was more innuendo, and pinching and groping too, but not by me, or by the vast majority of the people I asociated with back then- young men who had been educated to respect women as different, but equal human beings, or to put it another way, had been "brought up properly" We knew that sort of thing was wrong in the dark ages of the 70s, not just now.
The commissioner of the metropolitan police was interviewed on the TV last week about an iniquitous practise that had been uncovered in the Met: the discouraging of women from making complaints of rape, in order to massage the figures favourably for the force. Some women were even told they would themselves be prosecuted for perjury if they insisted on taking their cases forward.
The commish deprecated the practises, as well he might, but added that such things were part of the past, when a different culture was operating- yet these events were happening just five years ago. Is he kidding us? Is he saying that 2008 can now be viewed as part of a kind of less enlightened, medieval culture from which we have now advanced immeasurably?
Last week we also saw a similar argument deployed to explain the alleged actions of Lord Rennard- The "Hey man! That was the past!" justification was dusted off and presented to the public yet again
I find that argument difficult to swallow when it refers to 40 years ago. When it comes to 5 years ago it becomes ridiculous- and dangerous.
"But Marge, that was 20 minutes ago! Stop living in the past, Marge!"
In the white heat of all the revelations about Jimmy Savile, many people came forward to say that a lot of the cigar smoking one's behaviour might have been considered to be more or less normal for its time. I am 62 years old, which places me as a young adult during the "golden age" of Savile's abuses of young girls- the 70s. And sure, things were different in those days. There was more innuendo, and pinching and groping too, but not by me, or by the vast majority of the people I asociated with back then- young men who had been educated to respect women as different, but equal human beings, or to put it another way, had been "brought up properly" We knew that sort of thing was wrong in the dark ages of the 70s, not just now.
The commissioner of the metropolitan police was interviewed on the TV last week about an iniquitous practise that had been uncovered in the Met: the discouraging of women from making complaints of rape, in order to massage the figures favourably for the force. Some women were even told they would themselves be prosecuted for perjury if they insisted on taking their cases forward.
The commish deprecated the practises, as well he might, but added that such things were part of the past, when a different culture was operating- yet these events were happening just five years ago. Is he kidding us? Is he saying that 2008 can now be viewed as part of a kind of less enlightened, medieval culture from which we have now advanced immeasurably?
Last week we also saw a similar argument deployed to explain the alleged actions of Lord Rennard- The "Hey man! That was the past!" justification was dusted off and presented to the public yet again
I find that argument difficult to swallow when it refers to 40 years ago. When it comes to 5 years ago it becomes ridiculous- and dangerous.
Friday, 1 March 2013
Blog 600! February 2013 book and film review
Welcome to my 600th blog- a sort of milestone if you will . When I get to 1000, let's have a party! By my calculations it should be after the Rio Olympics have come and gone, so don't hold your breath... In the meantime, please find below my 39th cultural overview of the previous month. Remember the entries are for books and films I have encountered for the first time.
BOOKS
THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. An aristocratic gentleman is found guilty of unspecified political crimes and sent to a prison in deepest Siberia. There he comes across some interesting characters... Dostoyevsky was himself imprisoned for printing "seditious" pamphlets, so the book conveys a vivid and sometimes horrific authenticity. The characters he is forced to rub shoulders with are described with such subtlety and insight this is rightly regarded as one the great man's finest works. For me though, his descriptions of the way dumb animals are treated in the gulag are the most beautiful: the prison horse, a goat, cats and an occasional dog, even an injured eagle who is cared for with infinite sensitivity by the inmates before it finally flies away without a backward glance at his protectors... An absolutely wonderful book.
A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME, by Anthony Powell.: VOLUME 1- A QUESTION OF UPBRINGING. A young man's passage through the slings and arrows of life in English society. I first came across this epic study (it is in 12volumes) of life and manners in upper-crust Britain between 1919 and 1970 as a radio adaptation in the late 1970s. That was so good I felt it obviated any need to read the book for myself, but nearly 40 years later I found I wanted to explore first-hand Powell's Proust-like semi-fictional account of his own life. To be fair, it isn't quite Proust (what is?) but his meticulous, almost dreamy style is addictive, at least for this reader.
ADTTMOT, by Anthony Powell- VOLUME 2: A BUYER'S MARKET. Having left school, our hero goes to the "University" (for some reason he doesn't reveal which one, though presumably it's either Oxon or Cantab) and then enters the world of work in a small publishing house. But he still can't shake off his schoolboy acquaintance, the inescapable Widmerpool.. Widmerpool, gauche and sometimes even bizarre, is rapidly turning into one of the great comic characters of British fiction, perhaps comparable to Apthorpe, that strange creation of Evelyn Waugh's who lights up his Sword of Honour trilogy. I'm reaching the point where, like being addicted to a TV soap, I can't wait to see what happens next ...
FILMS
ZEMLYA (Earth) (1930) D- Alexander Dovschenko. An everyday story of countryfolk on the Russian Steppe in the time of the great Soviet collectivisation of farms. Most are committed to the plan, but a few bad eggs are implacably opposed to change... One of the great triumphs of the socialist realist school of film making, and regarded by many as one of the greatest silent films ever made. Despite its intensely human touch, it was admired by Stalin, which explains why the film survives to the this day.The whole thing comes over like a Shlolokov novel come to life, and some of the scenes, for instance when the hero is stalked by an evil revisionist, are unforgettable.
THE MISSOURI BREAKS (1976) D- Arthur Penn. A cattle rancher is being targeted by rustlers (led by Jack Nicholson) and hires Marlon Brando (perhaps the last film in which he actually looked good) to track them down and kill them. You'd expect a superior product from a team as good as this, and despite (or even because of?) Brando's highly idiosyncratic performance, we are not disappointed.
AVENGERS ASSEMBLE (2012) D- Joss Whedon. A band of superheros band together to defeat the forces of darkness. Or something like that. Really I stopped caring after
about ten minutes when I realised that what this film is about is getting all the fantasy characters we have seen in movies over the past few years and squeezing them together in a vehicle the producers must have believed to be irresistible to the movie-going public. You can imagine the focus-group people posing the question: "OK, if we put all the superheros together in one movie, how would that be?" and finding a surprising number of responders going "Yeah! That sounds good" The rest is nonsense. The first of these "Avengers" movies (forget Steed and Mrs Peel; they won't help you here|) was apparently a wow at the box office, so a sequel was inevitable. But even with the estimable Joss Whedon at the helm, and special effects to beat the band, this remains a load of inconsequential crap. Give me a break!
BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD (2012) D- Benh Zeitlin. A six year old girl living in the impoverished Mississippi Bayous learns about the threat to her home posed by global warming. Then Hurricane Katrina arrives, and all her primeval fears are confirmed... Five year old Quenzhani Wallis had to lie about her age to get an audition for her part, but she still managed to beat off 4000 other candidates. The decision to cast her was inspired however: it is one of the greatest acting performances by a child I have ever seen, although the film itself lacks coherence and suffers from poor editing.
THE HAIRDRESSER'S HUSBAND (France) (1990) D- Patrice Leconte. A somewhat eccentric young man falls hopelessly in love with a hairdresser. Luckily for him she does likewise... Much heralded at the time (it won the Oscar for best foreign language movie), but I'm afraid I found it contained much of the kind of self indulgent French style which I find so annoying. I just wanted to slap the main protagonist (Jean Rochefort) and tell him to get a life.
LIGHTS IN THE DUST (Finland) (2006) D- Aki Kaurismaki. An unassuming security guard is befriended by a glamorous female, but it's a sham. Really she is part of a gang planning a jewel heist. A thoughtful and extremely skillful portrayal of life at ground level in a bleak and unforgiving Helsinki. Highly watchable.
A CAT IN PARIS (France) (20010) D- Jean-Loup Felicioli and Alain Gagnol. A young girl's cat likes to go out at night. She determines to find out where he goes, and discovers he is in league with a cat- burglar. But there are much worse characters to be found on the dark alleys of Paris than him...With art direction making the characters seem as if they were drawn by Modigliani or Matisse, and a knowing feel that is unusual for a children's film, I found this absorbing and even gripping at times. Your kid will like this, and you too, I suspect.
OFFICE SPACE (1999) D- Mike Judge. A young man stuck in a boring office job works out a way to add a few zeros to his pay check. Meanwhile he falls for a waitress (Jennifer Aniston- who wouldn't?). Mike Judge had already established himself with animations like Beavis and Butthead and King of the Hill and his first foray into proper features is quite worthy, without being exceptional in any way.
LA VIE EN ROSE (Fr) (2007) D- Olivier Dehan. On the streets of fin de siecle Paris, a young girl comes to realise that her voice may be her fortune... This now justifiably famous and much celebrated biopic of Edith Piaf is indeed a stunningly good piece of movie making. Marion Cotillard made history when she secured the Oscar for best performance by a woman- the first time it had ever been awarded to an actress speaking a language other than English. It is a decision hard to challenge, in view of the depth and power of her portrayal of the little Sparrow.
TEETH (2007) W-D- Mitchell Lichtenstein. A pretty young girl pledges her virginity to the "cause of purity", but there are many young lads willing to help her break her pledge. They'd better look out though: those teeth are sharp... An unconsidered masterpiece, with an excellent performance from the dentate one (Jess Weixler). I have Mark Kermode to thank for alerting me to this little shocker which almost got under the radar. Now you can catch it too. Do so, if you like an unusaul and well made horror flick.
BOOKS
THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. An aristocratic gentleman is found guilty of unspecified political crimes and sent to a prison in deepest Siberia. There he comes across some interesting characters... Dostoyevsky was himself imprisoned for printing "seditious" pamphlets, so the book conveys a vivid and sometimes horrific authenticity. The characters he is forced to rub shoulders with are described with such subtlety and insight this is rightly regarded as one the great man's finest works. For me though, his descriptions of the way dumb animals are treated in the gulag are the most beautiful: the prison horse, a goat, cats and an occasional dog, even an injured eagle who is cared for with infinite sensitivity by the inmates before it finally flies away without a backward glance at his protectors... An absolutely wonderful book.
A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME, by Anthony Powell.: VOLUME 1- A QUESTION OF UPBRINGING. A young man's passage through the slings and arrows of life in English society. I first came across this epic study (it is in 12volumes) of life and manners in upper-crust Britain between 1919 and 1970 as a radio adaptation in the late 1970s. That was so good I felt it obviated any need to read the book for myself, but nearly 40 years later I found I wanted to explore first-hand Powell's Proust-like semi-fictional account of his own life. To be fair, it isn't quite Proust (what is?) but his meticulous, almost dreamy style is addictive, at least for this reader.
ADTTMOT, by Anthony Powell- VOLUME 2: A BUYER'S MARKET. Having left school, our hero goes to the "University" (for some reason he doesn't reveal which one, though presumably it's either Oxon or Cantab) and then enters the world of work in a small publishing house. But he still can't shake off his schoolboy acquaintance, the inescapable Widmerpool.. Widmerpool, gauche and sometimes even bizarre, is rapidly turning into one of the great comic characters of British fiction, perhaps comparable to Apthorpe, that strange creation of Evelyn Waugh's who lights up his Sword of Honour trilogy. I'm reaching the point where, like being addicted to a TV soap, I can't wait to see what happens next ...
FILMS
ZEMLYA (Earth) (1930) D- Alexander Dovschenko. An everyday story of countryfolk on the Russian Steppe in the time of the great Soviet collectivisation of farms. Most are committed to the plan, but a few bad eggs are implacably opposed to change... One of the great triumphs of the socialist realist school of film making, and regarded by many as one of the greatest silent films ever made. Despite its intensely human touch, it was admired by Stalin, which explains why the film survives to the this day.The whole thing comes over like a Shlolokov novel come to life, and some of the scenes, for instance when the hero is stalked by an evil revisionist, are unforgettable.
THE MISSOURI BREAKS (1976) D- Arthur Penn. A cattle rancher is being targeted by rustlers (led by Jack Nicholson) and hires Marlon Brando (perhaps the last film in which he actually looked good) to track them down and kill them. You'd expect a superior product from a team as good as this, and despite (or even because of?) Brando's highly idiosyncratic performance, we are not disappointed.
AVENGERS ASSEMBLE (2012) D- Joss Whedon. A band of superheros band together to defeat the forces of darkness. Or something like that. Really I stopped caring after
about ten minutes when I realised that what this film is about is getting all the fantasy characters we have seen in movies over the past few years and squeezing them together in a vehicle the producers must have believed to be irresistible to the movie-going public. You can imagine the focus-group people posing the question: "OK, if we put all the superheros together in one movie, how would that be?" and finding a surprising number of responders going "Yeah! That sounds good" The rest is nonsense. The first of these "Avengers" movies (forget Steed and Mrs Peel; they won't help you here|) was apparently a wow at the box office, so a sequel was inevitable. But even with the estimable Joss Whedon at the helm, and special effects to beat the band, this remains a load of inconsequential crap. Give me a break!
BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD (2012) D- Benh Zeitlin. A six year old girl living in the impoverished Mississippi Bayous learns about the threat to her home posed by global warming. Then Hurricane Katrina arrives, and all her primeval fears are confirmed... Five year old Quenzhani Wallis had to lie about her age to get an audition for her part, but she still managed to beat off 4000 other candidates. The decision to cast her was inspired however: it is one of the greatest acting performances by a child I have ever seen, although the film itself lacks coherence and suffers from poor editing.
THE HAIRDRESSER'S HUSBAND (France) (1990) D- Patrice Leconte. A somewhat eccentric young man falls hopelessly in love with a hairdresser. Luckily for him she does likewise... Much heralded at the time (it won the Oscar for best foreign language movie), but I'm afraid I found it contained much of the kind of self indulgent French style which I find so annoying. I just wanted to slap the main protagonist (Jean Rochefort) and tell him to get a life.
LIGHTS IN THE DUST (Finland) (2006) D- Aki Kaurismaki. An unassuming security guard is befriended by a glamorous female, but it's a sham. Really she is part of a gang planning a jewel heist. A thoughtful and extremely skillful portrayal of life at ground level in a bleak and unforgiving Helsinki. Highly watchable.
A CAT IN PARIS (France) (20010) D- Jean-Loup Felicioli and Alain Gagnol. A young girl's cat likes to go out at night. She determines to find out where he goes, and discovers he is in league with a cat- burglar. But there are much worse characters to be found on the dark alleys of Paris than him...With art direction making the characters seem as if they were drawn by Modigliani or Matisse, and a knowing feel that is unusual for a children's film, I found this absorbing and even gripping at times. Your kid will like this, and you too, I suspect.
OFFICE SPACE (1999) D- Mike Judge. A young man stuck in a boring office job works out a way to add a few zeros to his pay check. Meanwhile he falls for a waitress (Jennifer Aniston- who wouldn't?). Mike Judge had already established himself with animations like Beavis and Butthead and King of the Hill and his first foray into proper features is quite worthy, without being exceptional in any way.
LA VIE EN ROSE (Fr) (2007) D- Olivier Dehan. On the streets of fin de siecle Paris, a young girl comes to realise that her voice may be her fortune... This now justifiably famous and much celebrated biopic of Edith Piaf is indeed a stunningly good piece of movie making. Marion Cotillard made history when she secured the Oscar for best performance by a woman- the first time it had ever been awarded to an actress speaking a language other than English. It is a decision hard to challenge, in view of the depth and power of her portrayal of the little Sparrow.
TEETH (2007) W-D- Mitchell Lichtenstein. A pretty young girl pledges her virginity to the "cause of purity", but there are many young lads willing to help her break her pledge. They'd better look out though: those teeth are sharp... An unconsidered masterpiece, with an excellent performance from the dentate one (Jess Weixler). I have Mark Kermode to thank for alerting me to this little shocker which almost got under the radar. Now you can catch it too. Do so, if you like an unusaul and well made horror flick.
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