Book and film review June 2017

Welcome to this month's media blog. I apologise for my meagre output this month. What with helping my legal team prepare my defence against false allegations which could land me in prison for the rest of my life if they are believed by a jury, I have been a little preoccupied.
               I could have blogged about the tragedy at Grenfell Tower, the austerity culture which directly led to it, and the shameful response of the local council who have behaved like little bullies hiding in the broom cupboard as soon as they are called to account for their actions, or lack of them.
               I could have blogged about the cynical manner in which power is manipulated in government following the call for a strong and stable leadership which was in the event replaced by a weak and unstable leadership.
               I have also been writing an account of the events of the previous twelve months, which, if good enough, I may try to get published one day.

But I have not stopped reading and watching movies, hence the following (please note the review will be split into 2 parts due to computer issues)

BOOKS

OBLOMOV, by Ivan Goncharov
A member of the Russian landed gentry in the early 19th century, Oblomov lives far from his estate in a rented flat in St Petersburg. He likes the regular cheque that arrives from there which funds his indolent lifestyle, and worries when the amount of the cheque falls each quarter. He should probably go there and kick a few behinds, but he can't summon the energy. In fact he can't summon the energy to do... anything at all. He lies on his sofa, barely bothers changing his clothes from week to week and lives in squalor which should be addressed by his manservant, but he has been infected by his master's sloth and does as little as possible himself.
            What is wrong with Oblomov? Perhaps today he would be diagnosed with agoraphobia and social anxiety syndrome. Certainly there is something seriously wrong. Even when a charming and pretty young lady seems to take an unaccountable shine to him, he is unable to conduct a normal, healthy relationship with her and eventually drives her away.
             In Oblomov Goncharov has created a unique and highly memorable character in Russian fiction. Meant to typify an archetype of minor Russian aristocrat perhaps prevalent at that time, Goncharov explains what was wrong with the class system in those days, and how it was inevitable it would crumble and die. A neglected classic, highly recommended.

HUNGER, by Kurt Hamson
In the Christiania (Oslo) of the 1890s, a young writer is starving in his garret, literally. If he can write a piece for the local paper he will be paid enough to keep the wolf from the door for a few days: trouble is, he's so hungry he can barely put pen to paper. He's in a kind of vicious circle, and there seems no way to snap out of it. Even when he gets a bit of money he gives it away to someone even poorer than himself, and when by an act of generosity he is given some food he eats it too eagerly and vomits the whole lot back up.
            Why doesn't he leave the city, get an ordinary job, labouring or something, do anything really to avoid starving to death? Because this is his great project: write something outstanding, or die in the attempt.
            Kurt Hamson won the Nobel prize for literature for his wonderful books, and this is his most famous: an extraordinary account of a man in extremis, an intelligent, sophisticated thinker who has decided on a course of action which may end his life, though even that is less important than his strange obsession with writing while on the edge of starvation. Fantastic.

BOYS IN ZINC, by Svetlana Alexievich
Being a series of interviews with men and women who have fought in Russia's war in Afghanistan and their loved ones who wait for them- sometimes in vain. Why is it called Boys in Zinc? Because that's what the coffins are made of, stupid.
            What this remarkable collection of interviews illustrates is that wars are the same the world over and since time immemorial. Young, impressionable lads (and not a few women, this being a Russian war) believe the hype about fighting for the honor of the Motherland and go out to a desert hell where the only thing waiting for them is a population who resent their presence and do everything they can to murder them. The one's who aren't shot through the head or blown to bits come home minus limbs, suffering from post traumatic stress disorder which will never be treated or even acknowledged.

Please see next blog for the conclusion of this review.