Didactic, Moi?!

and the reason is that this morning on BBC World Service I learned that David Fanshaw died recently at the age of 68….

It may not have been my favourite piece to perform, but African Sanctus was memorable for the fact that the composer, Mr Fanshaw, personally supervised our performance at the dress rehearsal and when he conducted and at the actual performance when he controlled the mixing desk.

He may have been an outspoken eccentric, I may not have loved the music he made, but even then he sang well enough and carried the piece of music with such enthusiasm it was irresistable.  He even told us of his student days in the area when he would hitch lifts to the coast.  And his wife was in charge of CD sales and many years his junior, so I really feel for her surviving him…

Sad day indeed - they played “Lord’s Prayer” from the Sanctus dedicated to the composer and it was a lovely memory with which to pray for him… Amen

I have filed this post in the category of Poetry, though whether the verse below deserves that accolade is a little debatable.

It’s the entire lyrics to “Bicycle Built For Two (Daisy Daisy)” written by Harry Dacre (Copyright Unknown) and I remember it fondly from the movie “2001: A Space Odyssey” when HAL is being unplugged it seems to be one of his last memories to go, which is sad but necessary.

Something not at all sad is that by some miraculous turn of luck I yesterday became the proud owner of a tandem!
Pictures posted above also, I couldn’t resist!

Who knows, perhaps I need a new category to add to the blog now, cycling?  But for the time being I shall content myself with this posting and perhaps with a future one with a literary theme of cycling.  I have read “ The Third Policeman” by Flan O’Brien (which definitely has a cult following) and the Autobiography of Henry Miller, both of which feature bicycles prominently (though I cannot find the Millar work on Wikipedia and have lost the volume, was it called “New York Tales”? Be good to hear if anyone knows and cares to comment).  I wonder what other literary works I can find with bicycles as a theme or plot device or even, dare I say it, character?  In the modern age with scroogle at our fingertips it is entirely possible I suspect for me to contemplate many months of reading books exclusively centered around bicycles and cycling!

There is a flower
Within my heart,
Daisy, Daisy!
Planted one day
By a glancing dart,
Planted by Daisy Bell!
Whether she loves me
Or loves me not,
Sometimes it’s hard to tell;
Yet I am longing to share the lot -
Of beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I’m half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won’t be a stylish marriage,
I can’t afford a carriage
But you’ll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle made for two.

We will go ‘tandem’
As man and wife,
Daisy, Daisy!
‘Peddling’ away
Down the road of life,
I and my Daisy Bell!
When the road’s dark
We can both despise
P’licemen and ‘lamps’ as well;
There are ‘bright lights”
In the dazzling eyes
Of beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I’m half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won’t be a stylish marriage,
I can’t afford a carriage
But you’ll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle made for two.

I will stand by you
In ‘wheel’ or woe,
Daisy, Daisy!
You’ll be the bell(e)
Which I’ll ring you know!
Sweet little Daisy Bell!
You’ll take the ‘lead’
In each ‘trip’ we take,
Then if I don’t do well,
I will permit you to
Use the brake,
My beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I’m half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won’t be a stylish marriage,
I can’t afford a carriage
But you’ll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle made for two.

I am not sure if these are really funny, particularly as the first is something of an “in” joke, but being aware of the absence of any June posts and being the last day of July I wanted to make another.  Also I wanted to broaden from the literary theme of the blog a little and am even thinking maybe there should be a humourous category, except that it makes me want to add a “serious” one to balance things out!

I well remember this post from the past (2008 in fact, which amazes me when it feels really quite recent) where I made some longer jokes and wondered which would inform me best if someone were likely to be spiritually along similar lines to myself.  I have now come up with one of my own - if you can call it a joke when it is a bit self-referential

Anyway - the jokes, if they can be called that:-

q. How many Quakers does it take to change a lightbulb?

a1. They’re very discerning, and all have to stand in the light…. but any one can do it

a2. “God Knows!”

 

And I am wondering at this point how to refine the joke with a play on light and god (small G).  If you have any ideas to improve on this then please comment, by all means (And what the hey, add your own “lightbulb joke” if you wish).

You’ll have to pardon the poor pun of the blog title, but I am well aware it’s been a while since I last posted.  However I have recently read The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver recent winner of the Orange Prize.  I learned a few things from it and one was what a “Lacuna” is.  I had mistakenly thought it was some special accent for the Spanish language, but no, turns out it is a gap or missing part in a body of work, or a hollow space by origin and in secondary meaning of some anatomical bone.  I also learned a good deal about Trotsky’s exile from Russia and the events leading up to his demise.  This becomes highly relevant in the light of later developments in this novel, when the infamous period of McCarthyism is detailed.  Although this is fascinating I did not find this work as engaging as “ The Poisonwood Bible” which I remember as quite the page turner and more dramatic.  I wonder if anyopne could have guessed the recent revelations in the media about the fact that apparently McArthy was somehow RIGHT about the level of Russian espionage though?

I did not mean to say the Lacuna is undramatic, but perhaps characters are dwelt on a litle more and there is definitely something extremely introspective about the protagonist.  I cannot help feeling this is reflected in the character of the book as a whole, which is highly introverted and turns in upon itself as it progresses and the second narrator is revealed.  The whole American section of the work (broadly speaking the second half) made me pine for the earlier, “Mexican” chapters.  I was quite taken by the portrayal of a “quiet” homosexual who even seems to only gradually acknowledge his own sexuality, although it is made quite clear to us as it emerges.  I missed his mother following her early demise and his father was never very present either in his life nor in this novel.  Instead our hero turns to diaries and to writing for his salvation - yet I never found the portrayal of this convincing nor was I convined that his writing actually carried any literary merit.

I should dearly like to know if Ms Kingsolvers attitude and possesiveness and, dare I say it, neuriotic attitudes towards manuscripts is the model on which she drew for the fictional character.

This is not the only work I read during my abstinence from the blog though, and I do feel I enjoyed a much shorter work I read for the library reading group a good deal more.  Haruki Murakami’s “After Dark” was a very gripping account of some six hours from midnight until daybreak in Japan.  During this time a mysteriously narcoleptioc girls sleeps and there are fictional scenes involving a Television which can be quite distrubing (at least to me) if one engages with them fully.  But this is just a sub-plot and the main action revolves around a student jazz player and the “sleeping beauty’s” sister.  They are thrown together in the plot by seeming chance when he finds a late night diner full and joins her at a table.  Neither had any plans to sleep and their crossing of paths is the main plot sequence.  He offers her services to translate for a victim of a brutal attack in a “love hotel” and this draws her in to a strange sequence where we see a very disturbed man portrayed also and hints of gangland violence which actually provide a macarbre humour with a mobile phone at some point.

It is definitely Harukami  near his best, reminiscent of some of his short stories - though this definitely qualifies as a novel, albeit a short one.  Brevity is never a problem with this author though as he draws together plot lines and enigmas and then leaves a wonderfully enigmatic and open ending to the work.

I also learned belatedly that Harukami came quite late in life to writing and before that ran a jazz bar.  There is a scene that haunted me where they enter a jazz bar around one or two in the morning and the proprietor has a few lines , one about records (vinyl) and not rushing because the night time has a special quality of time and demands that you do things at a different pace.  I could not help wondering how much the author was drawing on his own experience running a bar and if the character was at all based upon himself.

Tghe third book I read entirely was “ White Tiger” and I feel this post is long enough so may blog about that in my next entry, hopefully without too much of a gap this time!

This book by Paul Torday was the choice of reading group for May.  As I mentioned in my last post it was also one of the three books I took with me on holiday last week and in fact the only of the three which I finished.  There was a definite reason for this, which is that I not only took my library paperback, but also a five CD audio book of the same volume (unabridged).

I would definitely now say that having the book read to me did not detract from the reading, in fact in places it added something. On occasion I switched between reading the book on paper and listening to it and this felt quite seamless.  I had wondered if it would bother me to hear the lines of dialogue spoken rather than imagining the voices of the characters, but I had no problem with this.  There is a point where a radio interview is held, and having the voice of Andrew Marr as a radio four presenter definitely felt like a bonus.  I know audio books are expensive, but I was lucky because a friend already had this so I did not have to buy a copy.  It made the drive pass a lot more pleasantly and I would highly recommend it to anyone.

As for the actual book, well I would recommend it as a decent holiday read, but it is not great literature.  That does not mean the story is without it’s merits though, I loved the observations on Arab culture although perhaps they were a little stereotypical.  More interesting was the exploration of politics and civil service.  This was very believable to me and quite entertaining.  The other entertainment was slightly unsavoury, in the form of an exemplary failing marriage which was exploited a little for comic effect I feel.

Lastly, and perhaps unsurprisingly, there is a little for the keen fisherman here, although how authentic it is I cannot say.  It certainly made me imagine I could enjoy donning waders and fishing a stream in Scotland some day, but I think I shall save that for a future holiday!

I think there really should be a post on my blog that discusses Holiday reading and books.  In fact there ought to be one whenever I take a holiday.  The last was probably for going to Wales, but this was only a weekend and Dylan Thomas remained untouched!

This time it is a week and it is in Northumbria.  Reading seems a more likely proposition.  My Ereader is loaded with “White Tiger” which is this months choice for the Brixton urban bookgroup.  And I have “Salmon Fishing in the Yemen”  on load from my library which is the choice of the reading group there this month.  I also have the unabridged audio book of the same work for the car journey, which I am almost certain we shall manage to fit in since the drive is over six hours long, from London to Northumbria.

That gives the context, and I shall be especially interested to compare my experience of the three media forms, audio, Ereader, and paper.  I shall either make additional posts or edit and expand this one to give an update, assuming I am online whilst on holiday.  Should I be offline the posts will appear on my return, in June!

So last weekend we went to see “Polar Bear” by Mark Haddon and I was really looking forward to it.  I had been quite disappointed to hear initially that we could not get seats, which also surprised me because I had it on good authority that the reviews were quite mixed.  So all the more exciting to be going and even taking a friend along and dinner to follow after the matinee.  Sadly our friend’s partner was called away to Mexico City, and I think he missed out on something he may very well have enjoyed a great deal.

There is no interval and the performance is an hour and a half, but after seeing it I can quite see how no break is a necessary part to the entire piece.  The narrative is not chronological and as a result a break could add to any confusion.  I loved the set and the way it worked, it was not quite “in the round” but it had that feeling to it.  No one actor “upstaged” any other, though Celia Imrie’s performance was masterful, if you can use that word in the context.  I was embarrassed on entering the foyer to get her name wrong and think it was Imelda Staunton.

If I had to single any one actor as impressing me it would actually be the female lead though.  She played the part of Kelly who as it turns out is the manic depressive in the play.  When the play starts she is in fact dead, or at least we are led to believe so. As the narrative moves along and back and forth in time I personally began to wonder if there was some ambiguity on that score, if in fact her husband had become deranged and she was actually in Oslo and not the body in the cellar.

Our friend noticed and we all agreed that since we realise bipolar disorder is a big part of the play then we all thought the husband was the person affected by it (and of course he was, but only indirectly).  It is not until the change in scene that it becomes apparent Kelly is the primary focus for the bipolar, though there is the shadow of her father and his depressive suicide hanging over the whole play menacingly.

Later we have a Jesus figure (several perhaps!), and I especially loved the scene where he said true love is when the person you love does not know your name and went on to itemise the stages of decomposition of a corpse and the associated “symptoms”. This was interesting, the husband is a philosophy professor and I felt we were being played with for Mr Haddon to display a knowledge of the subject on a par with mine (IE very amateur!).  Mark Haddon always manages to irritate me at some level, and in this play it was the mention of a coach tour through the philosophers of the ages and the “stopping at Kierkegaard for someone to be sick” which I thought was a cheap laugh (I have a LOT of respect for the Dane).

On leaving the theatre none of us could understand the poor reviews - apparently it was slated by quite a few critics - but since we believed there were good reviews too we settled on the play having “bipolar reviews”!  Over dinner I asked everyone what they thought they would remember from the play (we had all enjoyed it thoroughly).  For me ultimately it is the subject of suicide, mental disorder, family, and the ensuing trauma from the act and ripples down the generations that shall be my abiding interest and memory.