Say Good Night Ms. Edna

Aristotle said that, in order to lead a solitary life, one would have to be either an animal or a god. Nietzsche added a third alternative: one would have to be a philosopher.

Of late, I’m discovering that each of us has the capacity to be a philosopher, oftentimes, against our own will, as we navigate our way through the uncertainties of the surprising and unexpected. You chart a course, you think it sound and one day, without warning, it capsizes.  There is something deafening about change, probably because we are so ill-equipped to deal with it. Predictable patterns assuage and soothe, but change, that’s completely unacceptable, altogether different. And, certainly, not to be discussed in polite company.

It doesn’t take a refined mind or a discerning eye to realize that the author of this blog has undergone changes. For all those who have squinted their way through countless posts thank you and you’re many comments. I know many of you came here to bask in a bit of loveliness so it would be terribly gauche and ill-mannered of this author to expose you to the backdrops, the props and the unsightly scaffolding that, in more polished lives, remains unseen.

The real challenge

is not simply to survive.

Hell, anyone can do that.

It’s to survive as yourself,

undiminished.

~Dianna Vreeland

“…and for the last bloody time, John, I'm not your housekeeper!”

~Mrs. Hudson

Sherlock Holmes series 4 was having something of a moment - a mind bending fourth outing of the much acclaimed BBC series. Trashed, beaten, and hung out to dry by the critics, I have remained rather fond of the series and its cast.

Penned by an award-winning team, Holmes and Watson have been re-imagined for the twenty-first century.  The writing has been breathtakingly original and utterly hilarious. 

Policeman: 

Do you have *any* idea what speed you were going at?

Mrs. Hudson: 

No, of course not! I was on the phone.

Quite clearly, this is not a Holmes and Watson for purists, but it is one of the funniest programs I've followed for ages. It's quirky, witty, and fast-paced and, whilst unmistakably irreverent, manages to tug its forelock in the direction of the Conan-Doyle creation on which it depends.

It's gifted physical comedy, as well as cleverly scripted, and I could not think of a better, quicker way of catapulting myself out of the beginning of the New Year slough of despondency than to have spent a few hours watching this unique show.

And so, on to “The Fabulous Baker Street Babes (fast cars & loose cardigans?)” episode 1.

The long dark teatime of the soul,

recent reads worth mentioning.

Devastation Road

Say 'road novel' or 'road movie' to anyone, and you'll likely get Kerouac's 'On the Road' or 'Thelma and Louise' or 'Easy Rider', or even 'The Grapes of Wrath' as an answer or some other example which makes the genre seem uniquely American. But the road or journey as a narrative form has its roots much earlier than that, in Homer's Odyssey, or Virgil's Aeneid - a hero sets out on an often perilous journey, survival by no means guaranteed, but when the destination is finally attained, he will have learned something about himself and the world he lives in.

Devastation Road is such a Bildungsroman: an Englishman wakes up in a field somewhere in Europe in the last days of World War II.  He doesn't know who or where he is, only that he is lost, and has lost his memory. He meets Janek, a Czech teenager, and despite not speaking the other's language, they manage to piece together enough to discover they share a common cause: the urge to learn the fate of their respective brothers. They start walking, like the millions of other displaced persons in 1945 - which feels incredibly potent in the context of the current refugee crisis - in search of safety, and in Owen's case particularly, in search of identity.

It's a meticulously researched novel - Hewitt took the physical journey his protagonists take in the novel and also learned to speak Czech - but it's Hewitt's ability to conjure the intense, vivid, claustrophobic confusion of a Europe broken apart by war and to deftly explore themes of identity, nationhood, and the extremes to which desperate people are driven in a bid to survive, that gives Devastation Road its narrative impact.

The Improbability of Love

Hannah Rothschild, documentary film maker, writer and Chair of the National Gallery. Her first novel, The Improbability of Love, is a vivid satire of the art world, where the stakes are so high, people are inevitably compelled to behave in an unbecoming manner. It tells the story of Annie McDee, sweet, single and skint, recovering from the disappointment of a failed relationship, who buys a grimy, unprepossessing painting in a junk shop. Little does she know it's 'The Improbability of Love' a lost masterpiece by Antoine Watteau, one of the great painters of the 18th Century. We're drawn immediately into a cut-throat and deeply glamorous world, peopled by exiled oligarchs, billionaire collectors and unscrupulous dealers, the super wealthy and the avaricious, all of whom would do anything to possess the painting. 

Transformation?

Is Donald Trump a throwback to a time when leaders were dictators, war was noble and women were property?  I think that is the wrong question.

What is happening in our country is not limited to Trump's candidacy. It is bigger. Think global. "The Chrysalis Effect: The Metamorphosis of Global Culture" — the last book by the sociologist Philip Slater — gave me the means to analyze and to realize what is at stake.

High praise? Try this…

“The Chrysalis Effect' is the most brilliant tour de force of this decade. It is, and will continue to be, the most powerful and original analysis of this century's planetary vertigo. Without exaggeration, Slater's path-breaking illumination of our global 'state of mind' can be compared only with the work of a Gibbon, or Toynbee or Plutarch. It's that profound and should be the most widely read book for years to come.”   ~Warren Bennis