A South African friend of mine who has lived in the UK for over a decade still complains about the lack of community in Britain and how that British people, even when neighbours, simply ignore each other. I have lived in lots of different places in the past couple of decades from London to a rural Warwickshire village and many towns in southern England and some in the Midlands, somewhere in between in scale. Aside from when I lived in Poplar in East London and that was in the 1990s, I have found her experience to be the same for me. When people say 'they kept to themselves', in fact that goes for everyone in the street even the person the newspaper, radio or television journalist is talking to. British people may gawp at their neighbours - I have had people literally standing in their front gardens staring at me but not acknowledging my greeting, most recently in the house I moved into this September, but they will not talk to them apart from in two exceptional cases.
This is in contrast to some other countries. Yes, there is a fantasy of US suburbia where everyone talks. I am sure my South African friend would find the community of her youth has now faded. I have encountered it a bit in Belgium. The pull by global society is always to be suspicious of your neighbour and have nothing to say to them. The concerns about immigrants and terrorists, very often linked in people's minds, simply exacerbates this situation. However, in some parts of some other countries, a basic level of communication has to be eroded. In Britain, suspicion and silence come as the norm and it is only exceptional circumstances that shift this, not the other way around.
The first occasion when British people (and indeed anyone from abroad who catches on quickly) talk to each other, even those they may have been living next door to, is when something goes seriously wrong. You need a whole spate of burglaries, not just a few, for the ice to be broken. A murder or an abduction is usually necessary to really get people to talk to each other. A big fire or a riot will have a similar effect. There is a finite time for which this effect will last. It is dependent on the severity of the incident and how long concerns about it go on. The politician Tony Benn noted that when travelling on trains, people only began to talk to each other when the train broke down or was severely delayed. Often once the journey resumed they returned to their silence. Generally, if everything is going normally on public transport and you try to speak, people will distance themselves; will not respond and may even complain that you are a 'nutter'.
The tendency of crisis encouraging Britons to speak is probably declining itself as indignation, even fury, has replaced simply moaning as the UK's prime pastime. These days I find it is mainly the elderly who speak during a problem; the younger people, even the middle aged, now simply text or tweet furiously about it or even shout into their phones, rather than complain about it with the people around them.
Twice over the past two years, I have discovered the other thing that will get British people to magically talk and that is animals. It is said that the British love animals more than they love children and I think this is probably true. While having a child can be a link to colleagues to strike up a conversation, an animal can do this with complete strangers, including your neighbours. Two years ago I was renting in a room in a house owned by a Lithuanian family in South-West London. They would often be out at work during the day and sometimes their bitch a golden Staffordshire bull terrier, who was very well kept and friendly and had the run of a large garden, would be whining to be taken for a walk when I got in, often hours ahead of the other residents.
One day to calm her I took her for a walk. I had no experience in walking dogs except handling a friend's black Labrador for an afternoon about twenty years earlier. In addition, I quickly learned that she only understood commands such as 'sit' and 'stay' in Lithuanian. Lithuanian is one of the oldest languages in Europe which has not undergone much change except increase in vocabulary. Proper nouns of all creatures including humans and dogs depending on whether they are the subject, object, being ordered, etc. Anyway, with a gentle but firm hand I was able to walk the dog along the local river bank. She was exceptionally well behaved, heeling and lying down if another dog approached. The thing was that she was a key to suddenly a whole host of people talking to me. Despite walking down the same streets five times per week, without the dog I was invisible; with her I seemed safe and worthwhile talking with to men, women and children of all ages.
A similar effect has happened now that I have returned to southern England. As noted above, I have been renting this house since September, a little over three months now. I have waved and tried to introduce myself to the neighbours in the close I live at the entrance to, to no avail. No-one has given me their name or even responded to me walking up and saying 'hello'. I know I look a little odd and people are particularly suspicious of middle-aged men, but the woman who lives in the house, who is younger than me, has had a similar reaction. After three months, we have no idea of the names of any of the neighbours and apart from one man who drives a company van, no idea of what they do. We have picked up scraps of information from seeing them coming and going, but nothing more. If someone said to me that the person next door was called Mr. Smith and he was a local footballer or if they said he was Mr. Korzeniowska and he was a terrorist, I would have no idea if either of these statements was true or not. I know he has two expensive cars, a blonde woman and small girl and a small dog, that is it. I have not even seen his face in these dark evenings.
Now, this week something changed. A cat decided that it lived in our house. Every time we opened the front door it would run into the house and be reluctant to leave. It is well tended and had a collar and bell but no tag. We have been advised to check if it has a chip implanted but it is difficult to get her in our car and we do not know if we will have to pay to have this checked. Given that this is a large housing estate with houses back-to-back and labyrinthine closes, she may have strayed off her usual patch and be confused how to get back. She likes none of the food we have offered and keeps looking for toys we do not have. The woman in my house went to everyone in our close and because it was about a cat suddenly they began talking. It was none of theirs, but people who had ignored us repeatedly were suddenly giving their names and speaking. Even the man who lives opposite who parks his van to block the exit of my car because he has lived in the close longer and feels he has that right, suddenly introduced himself when he saw us with the cat. Putting up posters about her got complete strangers from neighbouring streets talking to us at random. Our appearance has not changed; our behaviour has not changed, but abruptly we are perceived as people that can be spoken to.
Dogs and cats like me. Other people's dogs will often come to my heel or even get in my car. However, personally I cannot stand them; they all stink. Furthermore I think people who focus on cats and dogs lack an essential element of humanity. Yet, it is clear now that they have an important use. We are not allowed to keep any pets under our tenancy and we need to get this one back to the owner, who we fear may be abroad or away over the Christmas period. However, in a couple of days she has done us a great service in making us appear acceptable and finally we have some of the communication we had wanted/expected. How long we can 'milk' this opportunity I do not know. However, I do recommend that if your British neighbours give you the silent treatment, borrow someone's cat or dog and it will change their view of you in an instant. It is clear that buying a dog was the best thing the Lithuanians could have done to be accepted quickly in their particular suburb. I have no understanding why this situation is the case, but it is something I have finally learned. It does not make me a fan of either dogs or cats, but I can see their use.
Sunday, 20 December 2015
Thursday, 10 December 2015
My Writing Is So Bad That It Makes People Uncomfortable
I have commented before on the reviews I receive of my books. The reviews are largely bad. Sometimes this is because I produce books that people do not want. Apparently my counter-factual history books cannot be in the alternate history section because I do not make firm enough decisions on what might have happened. My books of analysis are criticised for not being books of stories and ironically my books of stories are criticised for presenting the world as it might have been. Despite having 'Factual' and 'Counterfactual' sections in my books I apparently do not make the distinction clearly enough. My syntax is bad because my sentences are too long and also too fragmented. My books are 'BORING' as well.
Apparently despite my research, my portrayal of certain historical characters is seen as being speculative. I am apparently wrong to feel a victory for the Confederacy in the American Civil War or a US victory in Vietnam would be bad outcomes for the USA, though given the words of Donald Trump currently receiving such support I realise that I come from a very different planet to many Americans so it is inevitable that my views are different. A book featuring stories set in Britain is condemned because it is just about Britain. A story featuring the Mongols is apparently insufficiently pro-Mongol to have any credibility.
Some feel '[t]he concept is really clever. Unfortunately the writing is far from gripping.', possibly because not every story involves a huge battle. Even those who feel my books are 'interesting' will not give me better than the mediocre 3-star rating. Positive reviews present me as writing obscure stuff far away from the work of Harry Turtledove, though my books are pretty much like many of his collections, perhaps again I simply have insufficient fighting.
Nothing I do in my books, how I re-edit them or re-categorise them is enough to satisfy the majority of people who commentate on my books. I cannot find the right category for some people. I cannot write in the precise way certain readers want, though I spell check and grammar check repeatedly and revise again and again. I cannot write in American English though I have tried. I cannot turn myself into a Trump supporter and I know that there are enough books out there on Amazon in that style that fans of his have no need to come anywhere near my books. I cannot afford to use the copyrighted images that some people insist upon.
These are problems I have faced with my writing. The strength of feeling often surprises me; commentators take real offence at what I have dared to do. The attacks from so many sides make me want to abandon writing, which I know is the objective of many critics. Today's posting, however, is to indicate how much power I clearly have over people that I somehow 'lure' into reading my books. One has said that 'Even though I knew what I was buying, it just was not an enjoyable experience.' which makes my book sound like it is heroin and at least an enema. Indeed one commentator has said he found my book '[a]lmost painful'. As a writer I must be something like a venus flytrap. I am able to lure people in to buy my book and read it; not to return it for a refund as they can easily do, and yet write so badly that I make them really suffer to the extent that they cannot simply stop reading my book, but they have to utterly delete it from their e-reader.
I clearly have a weapon that maybe the British or perhaps the US government might want to pick up on. With training and practice it seems likely that I can write a book which is both so intriguing at yet so bad that it will kill someone. I know it is said that 'the pen is mightier than the sword' but had not realised how literal that the saying was. So far I guess I have produced books like a razor blade and with time I may work up to a stiletto and then a proper dagger.
Apparently despite my research, my portrayal of certain historical characters is seen as being speculative. I am apparently wrong to feel a victory for the Confederacy in the American Civil War or a US victory in Vietnam would be bad outcomes for the USA, though given the words of Donald Trump currently receiving such support I realise that I come from a very different planet to many Americans so it is inevitable that my views are different. A book featuring stories set in Britain is condemned because it is just about Britain. A story featuring the Mongols is apparently insufficiently pro-Mongol to have any credibility.
Some feel '[t]he concept is really clever. Unfortunately the writing is far from gripping.', possibly because not every story involves a huge battle. Even those who feel my books are 'interesting' will not give me better than the mediocre 3-star rating. Positive reviews present me as writing obscure stuff far away from the work of Harry Turtledove, though my books are pretty much like many of his collections, perhaps again I simply have insufficient fighting.
Nothing I do in my books, how I re-edit them or re-categorise them is enough to satisfy the majority of people who commentate on my books. I cannot find the right category for some people. I cannot write in the precise way certain readers want, though I spell check and grammar check repeatedly and revise again and again. I cannot write in American English though I have tried. I cannot turn myself into a Trump supporter and I know that there are enough books out there on Amazon in that style that fans of his have no need to come anywhere near my books. I cannot afford to use the copyrighted images that some people insist upon.
These are problems I have faced with my writing. The strength of feeling often surprises me; commentators take real offence at what I have dared to do. The attacks from so many sides make me want to abandon writing, which I know is the objective of many critics. Today's posting, however, is to indicate how much power I clearly have over people that I somehow 'lure' into reading my books. One has said that 'Even though I knew what I was buying, it just was not an enjoyable experience.' which makes my book sound like it is heroin and at least an enema. Indeed one commentator has said he found my book '[a]lmost painful'. As a writer I must be something like a venus flytrap. I am able to lure people in to buy my book and read it; not to return it for a refund as they can easily do, and yet write so badly that I make them really suffer to the extent that they cannot simply stop reading my book, but they have to utterly delete it from their e-reader.
I clearly have a weapon that maybe the British or perhaps the US government might want to pick up on. With training and practice it seems likely that I can write a book which is both so intriguing at yet so bad that it will kill someone. I know it is said that 'the pen is mightier than the sword' but had not realised how literal that the saying was. So far I guess I have produced books like a razor blade and with time I may work up to a stiletto and then a proper dagger.
Monday, 30 November 2015
The Books I Read In November
Fiction
'A Body in the Bath House' by Lindsey Davis
This is a book from the long-running Falco series of books, featuring the eponymous Roman detective active in the 1st century CE. I read the first in the series 'The Silver Pigs' (1989) many years ago. This is the 13th book of 20, published in 2001. Davis has moved on to writing stories featuring Falco's daughter.
This novel was not at all good. The books are written in the first person with Falco looking back on his life. However, despite Davis's work in terms of ensuring historical accuracy, Falco's manner is far too late 20th century/early 21st century. The complexities of Falco's family and connections are complex and add little to the story except for confusion and coincidence later in the story.
This story mainly focuses on Falco resolving issues at the construction of the palace at Fishbourne in southern England. Thus, Davis puts in far too many jokes about unreliable builders and uses construction jargon from modern times. The jokes are very feeble and not humorous if you have never had an extension built. The key problem with the book is that it progresses with minimal direction. Various people die whether from accidents or murders but there is little sense of urgency. Ultimately murders both in Rome and in Britain are resolved almost by accident. Overall this book seemed to be a waste of effort. There were interesting components but they were assembled in a way which was listless and not engaging. I am unlikely to read any more of Davis's books.
'The Time Ships' by Stephen Baxter
Down the years friends have often recommended me to read certain books. Typically I have loathed the recommendations and as a consequence if someone suggests I should read a book, let alone says I 'have to' read it, then I go out of my way to avoid it. This book was lent to me by a friend and running short of science fiction or fantasy books, I turned to it. It is billed as 'The Authorized Sequel to The Time Machine'. It is not clear who authorised it, but I imagine it was the estate of H.G. Wells. As we know from the difficulties that 'The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen' (2003) movie faced in trying to feature the lead character of 'The Invisible Man' (1897), the estate guards these things very assiduously. 'The Time Machine' (1895) is a novella and at over 600 pages, I feel Baxter has lost some of the essence of the original. The tone is pretty well replicated of a Victorian character written in the first person. However, Baxter does tend to betray his own era especially in portraying the superstructures created by the advanced Morlocks and then the Universal Constructors that seem to be physical manifestations of the internet. Baxter's problem is that he simply has too many ideas that he feels compelled to jam into the book. This is in contrast to Wells who maintained a tighter focus, exploring a concept per book.
Wells's book first appeared as a magazine serial and it is ironic that because of the multiplicity of ideas that Baxter feels compelled to include his book ends up being very episodic. Any block could have been a book in itself. There is travel to the advanced Morlock society in which a vast sphere has been built around the Sun. There is a brief episode in which the time traveller meets his younger self. There is an alternate 1938 and 1944 caused by time travel and involving an enduring First World War. This seems to have been caused by the Kaiserschlacht of March 1918 succeeding and an assassination of a leading Allied general in Paris, I assume Marshal Foch. There is a return to the Paleocene era; a journey to an Earth wrecked by a perpetual ice age brought on by climate change from pollution and a return to the original future of Morlocks and Eloi envisaged in the original novel. Any one of these would have been sufficient for Baxter to explore his ideas of parallel realities allowing time travel and changes to history shifting the traveller into an alternate rather than actually changing that line of history; plus the sense that humans are almost doomed to becoming Morlocks or Eloi in one way or another. I am never happy with beneficent super-powerful creatures with vast constructs and Baxter manages to get two of these in. The visits to the alternate mid-20th century and the prehistoric period are much more tolerable.
I enjoyed this book more than I anticipated. However, I feel it is too long. I feel that it should not be perceived as a sequel to 'The Time Machine' but something simply using the tone of that book. It might appeal more to readers who are fans of 'hard' science fiction. Steampunk fans may enjoy the middle element of the book. However, this is clearly a segmented novel and ultimately it is less overall than the sum of its parts. I have been ambivalent about Baxter's work and this hardly encourages me to seek out any more. However, in contrast to other book recommendations I have received, I am not angry with my friend for proposing this book.
'The Daydreamer' by Ian McEwan
My book choices recently have proven to be so poor that I almost feel I should start up a separate blog entitled 'Books Not to Read'. Given how harsh and dismissive a large portion of online reviews are, I feel at least I am fair in my portrayal of the books. I do wonder, sometimes, how these people managed to get their books published. As someone once said to me, it is clear that it is not the book which gets it published, it is the person. This is one reason why established authors, let alone celebrities, get poor quality books out there and why sales of Robert Galbraith's book, 'The Cuckoo's Calling (2013) rose by 156,866% when it was revealed that they were written by J.K. Rowling.
As you can imagine from this lead-in, I was not pleased with 'The Daydreamer' (1995). I bought it about the time I read 'The Innocent' (1990). That was a gritty thriller set in 1950s Berlin; was well researched and engaging. I was irritated with reviews of the 1993 movie of the novel, as there was criticism that Isabella Rossellini was told old to play Maria in the movie. She was 40 years old at the time and the character is 36 in the book. Critics made the lazy assumption that innocent had to be the female character rather than Leonard played by Campbell Scott.
That aside, 'The Daydreamer' comes nowhere close to the earlier book by McEwan. It is a conceit. It is supposed to be a book written for children that adults can enjoy. It features a number of episodes from the life of Peter Fortune between the ages of 10-12. He daydreams himself into a number of scenarios, quite a fair portion of which envisage him swapping bodies in order to learn a lesson. Yes, it is written in language which could be comprehensible by children of that age and could be seen as a collection of modern fables. However, even if you accept these aspects, it is highly flawed.
It appears to be as nastily autobiographical as Martin Amis's work and, as regular readers know, I think Amis is highly over-rated. It is set in a world that only exists in the mind of Michael Bond. Aside from the occasional references to computer games, it could be inhabiting that stylised third quarter of the 20th century; it barely scrapes into the fourth quarter. It is as if white middle class southern urban England has been distilled to its fullest. This is the kind of context that the grandchildren of Enid Blyton's characters would have ended up living in. As such, this is more unrealistic than the fantasies Peter ends up in. It would have been more refreshing set on a fantasy island. I have no idea why McEwan wrote this book, it seems to have been an utter waste of his time. I have been reminded of the lesson of not to fall into the trap of assuming that if an author can write one good or even decent book, that others they produce will come anywhere close.
I have another of McEwan's slim volumes on my pile which I will read, but then it might be time to give up on him entirely.
'A Body in the Bath House' by Lindsey Davis
This is a book from the long-running Falco series of books, featuring the eponymous Roman detective active in the 1st century CE. I read the first in the series 'The Silver Pigs' (1989) many years ago. This is the 13th book of 20, published in 2001. Davis has moved on to writing stories featuring Falco's daughter.
This novel was not at all good. The books are written in the first person with Falco looking back on his life. However, despite Davis's work in terms of ensuring historical accuracy, Falco's manner is far too late 20th century/early 21st century. The complexities of Falco's family and connections are complex and add little to the story except for confusion and coincidence later in the story.
This story mainly focuses on Falco resolving issues at the construction of the palace at Fishbourne in southern England. Thus, Davis puts in far too many jokes about unreliable builders and uses construction jargon from modern times. The jokes are very feeble and not humorous if you have never had an extension built. The key problem with the book is that it progresses with minimal direction. Various people die whether from accidents or murders but there is little sense of urgency. Ultimately murders both in Rome and in Britain are resolved almost by accident. Overall this book seemed to be a waste of effort. There were interesting components but they were assembled in a way which was listless and not engaging. I am unlikely to read any more of Davis's books.
'The Time Ships' by Stephen Baxter
Down the years friends have often recommended me to read certain books. Typically I have loathed the recommendations and as a consequence if someone suggests I should read a book, let alone says I 'have to' read it, then I go out of my way to avoid it. This book was lent to me by a friend and running short of science fiction or fantasy books, I turned to it. It is billed as 'The Authorized Sequel to The Time Machine'. It is not clear who authorised it, but I imagine it was the estate of H.G. Wells. As we know from the difficulties that 'The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen' (2003) movie faced in trying to feature the lead character of 'The Invisible Man' (1897), the estate guards these things very assiduously. 'The Time Machine' (1895) is a novella and at over 600 pages, I feel Baxter has lost some of the essence of the original. The tone is pretty well replicated of a Victorian character written in the first person. However, Baxter does tend to betray his own era especially in portraying the superstructures created by the advanced Morlocks and then the Universal Constructors that seem to be physical manifestations of the internet. Baxter's problem is that he simply has too many ideas that he feels compelled to jam into the book. This is in contrast to Wells who maintained a tighter focus, exploring a concept per book.
Wells's book first appeared as a magazine serial and it is ironic that because of the multiplicity of ideas that Baxter feels compelled to include his book ends up being very episodic. Any block could have been a book in itself. There is travel to the advanced Morlock society in which a vast sphere has been built around the Sun. There is a brief episode in which the time traveller meets his younger self. There is an alternate 1938 and 1944 caused by time travel and involving an enduring First World War. This seems to have been caused by the Kaiserschlacht of March 1918 succeeding and an assassination of a leading Allied general in Paris, I assume Marshal Foch. There is a return to the Paleocene era; a journey to an Earth wrecked by a perpetual ice age brought on by climate change from pollution and a return to the original future of Morlocks and Eloi envisaged in the original novel. Any one of these would have been sufficient for Baxter to explore his ideas of parallel realities allowing time travel and changes to history shifting the traveller into an alternate rather than actually changing that line of history; plus the sense that humans are almost doomed to becoming Morlocks or Eloi in one way or another. I am never happy with beneficent super-powerful creatures with vast constructs and Baxter manages to get two of these in. The visits to the alternate mid-20th century and the prehistoric period are much more tolerable.
I enjoyed this book more than I anticipated. However, I feel it is too long. I feel that it should not be perceived as a sequel to 'The Time Machine' but something simply using the tone of that book. It might appeal more to readers who are fans of 'hard' science fiction. Steampunk fans may enjoy the middle element of the book. However, this is clearly a segmented novel and ultimately it is less overall than the sum of its parts. I have been ambivalent about Baxter's work and this hardly encourages me to seek out any more. However, in contrast to other book recommendations I have received, I am not angry with my friend for proposing this book.
'The Daydreamer' by Ian McEwan
My book choices recently have proven to be so poor that I almost feel I should start up a separate blog entitled 'Books Not to Read'. Given how harsh and dismissive a large portion of online reviews are, I feel at least I am fair in my portrayal of the books. I do wonder, sometimes, how these people managed to get their books published. As someone once said to me, it is clear that it is not the book which gets it published, it is the person. This is one reason why established authors, let alone celebrities, get poor quality books out there and why sales of Robert Galbraith's book, 'The Cuckoo's Calling (2013) rose by 156,866% when it was revealed that they were written by J.K. Rowling.
As you can imagine from this lead-in, I was not pleased with 'The Daydreamer' (1995). I bought it about the time I read 'The Innocent' (1990). That was a gritty thriller set in 1950s Berlin; was well researched and engaging. I was irritated with reviews of the 1993 movie of the novel, as there was criticism that Isabella Rossellini was told old to play Maria in the movie. She was 40 years old at the time and the character is 36 in the book. Critics made the lazy assumption that innocent had to be the female character rather than Leonard played by Campbell Scott.
That aside, 'The Daydreamer' comes nowhere close to the earlier book by McEwan. It is a conceit. It is supposed to be a book written for children that adults can enjoy. It features a number of episodes from the life of Peter Fortune between the ages of 10-12. He daydreams himself into a number of scenarios, quite a fair portion of which envisage him swapping bodies in order to learn a lesson. Yes, it is written in language which could be comprehensible by children of that age and could be seen as a collection of modern fables. However, even if you accept these aspects, it is highly flawed.
It appears to be as nastily autobiographical as Martin Amis's work and, as regular readers know, I think Amis is highly over-rated. It is set in a world that only exists in the mind of Michael Bond. Aside from the occasional references to computer games, it could be inhabiting that stylised third quarter of the 20th century; it barely scrapes into the fourth quarter. It is as if white middle class southern urban England has been distilled to its fullest. This is the kind of context that the grandchildren of Enid Blyton's characters would have ended up living in. As such, this is more unrealistic than the fantasies Peter ends up in. It would have been more refreshing set on a fantasy island. I have no idea why McEwan wrote this book, it seems to have been an utter waste of his time. I have been reminded of the lesson of not to fall into the trap of assuming that if an author can write one good or even decent book, that others they produce will come anywhere close.
I have another of McEwan's slim volumes on my pile which I will read, but then it might be time to give up on him entirely.
Saturday, 31 October 2015
The Books I Read In October
Fiction
'Tales of Old Japan' by A.B. Mitford
This book was recommended in 'The Guardian' newspaper recently and I realised I had a copy. It is a reprint of a book published in 1871 by A.B. [Algernon Bertram Freeman-]Mitford (1837-1916) who was part of the British Legation to Japan at the time that it was opening up to the outside world. He witnessed elements of the civil war which broke out between the forces of the Shogun and those of the Emperor, leading to the victory of the latter, the so-called Meiji Restoration. Mitford consequently was witness to a period of immense change in which Japan shed much of the culture it had had effectively frozen since the 17th century and abruptly leapt into modernisation. He also highlights the damage the civil war did. Thus, while the book is a collection of traditional stories, it is interspersed by Mitford's reflections on what he saw at this particular time. Importantly he cautioned readers of the time not to make assumptions about Japan based simply on what they saw at ports open to foreigners. Thus, you effectively have two books running in parallel, the stories as narrated by Mitford or another narrator he translated rather than us reading the story directly and a rather erratic commentary on mid-19th century Japan. It is interesting to set Mitford's work beside that of Lafcadio Hearn (1850–1904), similarly a traveller to Japan and a collector of its myths and legends. Mitford is clearly a partisan of the Emperor and misses no opportunity to disparage the Shogunate even when described in far history.
'Tales of Old Japan' by A.B. Mitford
This book was recommended in 'The Guardian' newspaper recently and I realised I had a copy. It is a reprint of a book published in 1871 by A.B. [Algernon Bertram Freeman-]Mitford (1837-1916) who was part of the British Legation to Japan at the time that it was opening up to the outside world. He witnessed elements of the civil war which broke out between the forces of the Shogun and those of the Emperor, leading to the victory of the latter, the so-called Meiji Restoration. Mitford consequently was witness to a period of immense change in which Japan shed much of the culture it had had effectively frozen since the 17th century and abruptly leapt into modernisation. He also highlights the damage the civil war did. Thus, while the book is a collection of traditional stories, it is interspersed by Mitford's reflections on what he saw at this particular time. Importantly he cautioned readers of the time not to make assumptions about Japan based simply on what they saw at ports open to foreigners. Thus, you effectively have two books running in parallel, the stories as narrated by Mitford or another narrator he translated rather than us reading the story directly and a rather erratic commentary on mid-19th century Japan. It is interesting to set Mitford's work beside that of Lafcadio Hearn (1850–1904), similarly a traveller to Japan and a collector of its myths and legends. Mitford is clearly a partisan of the Emperor and misses no opportunity to disparage the Shogunate even when described in far history.
The stories that Mitford covers includes the famous 'The Forty-Seven Ronin' and other stories with very convoluted tales of revenge. However, these stories indicate much about the caste nature of Japanese society; many are tragic. He also includes fantastical stories which highlight the importance of animal spirits, notably badgers and foxes, but also hares, in Japanese stories. These are the equivalent of the stories collected by the Brothers Grimm. Of less interest, indeed rather tedious are the odd bits from Japan of Mitford's time. He includes a number of Buddhist sermons from the Nichiren sect which drag on. This, I imagine, is because Mitford states that with exposure to the West he anticipated Buddhism being entirely eliminated from Japan within a matter of years. This might also reflect the revival of Shintoism at the time which was in part to be the basis of developing Japanese militarism. Similarly tedious are his translated accounts of seppuku, ritual suicide. I imagine he included this as it was something that shocked contemporary readers. His account of the one he witnessed in 1868 is far better than the guidebook he translates, the same can be said for the sections on weddings and funerals.
One gripe I have is that he renders the shorter Samurai sword, the wakizashi as 'dirk' which in my experience is more like a dagger and would equate to the Japanese tanto.
One gripe I have is that he renders the shorter Samurai sword, the wakizashi as 'dirk' which in my experience is more like a dagger and would equate to the Japanese tanto.
This is an engaging book on the two levels that I have highlighted. It tells us as much about British Victorian views of Japan as it does about the country itself at the time. However, it does provide a range of quick stories which remain important even today in Japan as can be seen from the numerous movies of 'The Forty-Seven Ronin' and reference to them even in our culture.
P.P. 06/12/2015
I caught a bit of the time-travelling drama, 'Outlander' (2014) that the woman in my house has been watching. The series is not to be confused with the movie of 'Outlander' (2008), which is about an alien with high-tech landing in Viking-age northern Europe. The series is about a woman travelling in Scotland between the late 1940s and in the mid-18th century. I quickly got put off by the series because, despite being set in these two time periods not known for liberal sexuality, the characters seem to leap at having sex of all sorts, at every possible occasion. I suppose the series is aimed at the 'mummy porn' market. These fantasies are characterised by dominant males carrying off women and yet fulfilling their sexual needs, rather than abusing and exploiting them as would have actually been the case in 1948 as in 1745. Anyway, one of the scenes I saw before the protagonists went for sex behind a bush and I left, was the heroine being equipped with an 18th century dirk. Assuming that the programme makers have striven for historical accuracy, despite being a dagger, it was long and broad enough to be an equivalent of a wakizashi. I realised I had only seen modern versions which are far smaller. So, I have to forgive Mitford. At the time he was writing, a dirk would indeed be the nearest British equivalent of a Japanese short sword.
Non-Fiction
'Blitzkrieg: From the Rise of Hitler to the Fall of Dunkirk' by Len Deighton
Deighton is primarily known for his spy fiction. However, this book and 'Fighter: The True Story of the Battle of Britain' (1977) he produced popular non-fiction books that specifically challenged many of the myths of these events of the Second World War. He did this at the right time because in the late 1970s people who had taken a leading role in what happened were still alive. Deighton's book published in 1979, benefits from the input from men who had been involved in the fighting of the first year of the war, indeed the foreword was written by General of Panzertroops Walter Nehring (1892-1983) who had served as Chief of Staff to Colonel General Heinz Wilhelm Guderian (1888–1954), the leading general in terms of what we see as Blitzkrieg tactics. Interestingly, Nehring focuses on the chance that was missed to crush the British Expeditionary Force at Dunkirk, whereas Deighton's book primarily demonstrates how much of a gamble the German invasion of France was and that success came from a combination of generals, notably Guderian, disobeying orders; good luck and defeatism on the part of the French commanders and hence the men beneath them, leading them often to surrender or flee when there was no need.
Deighton shows both how the principles of Blitzkrieg go back to Prussian military principles of the 19th century, but also how rare the method was. He demonstrates that the invasion of Poland and of Norway; indeed the German advance beyond Dunkirk to finally defeat France owed very little to the Blitzkrieg concept. He certainly emphasises how many missed chances there were to halt the German advance in the Ardennes, at the Meuse and even on the advance to the Somme. This could have brought the war to an end far earlier than in our world. The book is excellent in terms of the technical details of tanks, aircraft and other weapons and how they were used. It is well illustrated with simply maps, images of tanks and photographs. It is written in a brisk style well broken up, so it does not become a heavy text. Some sections, however, are too generic and add little.
There was no real reason to repeat everything about the rise of Hitler and the Nazi Party. It would have been better to have started with the annexation of Austria, because of the use of various tank units and worked from there. It would have been better if he had continued properly until the surrender of France as it seems to come to an abrupt halt which does not really demonstrate how the use of Blitzkrieg in France ceased and was replaced by traditional tactics, even though Deighton asserts that this happened. Deighton has some strange obsessions and goes on extensively about the SA and Ernst Röhm's homosexuality, which really has nothing to do with the focus of his book. On such occasions you see the novelist seeking out interesting characters, getting in the way of the historian. Overall, an engaging book which effectively challenges many myths about Blitzkrieg and the military strength of both Germany and France, which you still see too commonly today. Certainly recommended for anyone with an interest in the first phases of the Second World War and a model of how a popular history book can be produced, but unfortunately seems to be neglected as an example of good practice.
P.P. 06/12/2015
I caught a bit of the time-travelling drama, 'Outlander' (2014) that the woman in my house has been watching. The series is not to be confused with the movie of 'Outlander' (2008), which is about an alien with high-tech landing in Viking-age northern Europe. The series is about a woman travelling in Scotland between the late 1940s and in the mid-18th century. I quickly got put off by the series because, despite being set in these two time periods not known for liberal sexuality, the characters seem to leap at having sex of all sorts, at every possible occasion. I suppose the series is aimed at the 'mummy porn' market. These fantasies are characterised by dominant males carrying off women and yet fulfilling their sexual needs, rather than abusing and exploiting them as would have actually been the case in 1948 as in 1745. Anyway, one of the scenes I saw before the protagonists went for sex behind a bush and I left, was the heroine being equipped with an 18th century dirk. Assuming that the programme makers have striven for historical accuracy, despite being a dagger, it was long and broad enough to be an equivalent of a wakizashi. I realised I had only seen modern versions which are far smaller. So, I have to forgive Mitford. At the time he was writing, a dirk would indeed be the nearest British equivalent of a Japanese short sword.
Non-Fiction
'Blitzkrieg: From the Rise of Hitler to the Fall of Dunkirk' by Len Deighton
Deighton is primarily known for his spy fiction. However, this book and 'Fighter: The True Story of the Battle of Britain' (1977) he produced popular non-fiction books that specifically challenged many of the myths of these events of the Second World War. He did this at the right time because in the late 1970s people who had taken a leading role in what happened were still alive. Deighton's book published in 1979, benefits from the input from men who had been involved in the fighting of the first year of the war, indeed the foreword was written by General of Panzertroops Walter Nehring (1892-1983) who had served as Chief of Staff to Colonel General Heinz Wilhelm Guderian (1888–1954), the leading general in terms of what we see as Blitzkrieg tactics. Interestingly, Nehring focuses on the chance that was missed to crush the British Expeditionary Force at Dunkirk, whereas Deighton's book primarily demonstrates how much of a gamble the German invasion of France was and that success came from a combination of generals, notably Guderian, disobeying orders; good luck and defeatism on the part of the French commanders and hence the men beneath them, leading them often to surrender or flee when there was no need.
Deighton shows both how the principles of Blitzkrieg go back to Prussian military principles of the 19th century, but also how rare the method was. He demonstrates that the invasion of Poland and of Norway; indeed the German advance beyond Dunkirk to finally defeat France owed very little to the Blitzkrieg concept. He certainly emphasises how many missed chances there were to halt the German advance in the Ardennes, at the Meuse and even on the advance to the Somme. This could have brought the war to an end far earlier than in our world. The book is excellent in terms of the technical details of tanks, aircraft and other weapons and how they were used. It is well illustrated with simply maps, images of tanks and photographs. It is written in a brisk style well broken up, so it does not become a heavy text. Some sections, however, are too generic and add little.
There was no real reason to repeat everything about the rise of Hitler and the Nazi Party. It would have been better to have started with the annexation of Austria, because of the use of various tank units and worked from there. It would have been better if he had continued properly until the surrender of France as it seems to come to an abrupt halt which does not really demonstrate how the use of Blitzkrieg in France ceased and was replaced by traditional tactics, even though Deighton asserts that this happened. Deighton has some strange obsessions and goes on extensively about the SA and Ernst Röhm's homosexuality, which really has nothing to do with the focus of his book. On such occasions you see the novelist seeking out interesting characters, getting in the way of the historian. Overall, an engaging book which effectively challenges many myths about Blitzkrieg and the military strength of both Germany and France, which you still see too commonly today. Certainly recommended for anyone with an interest in the first phases of the Second World War and a model of how a popular history book can be produced, but unfortunately seems to be neglected as an example of good practice.
Tuesday, 13 October 2015
Pedalling Too Fast? You Have More than One Gear
This is a posting griping about something I am seeing on an almost daily basis these days, even though I have moved into a close. It is cyclists coming past me with their feet spinning around on their pedals and yet them progressing slowly. This used to be confined to young people and where I lived it seemed to be common among East Asian residents, but now I am seeing people of all ages and ethnicities doing it. I could understand it if I lived in the Peak District or the Grampians or even on the Downs, but I live in southern England, to the East of the Tees-Exe line and so steep hills are not particularly common; indeed a lot of the roads have minimal inclines. Yet all of these cyclists are riding around as if they are about to attempt to ride up Mont Ventoux or Alpe d'Huez. You see their feet spinning around as they progress slower than walking along a flat road. In the past I have challenged people as I have walked by but soon learned that not only was that deemed unacceptable no matter how politely I did it, but the cyclists had little idea of what I was talking about.
You have to wonder at the lack of curiosity on the part of the cyclists. Whenever I buy or rent a new car I try out all of the buttons to see what they do. Clearly these cyclists have not tried the levers or twisted the grips which operate the gears. Perhaps it is an issue of there being so many. When I was a boy, the bicycles that ordinary people rode had 3, 5 or 10 gears. Only those who raced had more. These days even a child's bike will have more than 20 and rather than seeing the cable pulling the guide wheel across it is all confined within the frame and adjusted by something looking more suited to a motorbike. Perhaps seeing other cyclists around them similarly spinning their feet around people assume that is what cycling is normally and they do not realise that they could be moving far more effectively and indeed speedily especially on the flat or shallow inclines. Cycling around a town you probably need only 5 of the many gears you have and it seems ironic that most people have their bicycle set on the one which would enable them to ride up an alp rather than a high street.
I do not know how you solve this issue. We live in an age in which people do not read instructions and certainly are angered by anyone offering advice of any kind. I suppose we just have to cycle or walk past them marvelling that they have so little sense of self-preservation that they will not try out all the functions on their machine and work out what is best for them in a given situation. Where this does become a hazard is when you also hear the squeak of a chain that has never been oiled, despite bicycle lubricant now being available in supermarkets and with tyres with so little pressure in them they flop around and are liable to puncture. Children are supposed to pass a cycling proficiency series of classes but adults are simply allowed to get on a bicycle and try to go. Drivers say that cyclists need licences and insurance, largely, however, as an excuse for hitting them. However, I think there would be benefit in having to secure a cycling permit including basic maintenance and how to cycle safely and efficiently. The challenge is how this would be administered and how unlicenced cyclists would be caught and penalised. For now I just have to walk passed people on squeaky bicycles moving slowly along the road believing they are cycling for real.
You have to wonder at the lack of curiosity on the part of the cyclists. Whenever I buy or rent a new car I try out all of the buttons to see what they do. Clearly these cyclists have not tried the levers or twisted the grips which operate the gears. Perhaps it is an issue of there being so many. When I was a boy, the bicycles that ordinary people rode had 3, 5 or 10 gears. Only those who raced had more. These days even a child's bike will have more than 20 and rather than seeing the cable pulling the guide wheel across it is all confined within the frame and adjusted by something looking more suited to a motorbike. Perhaps seeing other cyclists around them similarly spinning their feet around people assume that is what cycling is normally and they do not realise that they could be moving far more effectively and indeed speedily especially on the flat or shallow inclines. Cycling around a town you probably need only 5 of the many gears you have and it seems ironic that most people have their bicycle set on the one which would enable them to ride up an alp rather than a high street.
I do not know how you solve this issue. We live in an age in which people do not read instructions and certainly are angered by anyone offering advice of any kind. I suppose we just have to cycle or walk past them marvelling that they have so little sense of self-preservation that they will not try out all the functions on their machine and work out what is best for them in a given situation. Where this does become a hazard is when you also hear the squeak of a chain that has never been oiled, despite bicycle lubricant now being available in supermarkets and with tyres with so little pressure in them they flop around and are liable to puncture. Children are supposed to pass a cycling proficiency series of classes but adults are simply allowed to get on a bicycle and try to go. Drivers say that cyclists need licences and insurance, largely, however, as an excuse for hitting them. However, I think there would be benefit in having to secure a cycling permit including basic maintenance and how to cycle safely and efficiently. The challenge is how this would be administered and how unlicenced cyclists would be caught and penalised. For now I just have to walk passed people on squeaky bicycles moving slowly along the road believing they are cycling for real.
Wednesday, 30 September 2015
The Book I Read in September
Fiction
'Ink' by Hal Duncan
As I have discussed before, as I have aged, people increasingly have felt that I may have Asperger's Syndrome and as a result find it difficult to 'connect' with what they feel is 'normal' society. Indeed this week, having introduced myself to my new manger, a colleague said 'of course, the rest of us live normal lives'. Given her obsessions and zoning out to anyone else's words, we might contest her view of 'normal'. Anyway, I provide this as an explanation of why I ended up reading this book having given its predecessor 'Vellum' such a bad review: http://rooksmoor.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-book-i-read-in-june.html I bought the two books together, though fortunately from a charity shop. Having been criticised at school for not completing a book ('Great Escape Stories' by Eric Williams (1962) largely because though a fan of the accounts of escapes from Colditz castle I found post-war stories had too much of a feeling of torture), I have always battled to any that I have bought and started to read.
Unsurprisingly, 'Ink' was no better than 'Vellum'. It is 115 pages longer which is hardly a benefit. It again contained loads of fragments typically featuring the same set of characters in multiple alternate worlds. This time there was a parallel thread of a performance of Harlequin, Columbine, et al and parallels drawn between them and the book's characters and various personalities from ancient myths. There is a pretentious bit at the end about how Duncan has drawn on various translations of Greek myths, but if that is the case and not simply an affectation, he has learned nothing from these works in terms of character, narrative or plot. Instead there is simply a pile of fragments. There are flashes of interesting ideas and settings. One sustained one is set in Syria in 1929 in which the Ottoman Empire was able to hold on to the North of the country following the First World War and using weaponry provided by Germany is threatening the British hold on Palestine. It is the first book I have read to feature the Yazhidi community, written before they attracted global attention from their suppression by Islamic State.
The two books promote a pro-gay agenda. The killing of a gay character at the end of 'Vellum' is constantly analysed and recast throughout the early parts of 'Ink'. Perhaps in 1975 this would have intrigued or even excited the reader, but in 2015 you are left feeling 'so what?'. You need to do far more with the scenario than simply toss it out there and expect the reader to be thrilled by how daring you are being. This is part of the problem, Duncan relishes showboating, grandstanding or whatever you want to call it. For him showing off how erudite he can be, how he has read more serious books than you, how he can keep all these tiny balls of story in the air at one time is more important to him than actually producing a decent book,
Again a lot of good material seems wasted due to an utter lack of (self-)discipline by the author. I mentioned before that he is a Michael Moorcock fan and references things like Rosenstrasse, Mirenburg and needle guns. There are Moorcockesque references to drugs and rock groups. So this is fan fiction on a large scale, 1115 pages of it in total. However, it really lacks the deftness of Moorcock and the repetitiveness which is inevitable when fragments are piled so high, makes it much less than the sum of its parts.
I think that there is talent somewhere in Duncan. However, his vanity has been flattered for far, far too long. The fact that he was able to publish two such large books full of crumbs of stories shows this. He needs to stop the grandstanding and shed the tired tropes that might have been daring forty or fifty years ago, but these days for anyone who is going to pick up his kind of book are on their cliche hitlist. Gay characters are now simply characters, nothing more than that. Their sexuality is a part of their make-up just as the height or hair colour or religion is of them and other characters, It no longer warrants getting so het up about not least from the author.
I do recommend you do not bother with either 'Vellum' and 'Ink'. I hope Duncan is not further pandered to with publishing contracts until he can actually write a story.
'Ink' by Hal Duncan
As I have discussed before, as I have aged, people increasingly have felt that I may have Asperger's Syndrome and as a result find it difficult to 'connect' with what they feel is 'normal' society. Indeed this week, having introduced myself to my new manger, a colleague said 'of course, the rest of us live normal lives'. Given her obsessions and zoning out to anyone else's words, we might contest her view of 'normal'. Anyway, I provide this as an explanation of why I ended up reading this book having given its predecessor 'Vellum' such a bad review: http://rooksmoor.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-book-i-read-in-june.html I bought the two books together, though fortunately from a charity shop. Having been criticised at school for not completing a book ('Great Escape Stories' by Eric Williams (1962) largely because though a fan of the accounts of escapes from Colditz castle I found post-war stories had too much of a feeling of torture), I have always battled to any that I have bought and started to read.
Unsurprisingly, 'Ink' was no better than 'Vellum'. It is 115 pages longer which is hardly a benefit. It again contained loads of fragments typically featuring the same set of characters in multiple alternate worlds. This time there was a parallel thread of a performance of Harlequin, Columbine, et al and parallels drawn between them and the book's characters and various personalities from ancient myths. There is a pretentious bit at the end about how Duncan has drawn on various translations of Greek myths, but if that is the case and not simply an affectation, he has learned nothing from these works in terms of character, narrative or plot. Instead there is simply a pile of fragments. There are flashes of interesting ideas and settings. One sustained one is set in Syria in 1929 in which the Ottoman Empire was able to hold on to the North of the country following the First World War and using weaponry provided by Germany is threatening the British hold on Palestine. It is the first book I have read to feature the Yazhidi community, written before they attracted global attention from their suppression by Islamic State.
The two books promote a pro-gay agenda. The killing of a gay character at the end of 'Vellum' is constantly analysed and recast throughout the early parts of 'Ink'. Perhaps in 1975 this would have intrigued or even excited the reader, but in 2015 you are left feeling 'so what?'. You need to do far more with the scenario than simply toss it out there and expect the reader to be thrilled by how daring you are being. This is part of the problem, Duncan relishes showboating, grandstanding or whatever you want to call it. For him showing off how erudite he can be, how he has read more serious books than you, how he can keep all these tiny balls of story in the air at one time is more important to him than actually producing a decent book,
Again a lot of good material seems wasted due to an utter lack of (self-)discipline by the author. I mentioned before that he is a Michael Moorcock fan and references things like Rosenstrasse, Mirenburg and needle guns. There are Moorcockesque references to drugs and rock groups. So this is fan fiction on a large scale, 1115 pages of it in total. However, it really lacks the deftness of Moorcock and the repetitiveness which is inevitable when fragments are piled so high, makes it much less than the sum of its parts.
I think that there is talent somewhere in Duncan. However, his vanity has been flattered for far, far too long. The fact that he was able to publish two such large books full of crumbs of stories shows this. He needs to stop the grandstanding and shed the tired tropes that might have been daring forty or fifty years ago, but these days for anyone who is going to pick up his kind of book are on their cliche hitlist. Gay characters are now simply characters, nothing more than that. Their sexuality is a part of their make-up just as the height or hair colour or religion is of them and other characters, It no longer warrants getting so het up about not least from the author.
I do recommend you do not bother with either 'Vellum' and 'Ink'. I hope Duncan is not further pandered to with publishing contracts until he can actually write a story.
Monday, 21 September 2015
The Worst 'Doctor Who' Episode Ever?
The internet is full of fans and haters of 'Doctor Who' so you might argue there is no need for another. However, this blog has always been about getting the stuff stressing me, 'the tablets of lead' out of my system and into the 'waters' of the internet. After a dormant period following some terrible days in my life, I seem to be re-engaging with blogging, so expect an erratic flow of new ideas. The political scene is frightening at present with us beginning to see the shift to a more authoritarian state started by Blair but relished by Cameron. We also see the return of the military threatening to overthrow the Labour leader if he was ever elected to power. So far, so very mid-1970s. So perhaps it is time to seek solace in a programme I started watching back then.
I was not massively excited to see the new series of 'Doctor Who' on Saturday, but I did take time out to see it live. Ironically this was only for the woman who lives in my house, who has not watched it for eight years, to pause it because she was 'not ready'. Unlike some, I have been quite content with Peter Capaldi as the Doctor. I thought his first series was fine. The first series with a new actor in the role is always a bit lumpy. Perhaps only Christopher Eccleston came in without a hitch and then proved to have gone too quickly. Thus, I was expecting even better for Capaldi's second series. When I say an episode might be one of the worst ever, I have to say it has been a while since I saw those featuring Sylvester McCoy and so there might have been duller and/or more disjointed ones back then, that I have blotted out. I am, however, still, traumatised by the liquorice allsort man even now.
Back to Saturday's episode. The opening scene with the mix of biplane and bow-and-arrow and the revelation of the 'hand mines' did not disappoint. CGI has revolutionised television science fiction series. The reveal of who the boy in the mine field was, was excellent, really triggering a potential moral dilemma. I was happy. Then it was pushed aside. We had someone looking like they had come from 'Hellraiser' in a bar from the seedier side of Tatooine and then the Shadow Proclamation and so on. Yes, it might have reference Harry Potter a bit too much, but what was worse was how we got through so many good ideas very, very quickly, almost all of which could have been sufficient for an entire story. I am sure many fans were watching thinking how they might develop any one of these into a story. However, they were just tossed aside, not as a teaser but almost as if they were off-cuts from a script conference.
We got the frozen aeroplanes in the sky. I could buy this too. It felt a little Eccleston-era meets 'Torchwood' and 'Sarah Jane Adventures', but I was not averse to that. Clara leaping on a motorbike in a skirt and powering off to UNIT, well I guessed that was to keep the younger viewers on board who might be lost in all the darkness that had proceeded. Yet, again, another idea that could have sustained an entire episode was burnt up far too quickly.
Missy appearing in the dreariest of Spanish squares was more wasted content. From there it went down hill right to the bottom. So many potential stories had been discarded. The Doctor turning up with a guitar and a tank, trying to riff on 'Back to the Future' was an embarrassment. He was supposed to be in 1138 CE (and no-one calls it AD these days!) but seemed to be at a medieval theme pub in the 1990s. Look how well 'Time Crashers' did a joust to see what is easily available these days even without CGI for the actual event (only to get the participants in and out).
The return to Skaro was a good idea. The 1960s version of the Dalek city was nice too. However, these were yet more fragments. All of the actors seemed lost in what was happening. It had turned from something that hinted at so much into a pile of 'if only' strips of story that were tossed away. There was the potential for an excellent opening episode and a number of middle-ranking ones. Yet what was chosen was tired, confused and down right embarrassing. I could almost feel the millions of people turning off.
I was not massively excited to see the new series of 'Doctor Who' on Saturday, but I did take time out to see it live. Ironically this was only for the woman who lives in my house, who has not watched it for eight years, to pause it because she was 'not ready'. Unlike some, I have been quite content with Peter Capaldi as the Doctor. I thought his first series was fine. The first series with a new actor in the role is always a bit lumpy. Perhaps only Christopher Eccleston came in without a hitch and then proved to have gone too quickly. Thus, I was expecting even better for Capaldi's second series. When I say an episode might be one of the worst ever, I have to say it has been a while since I saw those featuring Sylvester McCoy and so there might have been duller and/or more disjointed ones back then, that I have blotted out. I am, however, still, traumatised by the liquorice allsort man even now.
Back to Saturday's episode. The opening scene with the mix of biplane and bow-and-arrow and the revelation of the 'hand mines' did not disappoint. CGI has revolutionised television science fiction series. The reveal of who the boy in the mine field was, was excellent, really triggering a potential moral dilemma. I was happy. Then it was pushed aside. We had someone looking like they had come from 'Hellraiser' in a bar from the seedier side of Tatooine and then the Shadow Proclamation and so on. Yes, it might have reference Harry Potter a bit too much, but what was worse was how we got through so many good ideas very, very quickly, almost all of which could have been sufficient for an entire story. I am sure many fans were watching thinking how they might develop any one of these into a story. However, they were just tossed aside, not as a teaser but almost as if they were off-cuts from a script conference.
We got the frozen aeroplanes in the sky. I could buy this too. It felt a little Eccleston-era meets 'Torchwood' and 'Sarah Jane Adventures', but I was not averse to that. Clara leaping on a motorbike in a skirt and powering off to UNIT, well I guessed that was to keep the younger viewers on board who might be lost in all the darkness that had proceeded. Yet, again, another idea that could have sustained an entire episode was burnt up far too quickly.
Missy appearing in the dreariest of Spanish squares was more wasted content. From there it went down hill right to the bottom. So many potential stories had been discarded. The Doctor turning up with a guitar and a tank, trying to riff on 'Back to the Future' was an embarrassment. He was supposed to be in 1138 CE (and no-one calls it AD these days!) but seemed to be at a medieval theme pub in the 1990s. Look how well 'Time Crashers' did a joust to see what is easily available these days even without CGI for the actual event (only to get the participants in and out).
The return to Skaro was a good idea. The 1960s version of the Dalek city was nice too. However, these were yet more fragments. All of the actors seemed lost in what was happening. It had turned from something that hinted at so much into a pile of 'if only' strips of story that were tossed away. There was the potential for an excellent opening episode and a number of middle-ranking ones. Yet what was chosen was tired, confused and down right embarrassing. I could almost feel the millions of people turning off.
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