Shark

When I was about half way through Will Self's latest novel Shark, back in November, I went down to Bristol to see him at one of those reading/signing/promotional evenings authors do. He talked about some of the ideas behind the novel and the process of writing it, and read a a passage from early on in the book. I say read, it was really performed, as he gave each character a unique voice and brought their words to life.

The evening completely changed the way I was reading the book in a wonderful way: I started to read all the characters in the accents and speech habits their author had given them and I began to notice details that I hadn't been picking up on before, such as the obscure historic pop-cultural references that litter one of the main character's speech.

I found I enjoyed Shark a little more than Umbrella, and I think this was partly a result of hearing the characters 'speak', and understanding how and why their author created them, and so relating to them in a way you are not always able to as a reader. I also enjoyed the variety in the lives of the characters in the novel, in particular Jeannie, later called Genie, a drug addict who's childhood is explored and whose 'Mumsie' turns out to be a regular at the Plantation Club, which Self readers will know well!

Going from Umbrella straight onto Shark also meant I was tuned into the stream-of-consciousness writing style from the off, and once you get used to it it becomes almost natural and stops getting in the way of your following the characters stories develop. Apparently the next novel will be the final part of a trilogy, so I'm looking forward to what that will bring!

Umbrella

If you've been dipping into this blog for some time, you might be wondering why this has been so long coming. Ever since I went to buy my copy of Umbrella by Will Self, on my 10 year anniversary of meeting him at a signing for Dorian, it has been sitting on bookshelf with all my other Will Selfs (the 'Will Self shelf'), nestled between Haruki Murakami and Stephen Fry, quietly waiting almost two years to be read.

You see, I was waiting for the right time to read Umbrella. A quiet period, with manageable time for uninterrupted reading and few plans, and perhaps following on from a light easy read to ready my mind. Only this never came. And then a few weeks ago, Shark was released and there I was with Umbrella unread on the shelf. So I picked it up one day and took it on a work trip to the north. I opened it at 6.40am, 3 minutes into a 2 hour train journey. Unfortunately, 5 minutes after that I was fast asleep, so it wasn't actually until the return journey that I started it properly.

Numerous reviews had warned about it being difficult to read. And it certainly is a challenge. You have to pay attention. There are no chapters, few paragraphs, and the time, place and point of view are all continually shifting, unexpectedly, sometimes in the middle of a sentence. But if you focus, it isn't that hard to follow (even if you sometimes might have to jump back and read a page again to work out how you got from a modern day London bus ride to the trenches of the First World War).

The story is far from being buried by the style. On the contrary, in many respects I found the style enhanced your understanding of how the separate narratives link and intertwine, developing as layers together around the central themes. The novel's free-flowing stream-of-consciousness binds the characters and their lives together in a powerful, almost emotional way which I cannot imagine a more conventional style achieving. 

The subject of the novel is a fascinating one, based upon the real life trials Dr Oliver Sacks carried out on patients with encephalitis lethargica in the 1960s, except here of course it is Dr Zachary Busner once more in the starring role. I think that if you are willing to put the effort in, this is a far more accessible novel than might be immediately apparent: an enormously rewarding and enjoyable challenge for anyone looking to engage in a different type of reading. 

Who will help worst-case-scenario me?

I was party to one of those slightly frustrating political discussions recently, the topic of which was based around what issues we care about in society, and how it influences our political stance.

Two young (early 20s), white males, recently out of uni and beginning their careers in law defended the view that they did not care about the impact of further welfare cuts and caps proposed at the latest Tory conference, and moreover that they didn't need to care, because it would never affect them.

The two in the group most vehemently opposed to this viewpoint, including myself, were older females (both in our 30s), who over the years have amassed experiences of unemployment, redundancy, low pay and health issues before reaching a similar situation to our friends above.

I was thinking afterwards about all the things that shape our political views, and in quite a timely way, this article appeared, which although focuses on UKIP has some interesting points about how gender influences the way we vote:

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/oct/09/ukip-women-policies-voters-parties-family-friendly

If you are interested in more on UKIP's attitude to women, the Telegraph have published several good articles on the topic over the past couple of years - google UKIP sexism and the like.

But back to my discussion: there was an obvious gender divide there, but was that the root of our differences? Was my view shaped by my being a female? Although women, none of our experiences were uniquely female. But as females are we more empathetic? I thought a great deal about why I care about the issues I care about, and I realised that in some ways, I am just as selfish as my male friends. I care not only about issues that do, but also that might affect me. I vote for policies that may not best support me now, but will best provide support when I most need it, for the rock-bottom me. The worst-case scenario me.

The worst-case scenario me is me without work, with exacerbated mental health issues, a me who is perhaps a single mother to a child who will not be afforded the best opportunities as a result of its situation, perhaps even disabilities. In need of support from welfare and from public services. It sounds extreme. But it is not completely unlikely.

To firmly believe it can't happen to you is either foolish or arrogant, or both.

Comedy misogyny

There was quite a good programme on TV recently presented by Kirsty Wark called Blurred Lines, about how sexism and misogyny is alive and well and possibly having a bit of a resurgence though social media etc (see: Mary Beard; Caroline Criado-Perez etc etc).

 The programme featured a bit about misogyny in comedy (last year at the Edinburgh Fringe was apparently dubbed the 'year of the rape joke') and featured amongst other things an interview with a comedian called Brendon Burns. He apparently features a lot of sexist jokes in his act and made the point that (I'm paraphrasing but this is the gist) nothing and no one, no group of people, should be off limits in comedy, women aren't a 'holy cow' he said.

 I completely agree with this. I do honestly think absolutely anything has potential to be funny if approached the right way, and nothing should be off limits. Women, rape, the lot. (I've never actually heard a funny rape joke but i will keep a beady out). There should be no 'holy cow'. I have enjoyed hours of stand-up which explores, in an intelligent and original way, some of the areas of life which people are often afraid to talk about for fear of causing upset (see case in point: Stewart Lee and his hallucinatory tales of meeting Jesus...)

 So why did i find the clips of Burns' sexist stand up routine so distasteful? Having agreed with his defence of his work, I got confused and briefly thought I was going to have to reassess my whole life. But then I realised, it wasn't that I found it offensive (I am almost impossible to offend through normal channels of common decency -believe me i've done tests - probably why I can find anything funny), it's just that his particular approach to women was lazy, unoriginal, and perpetrated the kind of boring stereotypes we have been hearing about for decades. It just wasn't very funny. It was like hearing jokes about Welsh people and sheep - you might snigger the first time, but after the 8654756886th you'll probably just sigh deeply and contemplate gnawing your own arm off.

 Maybe I don't dislike sexist jokes. But I definitely don't like bad comedy!

Move?

I am pondering moving this blog to Wordpress.... I do love blogspot and I've been using it for years, but Mark and I have been running Butterflies & Bread over on Wordpress for a few months and I am enjoying that platform rather more than this at the moment. Apparently I can import all the content over so I will get investigating, watch this space!

Melrosiad - Some Hope

Back with a newly cleaned up Patrick Melrose this week. Having left behind his troubled 20s, Patrick and I are now pretty much the same age. I think we would get on.

"As far as I know she's driving a consignment of ten thousand syringes to Poland. People say it's marvellous of her, but I still think that charity begins at home. She could have saved herself the journey by bringing them round to my flat," said Patrick.

"I thought you'd put all that behind you," said Nicholas.

"Behind me, in front of me. It's hard to tell, here in the Grey Zone.

"That's a rather melodramatic way to talk at thirty,"

"Well, you see," sighed Patrick, "I've given up everything, but taken nothing up instead."

NW

NW by Zadie Smith

Melrosiad

Sneaky lunch-break trip to Waterstones = quality time with Patrick Melrose (now all grown up and drug-addicted)!