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Monday 20 October 2014

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. 

Saturday 11 October 2014

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.