Wednesday 15 December 2010

new haiku book

Haiku At Seventy my new collection from Anarchios Press (see website) was launched successfully at the gallery and bar of the beautifully refurbished Exeter Picturehouse on December 8th. This proved to be a very enjoyable occasion. Despite quite a few people unable to get there (snow and ice around Dartmoor area in particular), over fifty did turn up, bought books and said how much they'd enjoyed the reading. (Their reactions were especially welcome, as I'd felt I had a hard job to equal, if not top, the reading at the Dylan Thomas Centre, Swansea, on fireworks night, as mentioned in earlier blog.) Friendship and euphoria alike are all too often fleeting: who said that? It has an alliterative ring about it, but I think it's actually a fugitive line of mine from some unwritten poem… Anyway, I'm blessed with some lovely friends, two of whom were staying over with us, and so being a septuagenarian doesn't worry me unduly: I want us all to live as long and happily as possible, compos mentis and in decent health. Keep well all of you, and remember it's books not blogs and poems not politicians, that will survive.

Tuesday 16 November 2010

Catching up, new book, film fun, etc

Lapsed grievously (no it's not RC guilt!), in not having written up the blog for exactly 2 months. But much has happened during that time, of course: inspiring – rescued Chilean miners; sad but inevitable – deaths of Tony Curtis and Joan Sutherland; gruesome and/or surreal – the Pope's visit to UK; and the usual depressing jawjaw deadlock between Israel and the Palestinians, as mediated/invigilated by an increasingly powerless Obama administration, biassed as always in favour of the occupiers… But enough of World-stuff and Large Issues.

We've been to visit friends in St Ives, Paris and Wales during this time, and have also produced a new book Haiku At Seventy, which will be launched at Exeter Picture House on 8th December: if anyone out there happens to be local – you're very welcome to come along! (The newly refurbished Picture House, with its fine bar/café/gallery is indeed impressive.) I'm very much in the mood to read again after some recent gigs, especially the latest, at the Dylan Thomas Literature Festival on Guy Fawkes Night. A full house and lovely, lively audience, with fireworks over Swansea docks as a spectacular backdrop!

This is a necessarily brief post, but I'll end with another weird and wonderful recommendation, the newly released dvd of Andrzej Zulawski's extraordinary 1981 film Possession. This manages to combine psychodrama, horror, politics and is filmed stunningly in Berlin's Turkish area, Kreuzberg, in sight of the dreadful Wall. It has one of the most ferocious and bravely committed performances by a film actress that I've ever seen: Isabelle Adjani giving her all! The performances, script and photography are all, shall we say, striking, while the emotional and physical mayhem, after 30 years, remain gorily convincing, the special effects still awesome. Adjani got a deserved Best Actress award at Cannes, but the film was regrettably butchered (by half its length!) in the USA, and greeted with general incomprehension and supercilious moral outrage elsewhere. But Zulawski, a longtime Polish exile in Paris, is a considerable and very intelligent filmmaker, as anyone who checks out the fascinating extras and interviews on the dvd will soon learn. I've already previously praised Z's earlier film The Third Part Of The Night, but it now seems that this new, full-length version of Possession (not to be confused with a later novel of that title by boring Dame Byatt) will reach a wider audience and transcend its earlier reputation as a lost, cultish film maudit. Fair enough: it's a dark classic of sorts, a flawed gem, but a gem nonetheless.

Thursday 16 September 2010

Purveyors of tripe, literary and other

Just been reading an unspeakably dreadful book I found in our library. (Why did they order it and why did I bother? Not sure, but if I manage to put a few people off this abomination, I shall have performed a literary-critical service, that's for sure!) Between The Sheets, by one Lesley McDowell, is subtitled The Literary Liaisons of Nine 20th Century Women Writers. And yes, you guessed it, I was curious to check out the chapter [fourth out of nine] on Jean Rhys.

But in all fairness, I did read the book through with growing exasperation and speed (for one can't, at my age, afford to waste too much precious time on clumsy and shambolic drivel). Here then is a brief taste of this fanciful, ill-written, appallingly proofed, shoddily 'edited' and wildly misbegotten tome. Katherine Mansfield, "possibly the greatest short story writer in the English language rivals masters of the art like Chekhov". H.D. produced "some of the most brilliant poetry of the twentieth century". Elizabeth Smart was "author of one of the greatest works on love ever written." Hemingway and Martha Gellhorn "were a literary Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, the Posh and Becks of American letters". Phooey, piffle and codswallop, of course, and therefore hilarious passim. Who is she, this sublimely insouciant humourist, perhaps one of the funniest of the 21st century?

Ms McDowell, we learn from the jacket, is a young literary journalist who writes for the TLS and the Independent on Sunday; she's gleaned "a Scottish Arts Council award for her second novel" and "earned a Ph.D. for her work on James Joyce". Wow, all very impressive. Yet I do hope her clunky, turgid style eventually improves, and hope too that, however assiduous her future researches may be, her accuracy and fact-checking prove less slipshod. It's pretty clear that Ms McD. never met or knew the people about whom she blithely pontificates and fantasises, but that of course needn't necessarily be a stumbling-block to the litcrit faculty. The trouble is, all this pretentious pseudo-feminist tosh is relentlessly recycled, fifth and sixth-hand stuff, as the citations and bibliography make clear: the devil is very much in the detail here. And boy, does the girl get those details wrong! One example (I can't bear to trawl through this 365pp. weighty tome looking for more, but just take my word for it): Dr McDowell imagines that Sleep It Off, Lady is a Jean Rhys novel.

Well I did happen to know four or five of the excellent writers selected for her tendentious generalisations, and so found both style and content doubly depressing. Libelling and labelling the dead is a cheery post mortem pastime, it seems, and perhaps now even a profitable one. As for this sort of slack, unappetising, fashionably speculative piece of trash, it's neither useful literary dissection nor detection. I'm really rather relieved that my own two books about Jean Rhys are apparently unknown to McDowell. She does, though, draw upon the equally fanciful, if marginally better written, recent 'portrait' of Jean by Lilian Pizzichini, whose The Blue Hour (2008) seems to derive its title and some other biographical angles via pp. 233-4 of my first book about Jean, Jean Rhys revisited (2000). Pizzichini was inevitably lauded for her gushing middle-of-the-road fabrications by the dreadful Sunday Times panjandrum and hackademic, Professor John Carey (for whom, see also pp. 149-151 of JRr). But she did deign to mention my memoir of Jean, even though the publication was listed incorrectly… As to the whole issue of spurious criticism and tired, sensation-seeking books about 'fascinating personalities' who reportedly behave in a larger than life, bold or 'bohemian' manner, we've surely had enough of them: save the trees, for heavens' sake!

Sunday 5 September 2010

Polish And Hungarian Movies

We caught up with a couple more Second Run dvds of Central European movies, both Cannes Special Jury prizewinners: the Polish Mother Joan Of The Angels (d. Jerzy Kawalerowicz, 1961) and the Hungarian Diary For My Children (d. Márta Mészáros, 1984). What else do these have in common, apart from their powerful originality, terrific B&W photography and excellent acting? Well, they're both about ideology and dogma : religious superstition and sexual repression in the former film, political corruption and state control in the latter. Of course both directors therefore incurred suspicion and criticism within their respective countries, losing work and opportunities as a result. Both were married to actors and directors, after training at film schools; progressing from editing and writing scripts to direction, they became highly professional and original filmmakers.

Based loosely on the French 1634 Loudun 'possession' case, MJOTA is appropriately intense and claustrophobic and far more worthwhile than the often risible Ken Russell flick from the 1970s. Kawalerowicz died in his eighties, a few years ago, and is now largely forgotten, his other films currently out of circulation. Mészáros's Diary is highly autobiographical, and has been called "an unusually graphic picture of Hungarian political, cultural and social life in the late 1940s". Both films, dealing as they do with eras 300 years apart, offer grim yet convincing, almost coldly-observed perspectives on gullibility and fanaticism. Not feelgood entertainment by any means, but still very relevant and provocative today. (Think Papal visits, holy hypocrisy, personality cults, self-serving memoirs by corrupt politicians, etc!)

Monday 30 August 2010

Another European Gem

Catching up with more impressive European cinema, this time the Austrian film Revanche. This dates from 2007, and was made by a director new to me, Götz Spielmann. I learned that it beat Haneke's White Ribbon and Audiard's A Prophet to the Foreign Language Oscars a while back, so you can guess the quality! At several minutes under 2 hours, there isn't a shot wasted, whereas it must be said that its main rivals that year were both rather too long, and compared to Revanche both seemed almost ponderous. This highly original, shocking and yet understated thriller feels rather Bressonian (than which there's hardly higher praise) in its spare, concentrated and unrelenting way. The performances seem less like acting than existing-on-the-screen; the motivations are entirely believable; the twists-and-turns of the plot are unpredictable but inevitable. Shots are held for just as long as they need to be, and the editing is terrific. The film grips and involves from start to finish: it's provocative, moving and highly recommended. Another excellent (2010) dvd release from the now long-established distribution outfit Artificial Eye.

Friday 20 August 2010

Second Runs indeed!

Some amazing films from Central Europe 1969-71 – once banned for a whole generation, then hailed and garlanded with praise and prizes post-1989 – have resurfaced during the new millennium as DVDs. These, along with fine extras, booklets, commentaries and interviews, stem from a company called Second Run, which should be congratulated and supported.

Two Czech gems, first of all. Jan Nemec's terrific debut Diamonds of the Night (1964). WW2 with a pair of young men escaping from a deportation train. Gritty B&W cinematography and a physically gruelling yet hallucinatory experience throughout its very economical running time. Nemec was only 28, and his career suffered badly after the 1968 Soviet invasion. He was allowed to leave, to France in 1974, had a difficult period there and went to the USA – since when, apart from a credit as consultant on The Unbearable Lightness Of Being, his career unfortunately seems to have almost petered out.

The Ear (Ucho) (1970) by an older film maker Karel Kachyna, is if anything even more harrowing and technically accomplished. This is a ferocious masterpiece (think of one of Ingmar Bergman's dissections of a marriage, plus a strong anti-totalitarian theme!) Time Out called it "by far the best of the Czech movies banned when Dubcek was toppled in 1969… the bitterest and most scathing account of what it takes to get ahead in a Communist bureaucracy." It's also one of the earliest but still most frightening, concise and creepily effective films about bugging: by comparison, movies like The Conversation and The Lives Of Others seem unconvincing commercial compromises that use well-known actors and reach neatly reassuring middle-of-the road conclusions. Kachyna (1924-2004) stayed in Czechoslovakia, despite this, his best work, being banned until after the Velvet Revolution, 20 years later. He then got his old job back at Prague Film Academy and made features and TV films till his death, though never with the force, assurance or eventual success of The Ear, which like Nemec's film belatedly won prizes at festivals here and there when it resurfaced…

A few excellent Czech filmmakers such as Jiri Menzel of Closely Observed Trains also stayed put, experiencing many difficult years of state disapproval, limbo and/or censorship; others, like Forman and Passer, took off via France and New York and ended up in Hollywood, with varying degrees of success. Best of all their emigré products is perhaps the finest film Ivan Passer ever directed, a poignant and gripping thriller called Cutter's Way (1981). It's adapted from a neglected noir classic, Newton Thornburg's novel Cutter And Bone: both film and book are highly recommended and both have stood the test of time, like all the works mentioned above.

Last but by no means least, the Polish director Andrzej Zulawski's stunning debut, an original masterpiece from 1971, The Third Part Of The Night. In superb colour, and with some quite extraordinary handheld camerawork (which incidentally, doesn't give you a headache, despite the fact that there was no steadicam then, and cameras weighed a ton!), this is a terrifying and terrific piece of work. Supervised by the great Andrzej Wajda – who had supported and worked with so many contemporaries and younger colleagues from the famous Lodz film school, Polanski, Munk, etc – TTPOTN seems hallucinatory enough, but is actually almost documentary to the core. In fact, this film, co-written by Zulawski and his father Miroslaw, is closely based on the latter's horrific wartime experiences. (Certain sequences involving lice, for instance, are not for the squeamish: if Lautréamont were a filmmaker alive today, this section of the film, and its apocalyptic, anti-authoritarian, sardonic tone would surely have appealed to him!) But it seems that Zulawski, born in the 1940s and thus the youngest of these three masterly Central European film directors, then ran into career problems similar to those encountered by most of the other filmmakers mentioned above. By all accounts he has never quite matched this first, shattering classic. He too moved to Paris and continues to make films there. I've ordered a copy of Possession (1981) his horror movie featuring Isabelle Adjani, Sam Neill and Fassbinder's Margit Carstensen, and shall expect some effective grand guignol gruesomeness, even if it can't rival his brilliant early achievement.

We watched these three superb works recently, having borrowed them from our excellent city Library. So, little Cleggerons and Camerleggs, whichever ambitious and uninformed bureaucrat within your fudging "coalition" is charged with cutting supposedly expensive luxuries – those perceived as soft targets (eg. literature and the performing arts) – kindly do not chop, or further squeeze, funding for the UK's hitherto wonderful public libraries! And on the subject of libraries and library borrowing, why be so miserably stingy year by year with Public Lending Right? If, in times of such austerity, the UK can still afford to finance distant, interminable and pointless wars, and to pour money into really useful and/or deprived areas like Trident, banker's bonuses, and the Pope's forthcoming visit, then why should books and films – so much less destructive and more enjoyable – miss out?

Monday 12 July 2010

Politicians And Significant Others

Both of us snailed and emailed letters – to our recently re-elected New Labourite MP Ben Bradshaw and to new Deputy PM Libdem Nick Clegg. And we both subsequently received two-page, very nearly identical replies, electronic and hardcopy! How interesting that this 'form-letter' or official handout statement, or whatever one can call such a fudging, bland piece of hypocritical guff, should be the 'official' cross-party, Whitehall line on… guess what? The IDF's brutality toward the Palestinians and against anyone trying to bring humanitarian aid to refugees, of course!

Never mind the killings and ill-treatment of those on board the recent flotilla headed for Gaza, never mind the continuing illegality of Israel's occupation-annexation of the so-called Holy Land, international critics can continue to be ignored and/or conveniently dismissed as antisemitic, if there is even a whisper of protest against Zionist attacks on defenceless civilians.

As to the vicious racism and destruction involved, I can recommend Ben White's extraordinary and illuminating book, Israeli Apartheid: A Beginner's Guide. Anyone interested in the Middle East and indeed in the future of world peace should read it! A review of the book originally caught my eye when I saw it in that fearless and provocative publication The Spokesman, founded by Bertrand Russell. Its distinguished editor for many years, Ken Coates, died only a couple of weeks ago. He will be remembered with considerable affection and respect by those who never actually met him, among them myself. I've contributed (haiku) to the magazine for some years and have been reading it for longer. I did correspond with Ken though: as with his writings in general, even his briefest communications radiated humour, compassion, dislike of lies and injustice, and an outspoken honesty. The decent, uncompromising and uncompromised Left will miss him greatly.

Wednesday 7 July 2010

Berlin and on

A wonderful swelteringly hot week in Berlin a month ago. Our artist friends' flat in Friedrichshain, in the former East, overlooks a big tree-lined square, on which there are two huge markets every week. Cafés, bars and excellent small restaurants surround the square itself, the streets are cobbled, and there are more bikes, tattoos and original outfits to be seen than anywhere else I've been in the last twenty years. Art galleries, craft shops, studios abound – mostly friendly and unpretentious: in the best sense, its a cheap and cheerful area, as is the city as a whole (about half the price of living in London, and the UK generally!) As for the exhibitions and museums, these were wonderful, and given our limited time and energy, we had to pick and choose carefully. No question about our two top favourites, however: the largest show of Frida Kahlo's work ever assembled, on at the Martin-Gropius-Bau, and well worth an hour's queuing to get in. And the Käthe Kollwitz house and museum. Wonderful gutsy leftwing women and great artists both, by any standards. Also, elsewhere, in a couple of mixed exhibitions of well-known 2oth century names (Gabo, Dix, Beckmann, Grosz, Heartfield etc) we discovered a third terrific woman artist, whose life-span was almost exactly the same as dear Jean Rhys's: this was Jeanne Mammen (1890-1976), well worth checking out.

Monday 31 May 2010

Catching Up

Why haven't I blogged since last December?! Well, real life as opposed to screen-life caught up with me, I turned 70 in January and enjoyed a terrific party (about 80 people in a small house) organised for me by dear Maggie. She also completely surprised me with a wonderful festschrift cum birthday book to which 40 friends old and new contributed: this she produced brilliantly, in around 3-4 weeks just before xmas '09, with invaluable aid from the indefatigable Francophile and techno-wiz Ken Clay, editor of the wonderful Crazy Oik magazine, and webmeister co-editor of the equally splendid Penniless Press.

All this took quite some time to recover from. Then a couple of extra birthday treats, long- anticipated and early booked in 2009 – for January (Lisbon) and April (St Petersburg) – never got off the ground (thanks to snow and volcanic ash respectively). These unavoidable cancellations resulted both times in unexpected but delightful stays in London, with M and I ligging around, seeing various friends, exhibitions etc and enjoying some unplanned and very pleasant times. 

Since then, a stream of visitors to Exeter from France, Germany, Australia, and elsewhere, have made for a highly social year, all of which excitement hasn't prevented my writing quite a few new poems. A sizeable pamphlet of new haiku will come next, written since Haiku Of Five Decades last year, while a further full collection covering the last few years is also ready.

Less happily, quite a few friends, relatives and acquaintances have died during these last few months and various others are being treated for serious illnesses. (New Year resolutions to drink less and walk more, kept sporadically: seize the time is more like it!) But the year had begun dismally with massacres in Gaza; now, as May turns to June, the IDF has just attacked the convoy of peace ships, the international flotilla attempting to bring humanitarian aid and supplies to an area that has so long been suffering under Zionist blockade. Deaths and more suffering are the inevitable result, and the Israelis don't seem to realise or care that their illegal occupation and cruel bullying tactics continue to lose them the goodwill of most of the rest of the world. On which sombre note I'll close: I've signed petitions, written to Messrs Clegg, Hague and others, but verbal tut-tutting is not enough. What else can be done? BDS for a start – Boycotts, Divestment, Sanctions – yet have our (or any) politicians the guts to demand or organise such action against Israel? I doubt it, though similar moves helped bring an end to apartheid in South Africa. Meanwhile we must all protest and hope brute force does not in the long run prevail.