knitting with dog hair

The Diagram Prize is awarded by The Bookseller each year to the book with the oddest title. To give you an example it was won last year by If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start with Your Legs by Big Boom (is there a separate prize for the oddest author's name?). This year they're casting back over past winners, much like the Booker of Bookers, to find the oddest of the odd, or Diagram of Diagrams. The Guardian has an article here and a pictorial selection which can be found here so you can pick your personal favourite. As someone who is constantly removing cat hair from clothing and carpets I feel inspired by the book above to create a new wardrobe. Failing that I could always read Highlights in the History of Concrete.

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when revolutions die

Human Love
by Andreï Makine

Although born in Russia Andreï Makine sought asylum in France, writes in French and has won both the Prix Goncourt and the Prix Medicis, Frances top literary prizes, with his novel La Testament Français (published in English as Dreams of My Russian Summers) . Whilst I found that book a little sentimental I did enjoy the romanticism of his last novel The Woman Who Waited and the spare brilliance of A Life's Music. Makine is unashamedly romantic and unafraid of making bold gestures in his writing; the stakes are always high and the themes fundamental to human existence. The title of his latest novel covers the two biggies: what it means to be human, and love. He has widened his landscape in this tale which takes us from the political unrest of west Africa to the frozen wastes of Russia and gives a unique perspective on Africa during the turbulent 1960's and 70's through the eyes of Angolan revolutionary Elias Almeida. It is a view of the world both painful and uplifting, focusing again on the fundamentals, 'When under threat, our existence is laid bare and we are shocked by the stark simplicity of what drives it.'

The novel is actually narrated by a Russian writer who shared a cell with Almeida; who in fact took Almeida for dead and tried to steal a pen from his body, the pen with which he writes the book we are reading, of course. As a child in Angola, Almeida had seen his mother prostitute herself and left to die after an interrogation which leaves her with a broken collarbone poking through her skin. This image keeps returning to him and his need to erase it helps form his belief in making a world where such a thing couldn't happen. When he goes to find his father in the jungles of the Congo he is caught up in the revolutionary zeal of one of the men there; a certain Ernesto Guevara. With his youth and the words of the Argentine ringing in his ears he sees revolution as the means to transform the way the world loves. 'For what is the point of such liberating turmoil if it does not radically change the way we understand and love our fellow human beings?'.

It is the very opposite that brings him face to face with the woman who will haunt his life. Whilst in Moscow, having been recruited by the Russians, he is attacked by racist thugs but saved from a beating by Anna, a beautiful Russian. The two of them follow a doomed trajectory through the history of Soviet sponsored political ferment. This is a theme familiar from his previous work; lovers separated by circumstance and yet connected by their love. That in this case the love is unconsummated shows that in this period of ideology it is perfect for a man like Almeida to carry that through his struggles. In this novel, against such a volatile backdrop, love is shown to be a far more fragile concept than before. The characters, Almeida in particular, are placed in such peril that it is never certain what contact if any they may have with each other again. The scenes of violence in Africa are particularly brutal (much like the film The Last King of Scotland), the image of a child soldier wearing a broken gas mask waving a gun through the bars of their cell showing clearly the tenuous grasp we all hold on life and the capriciousness of death. Another startling image is that of a woman raped by the UNITA soldiers holding Almeida and our narrator captive. As she lies dying they search her mouth to find the rough diamonds she has concealed there, the reason for her silence during their assault. Her bruised and violated body not only corporeal but standing as a metaphor for what is happening to the country itself.

Makine returns to themes and images again and again, their import changed each time by what has happened in the interim. Some may find this is simply repetitive but it has the power to show the danger of not learning from history, even within our own lifetime. Even the thought of return itself is a recurring theme.

'When death stares us coolly in the eye we perceive that in our lives there have been a few hours of sunlight or darkness, a few faces to which we return continually, and that what has kept us alive, in fact, is the simple hope of finding them again.'

This novel is a brave undertaking, not simply by Makine but by the reader as well. You may not like the world he depicts but it is after all the one we live in. As with any novel that tackles such huge ideas it is prone to the odd clunky moment but there is lots to admire. Almeida remembers the safety of burying his face in the crook of his mother's arm. It is a comfort you may wish for yourself after completing this harrowing journey.

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The Dark Knight

Thank god it's good. After all the hype and the inevitable media frenzy after the unfortunate death of Heath Ledger this film had so much weight bearing down on it I was worried that Batman might not fly after all. Christopher Nolan's second film is a dark, complex and allegorical work which gives blockbusters a good name and breathes life into a character which might never have recovered from the diminishing returns of the films from the nineties.

As Alfred says, Batman must 'endure' and it shows what an endurable character he is that with each successive incarnation there is something fresh to be said about the society we live in. The phrase 'post 9/11' is bandied about nowadays to mean all sorts of things but it is clear in this film that New York, oh I'm sorry, I mean Gotham City is traumatised and trying to find a way to deal with terror. Again it is Alfred, in a touching performance from Michael Cane, who explains that 'some men just want to watch the world burn' and how terrifying to be up against an adversary who can't be reasoned with and doesn't mind if you kill him in the process. Heath Ledger is indeed impressive in his role as the Joker; the make-up there like war paint to intimidate, the rough scars showing underneath (but with us unclear as to how they got there) and, with his rough voice breaking to reveal that unmistakeable cackle, a genuinely chilling psychopath. That the film's length doesn't drag is in part due to his performance but also to his devious character which allows Nolan to elongate the plot with the ingenious Joker one step ahead of Batman, the police and the city itself.

The acting is strong throughout. Bale growls his way through more action and smarms away as Bruce Wayne. The soul searching about what makes a hero, or indeed what a hero can be was a little heavy handed for me but Batman is after all not a super hero, just a man, albeit not like us. Maggie Gyllenhall brings far more to the role vacated by Katie Holmes and Aaron Eckhart is solid as Gotham's white knight Harvey Dent. Gary Oldman is great again in a role which could easily have been filled by a corpulent character actor and shows us what is at stake for so many of Gotham's residents. Nolan continues his serious approach to the production creating a complicated thriller which feels more like a film by Michael Mann than a comic book blockbuster. He's left things finely poised for a third movie having set up Batman to be whatever Gotham needs him to be. Hero or villain. Let's just hope that he does return.

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The Wire - Season Three

Look at the picture above and you will notice something. Avon and Stringer, together in the same car, but looking in different directions. That tells you all you need to know about these two 'brothers' in season three of The Wire. Whilst Stringer is greasing palms to make the most of the properties they control Avon is glad to be back in the game, keeping control of the corners, and regaining his place on the street. Season three brings us back to the problem of drugs in Baltimore and one man's plan to combat the problem. Major Colvin jokes at one stage that to meet the crime reduction targets he has been set he is going to legalise drugs. But his throwaway comment isn't too far from the truth. By creating zones where a blind eye will be turned on drug dealing and use, he hopes to clean up the corners, concentrate the problem in specific areas and make it easier to target those wrongdoers when the time is right. What it allows the series to explore is the wide web that drugs cast in society, how it affects those directly involved in their production, selling, use and abuse; everyone from the kids used as lookouts to the lone elderly woman who finds herself the only resident in one of these 'free zones'.

Daniels and his now permanent detail have a much harder task to gain any useful information from a wire as the drug crews have become far more cautious about how they use phones, and with their communication in general. This means that we get to enjoy the complications of the police work again, just as in the first series, but with added layers. In fact layers are being added in all aspects of the programme allowing the series to show what TV can do better than any other medium. Given the extended time of several hour-long episodes we are seeing characters rendered in the kind of detail which is usually the reserve of the novelist. It isn't simply time that allows this, but the amazingly high standard of writing and performance. Characters aren't given vast speeches to show personality, just the right words; and the actors deliver them perfectly. Relationships within the police team and the implications of the work on their personal lives (and vice versa) create wonderful tensions. These are mirrored on the other side of the legal divide with the drug crews.

On top of all of that we have the character of the city itself. Baltimore is depicted in great detail; the various districts feel very different to one another, requiring differing approaches from the police. The interplay between politics, policing, media and residents is given great prominence in this series. Everyone is checking their back, as an air of intrigue and suspicion worthy of Shakespeare hangs over proceedings. The introduction of Aiden Gillen (another actor from this side of the water) as Tommy Corcetti, a young and ambitious council man, is significant. I just hope he relaxes into his role. His reptilian stare is right but he looks a little nervous at the moment, like he's really concentrating on getting the accent right. He's a fantastic actor though so I'm not too concerned. The skullduggery is also obvious amongst, and indeed within, the drug crews too of course and it is that increasing body count which keeps the heat on the police and the wind in the sails of this superlative series. Bring on season four.

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Grizzly Bear - Yellow House

Grizzly Bear - Plans

Huge thanks to James Dalrymple who has a blog, Demob Happy, covering music, film and fiction and who recommended Grizzly Bear to me after reading my reviews of Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver. I can see why he mentioned them to me in conjunction with those two outfits, it's in the alt-country/folk mould but with some electronic influence as you might expect from an album released by the label Warp. What I've been really impressed by is the complexity, as I listen to the album again and again I hear something new each time. There are West Coast harmonies and folky strummings but a wide range of instrumentation that includes flutes, clarinets and many other classical instruments too. The singing is not as clearly beautiful as that on Fleet Foxes début but with all four members of the band contributing differing styles it is in some ways more interesting.

A track like Lullabye which begins with acoustic guitars and a melody The Beatles would have been happy with is soon subverted by discordant guitar, chanted vocals and a musical crescendo which makes you realise how misleading the title is. The lyrics too unsettle, what do they mean when they sing 'My love's another kind'. Central and Remote is another track that contains surprising power as they sing about how 'Pressing matters bear', the darkness lifted by soaring vocal harmonies. Little Brother sounds like standard folk until stomps and handclaps lift it and lush vocals take it into the realms of film-score beauty. Plans is a good example of the electronic influences which help take the simple whistled melody into a landscape populated by beeps, whistles and a big brass section; the song fracturing at the end under the weight of its many parts. The track I keep being haunted by is Marla which with its old piano and string accompaniment creates a beautiful and yet very creepy feel, like walking into an empty house to find a piano playing itself and quiet voices echoing down the hall.

The album was in fact recorded in Ed Droste's mother's house (the eponymous Yellow House) so perhaps that has something to do with my thoughts. There's certainly a lot going on musically, which means that with headphones on your mind can go on some very interesting journeys. It can meander at times or dissolve into the kind of vague psych-noodling that carries a waft of patchouli in the air but all in all it makes for an atmospheric album which really delivers when listened to from beginning to end. Thanks again to James for making me aware. That's what blogging's all about, isn't it?

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