Rob Wickings's Blog, page 11
October 21, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 36
Two weeks before Halloween, and it feels like there is a curse on the House Of Wickings. Two family members have been in hospital, one leaving yesterday with a brand new shoulder. Another is in Poland, his luggage at Heathrow. One more fell in a fishing lake. I’ve been slapped with a cut in hours as the SAG-ACTRA strike rolls on into the autumn. It’s annoying, but at least I get an extra day off a week in November—handy with Nanowrimo coming up.
You take the little victories where you can. Hope you’re all having a better time of it than me and mine.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
The New Tomorrows, a 1971 anthology edited by Norman Spinrad. The New Worlds revolution in SF in the late sixties led to a fresh, controversy-baiting style which is probably my favourite. Less space opera, more Hawkwind-style space-rock. Spinrad curates a nice little roster, including the enfants terrible of the day like Michael Moorcock, Samuel R. Delaney and Harlan Ellison. The collection feels tight, sharp and clean—a real statement of intent. Happy to pass it on when I’m done if anyone’s interested…
Rob is watching…
Music Videos That Take Place In Outer Space
That’s the tweet.
Rob is listening…
Lol Tolhurst, ex-Cure and freshly minted elder statesman of Goth, has teamed up with the heartbeat of Siouxie And The Banshees Budgie on a striking new partnership. Big, beaty and moody, it’s perfect spooky season soundtracking.
Rob is eating…
I excavated a kale and chickpea stew from the freezer this week, which had become victim to the ‘I made this but I don’t want to eat it’ attitude that has led to all sorts of peculiar slumgullions lurking in the depths of the cold box.. Warmed through with some pre-cooked lamb shoulder and a hit of cumin and chili, the stew was pretty tasty, once turned out over rice with a samosa on the side. A meal which suited the turning of the seasons. Hearty, warm, nurturing, simple. Dunno why I’d waited so long.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
The Peckham Conker Championships
Purists may sneer at the advent of the new range of fast-firing mini pizza ovens from brands like Ooni. OK for home use they say, but they won’t cut the mustard when it comes to restaurant-quality.
I disagree. Reading stalwarts like Sarv’s Slice pay attention to a great dough and thoughtfully compiled toppings, turning out delicious results. These portable ovens make pop-up pizza a real possibility, and democratize the process for those budding pizzaiolas who lack the funds or space for a huge brick firebox.
My fascination on language as a changing and evolving process took another tickle this week. It seems that the international community of scientists and workers at Antarctica have, completely organically and without anyone really noticing, developed a new accent.
A great, long-ranging interview with the Funny Girl herself in this month’s Vanity Fair. Barbra tells brilliant stories, spills tea with gleeful abandon and seems like just a fantastic person to spend some time with. I get the feeling you wouldn’t want to get on her wrong side, though.
The Ninth Art lost Keith Giffen this week. He was as rumbunctious in life as in his comics work, which included a hugely influential run on Justice League (now his version would have made a cracking movie) and the creation of my favourite surreal, fourth-wall breaking alien, Ambush Bug. I loved Keith’s writing and scrappy, European-inflected art which had elements of Hugo Pratt and the Galaxy’s Greatest, Carlos Ezquerra. We’ll always have the laughter, Keith.
I hope you haven’t already seen this story of a con-woman, her mark, a reporter and her editor and the web in which they all got tangled. If not, settle in and enjoy the ride. It’s a long read but I pretty much guarantee you won’t see the end coming.
Modern fantasy, especially the sword-and-sorcery type, may feel like it’s been around for ever. But, lest we forget, Tolkien’s work emerged just after WW2, and the books which have firmed up the image of what fantasy reads and looks like were released much more recently than we remember. One man is really responsible for the revolution. Introducing Lester Del Rey.
A lovely little strip from Reddit user r/emberfoxglow, which shows how an idea and a mood can take you to very far-off places. The art is simple, but the story is anything but. Big mythic themes on offer here, Readership.
The list of the world’s 50 best bars is out. I see the over-all winner, Sips in Barcelona, offers their signature cocktail in a sculpture of two cupped hands. Like a burger on a plank wasn’t bad enough. Some interesting places in London, with Shoreditch as an epicentre, Satan’s Whiskers looks like a place I could hang.
But honestly, I’d be most at home in a joint like AC’s Bar And Grill. The idea of chicken fingers, a Rust Belt Manhattan and that jukebox speaks to my dreamy little soul.
Oh, and in case you were wondering…
…you can never prove that AC’s Bar and Grill isn’t real, but I know you’d never try. We both know the world is a better place if it is real.
Scott Hines
I go out for regular games nights with a writing pal, and she and the group always have new and surprising entertainments to bring to the table. Blokes would, I suspect, not be one to recommend to them.
Lastly, this story of how a quiet provincial school became an indie-rock hotbed in the 90s filled me with warmth and nostalgia. The can-do, let’s-put-on-the-show-right-here attitude is absolutely infectious and the clip of Andi Peters of Live And Kicking helping as a roadie is priceless. Shame The Lemonheads were so blasted when they finally hit the stage.
We Outro with Descartes a Kant, who provide the full package. Earwormy, proggy, stop-start Arte de Eurovision silliness. Play loud and on repeat.
See you in seven, true believers.
October 14, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 35
I used to live on Twitter. It was a place to hang, chat with friends, grab the latest news. It was the main way I’d shout about new drops on Excuses And Half Truths, then The Cut, then The Swipe. I was no power user with millions of followers, but it always felt a little bit like home.
Now, not so much. Xwitter or whatever it’s called now (I notice almost no-one uses the new name The Belligerent Landlord has given it) is increasingly broken. The loss of third-party apps, the inability to autopost from WordPress, all the tweaks and wrinkles which, in the search for profit, have tanked the platform’s usability and friendliness. I barely look at it now. I’m not sure I’ll ever shut down my presence there completely, but I’m a ghostly presence, looming out of the darkness at unexpected moments. If the rumours are true and a pay-gate is coming, I’ll be out.
I’ll always be here, of course. You can also find me on Threads and Insta as @conojito, on the fediverse as @wickings. In an exciting new move from my pals at WordPress, this here blog is now available on federated services as (deep breath) @excusesandhalftruths.com@excusesandhalftruths.com. Hope to see you there.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Creeping Jenny by Jeff Noon. The master of strange urban magical fiction goes folk horror, as his detective avatar John Nyquist searches for his missing father. The book is a slow burn, but the atmosphere sneaks up on you. The idea of a village ruled by the whims of a different saint every day is a good one. Well worth a go if you like weird fiction. Feel the tendril wrap gently around your wrist and draw you in.
Rob is watching…
Theo Jansen is at it again. His latest wind-powered beach-walker, or Strandbeest, is the product of years of experimentation into geometry, applied mechanics and the joy of the random. This year’s Beest is his biggest yet. Ethereal, otherworldly yet strangely gentle. There’s no sense of threat or danger, just a gentle glow of wonder.
Rob is listening…
To mashup masters The Kleptones, who dropped a couple of bangtastic sets at Glastonbury in June. As ever, you’ll know some of these tunes, others will come as a sweet surprise. Get loose, enjoy the ride.
Rob is eating…
Turns out you can make an excellent fish katsu out of those breaded cod fillets from the supermarket freezer. Cook as per packet instructions, slice on the diagonal and serve over rice or (as I did this week) noodles cooked in a sauce made from blocks of mellow Japanese curry and some coconut milk. A little shredded cabbage and spring onion on the side would be welcome. Quick, tasty, on trend.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
Yeah yeah, Angela and Carlos on Strictly, yeah yeah, not a bad Charleston. The original, from 1958’s Damn Yankees, is another level. Incidentally, it’s the only time Bob Fosse and Gwen Vernon danced together on screen. If you’re gonna do it, make it iconic.
ERT.
Wes Anderson’s Netflix adaptations of Ronald Dahl’s stories include a loving reproduction of the old misanthrope’s writing shed. I often hanker over something similar, especially as the weather closes in and the conservatory gets too chilly and dark in the mornings to work (to me, my tiny violin orchestra). Here’s a collection of outbuildings which house more than garden tools and an abundance of twine. Well jel of Bernard Shaw’s place.
The twenty-first century has seen conspiracy theories, the crazier the better, slide into the mainstream. Our ruling party have even started to adopt some of them as policy, an unspoken admission that they can’t fix the fundamental levers of society they broke. We all know someone at work, in our social and family circles who will blather on about 5G, vaccines or fifteen-minute cities given the slightest opportunities. The thing is, as Cory Doctorow makes clear, they’re right to be worried. Just not in the way they think…
I’ve always been a big fan of Birmingham-based writer Danny Smith, whose adventures have taken him to every pier in the UK and into the dark territories of his soul. We’ve collaborated on a couple of projects and I find his work striking, honest, ribald and truthful. His latest book takes him to Mexico, in search of the baddest dude of them all. Very strong recommend on this one. I’ve already pre-ordered.
Comics legend Joe Quesada’s Substack is full of good stuff. A lot of his stories relate back to family and friends, as lessons learned and life experience. This post, which talks about why his daughter didn’t follow him into the Realm Of The Ninth Art, sneaks a key point about creativity into a simple tale.
While we’re on the subject, Martin Brodsky has something to say about Embracing Uncertainty, a subject I banged on about a few weeks ago. He does it with a lot more style and grace than I did, but the core truth remains. Don’t be scared to mess up.
It’s unlikely you’ve heard of Andy Hayler, even as a committed foodie. I certainly hadn’t. Joe Bishop interviews him for The Fence, introducing us to a man of great knowledge, impeccable taste and strong bullshit detection. He may not have the floweriest of prose, but the reader is left in no doubt about where the good places are to be found. Not the UK, apparently…
We are firmly into Spooky Season now, so let’s embrace the darkness. Observable Radio is a perfect example of creepy podcasting. Headphones on, dim the lights. Get ready to feel the chills.
Libraries are important. I became the man I am between the stacks of literary churches in Woodford Green, Walthamstow and even the van which visited the village of Bar Hill near Cambridge once a fortnight. I love a book palace, no matter how humble. The Instagram account for the Milwaukee Public Library is a great example of how to get people interested and involved—funny and warm-hearted.
We’re all in a bubble to a certain extent, our knowledge spreading in a wide but shallow torus. We miss a lot, barriers of language and culture softly nudging us away from the bigger world around us. I found this overview of tech companies which have a reach most Western companies would kill for thoroughly enlightening. A few names may be familiar. But in general, don’t believe that there’s a stranglehold on social and shopping held by a few US-based companies. There’s more to it than that.
Last up, Mariah Kreutter talks about how we talk to each other now—or rather how we don’t. When conversation becomes performative and combative, it stops being communication and turns into stand-up. If you’re waiting for the hole in the chat in which to drop your punchline, you’re not listening to the other person at all.
More dance action for the Outro. Tap, to be precise, from one of the masters, Gregory Hines, and—well, Steve Martin. Who has a couple of surprises in store for his partner and the audience.
See you in seven, true believers.
October 7, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 34
This time last week I was stressing hard over a social event—specifically Reading Writers’ Novelist’s Day. It’s one of the group’s weekend events, where writers get to meet for a full day of discussion, critique and chat. Why was I stressed? Because I had, completely against my nature, agreed to host it at our house. Normally Casa Conojito is a refuge, a place TLC and I retreat to after the world is done with us. We don’t normally invite people we don’t know into the gaff. Let’s put it this way—party animals we ain’t.
However, the day went well. I think. I hope. It all flew past in a bit of a blur. But the five novelists and I were able to show our work, chat about the particular challenges inherent in writing a long-form project. There was even room for pastries and sausage rolls, so I’m calling it. A victory. I know I’m making a big deal out of a comparatively simple thing—Rob hosted a soirée, big whoop, hardly the Royal court at Versailles, is it?—but I felt proud and happy to have done something nice for my peers, share the garden I’m always banging on about and ultimately, spend time with people who get me. That really is worth shouting about.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
The Red Scholar’s Wake by Aliette de Bodard. Vasty widescreen space opera set in a beautifully drawn Asian-influenced universe. Brutal and romantic, the tale of prisoner-turned-pirate Xich Si and her consort, the mindship Rice Fish, is compelling, propulsive and fiercely told. A solid recommend from me.
Rob is watching…
Can’t seem to embed this 1961 film on the art and craft of the American bookbinder, so you’ll have to trust me that it’s worth the extra click through to the Internet Archive. Worth it for the voiceover alone.
Rob is listening…
The preview image says it all.
Rob is eating…
Finally, finally TLC and I made it out to Clay’s Kitchen and Bar this week, a place I have championed loudly in the newsletter. The experience was worth the wait. The big bright yellow-orange room filled up as we ate, understandably so given the quality of the food and the warmth of the welcome. It was great to meet chef Nandana in person and check out the plaque with my name (OK, along with several hundred Kickstarter supporters) on it by the kitchen. It’s a neighbourhood joint with food good enough to get the attention of food writers from across the national newspaper divide. If you ever make it to Caversham, you have to visit Clay’s. Try the biryanis. Tell em Rob set ya.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
Fictional computers. Clearly reading too much Iain M. Banks.
Given I have a family connection to a visually-impaired person, it was fascinating to read this piece on the problems VI folk face when it comes to a simple meal out. Key takeaways—kindness, patience and empathy go a long way. But then, those are my general watchwords for life…
I have no problem grabbing a pint or a bite on my own. I view it as a bit of a treat, to be honest. I love eating out with TLC, family and friends, but a quiet hour alone with my thoughts and a good burger is time I value. I will usually be writing too, so there’s a purpose to it. Nice to see many people share my bliss.
We are still bullying Janis Joplin, decades after her death. Rolling Stone founder Janan Werner was rightfully excoriated for his comments on female artists a few weeks back, but sadly one of the greatest voices of the 60s has always been an easy target for sneering rock critics of his ilk. She deserved better.
Before the internet, there were libraries. Which, as this discovery from the archives of the New York Public Library show, was used by folk in much the same way as they’d yell at Google today. Some brilliant, borderline deranged queries in this post which ask more questions than they answer.
What Was The Origin Of Bedsheets?
Santiago Borja is a pilot who takes snaps from the flight deck of his 767. You will never look at weather photography in the same way again. I’m saying no more, go get into it.
I love a good pen and a nice notebook, even though I spend 90% of my writing life behind a keyboard. I took great pleasure in this extensive breakdown of the right pen for the write occasion.
I still haven’t made it to my local cinema to enjoy Gareth Edward’s The Creator, a film which has gathered a narrative not about it’s story, characters or acting, but in the way it flipped the traditional methodology towards building an SF blockbuster. A lot of Gareth’s ideas make perfect sense. If he can pull off something that looks this good on a fraction of the usual budget, we need to pay attention.
Mr. Brightside is 20 years old. It’s still in the charts. My ears still perk up whenever I hear that opening chimy guitar line. You know it’s going to fill the floor at weddings up and down the country this weekend, as it does every weekend. A modern classic.
I will preface this dig into the non-TV years in which Doctor Who became essentially a fan-powered proposition by noting the elephant in the room—the 60th Anniversary specials screening next month were based, in part, on a strip published in Marvel UK’s Doctor Who Weekly in 1980. Somehow tat doesn’t get mentioned. Just redressing the balance with my usual rallying call—comics do it best.
Doctor Who: The Wilderness Years
Lastly, a fascinating look into the power a simple brick of ramen can have in a challenging environment.
This week’s low-key musical obsession are Haunt The Woods, a proggy, folky, rocky bunch who are not afraid to stretch out and play it long and loud. Their new album Equilibrium leans hard into the kind of tunes I love. The Waterboys called it The Big Music. The sort of sound which rolls out as you fling your arms wide at the top of a mountain while the sun rises. Play the song. You’ll get the idea.
See you in seven, true believers.
September 30, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 33
The Writer’s Strike is over. It was won with a stunning set of concessions from studios who had sought to belittle, gaslight and bully the people who provide them with their content. This is incredibly good news for the creative community as a whole, and brings back to life a heartening and essential truth—unions work. I hope to see a swift resolution to the Actor’s dispute, which will get everyone back to work—properly compensated and with fewer fears for the future.
However, as writer Gerry Duggan notes, there’s more to do yet, especially around the vexed question of AI. I’ll be interested to see if his tweak to the standard copyright notice has legs…
The battle is won, the war continues.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
The fantastic 2000AD/Battle Action crossover, which sets up the neat concept of the two comics joining forces in 1982… with thrill-powered results. For the truly committed, take a look at the Judge Dredd Megazine mashup too!
Rob is watching…
Any film which features a bartender tipping twelve bottles of Woodford Reserve into a bucket has to be worth your time.
Rob is listening…
To the new Flat Worms album, Witness Marks. Punky, funky, maximum ramalama. Your daily commute goes faster with this cranked on the headphones or car stereo.
Rob is eating…
Beet-cured, home-smoked salmon. Salty, rounded, umami-packed, it’s livened up this week’s sandwiches a treat, I can tell you.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
Plenty of these clips around, taking the richly deserved mick out of a weird ASMR video. The isle Of Wight ferry does a good one. But, as Darren from LinkMachineGo pointed out, this wins the prize. I have been wandering around all week murmuring ‘Bentley…tren’ to myself.
Who needs a life when you have this?
The minds of scientists are, you’d imagine, clean and shining places, palaces of logic and reason. I know a few scientists and I can assure you, this is not the case. They have as messy, random and cheerfully weird headclutter as the rest of us. The delightful thing about the IgNobel Awards, presented every year to the most supposedly pointless research papers, is the peek you get behind the careful methodology and objectivity into a world that’s a lot more Victor Frankenstein than Albert Einstein.
There is something about a Noo Yawk walk up. They are as much expressions of personality as places to live. When you’re forced to make the best from very little floor space, personality really comes to the fore. I have a feeling TLC would happily take a bath with a cocktail in hand while chatting as I cook. You know, I’d like that too.
Heavy Ninth Art geekery incoming. Those of you with a nervous disposition may wish to look away now. We should not forget that up until the mid-80’s, the comics industry was a heavy hitter, printing millions of funny books a week for a greedy readership. It was, effectively, a sausage machine. Here’s how the sausages were strung.
More Ninth Art content, but this one is more relevant to a wider audience. Maybe. Let’s talk about the essential relationship at the heart of comics—that which evolves between a writer and artist. Trust me, there’s a lot of good stuff in here involving different approaches to creativity, and the vital importance of collaboration.
When I Gave You That Script I Thought You’d Hate It
Further submissions from Daniel Lavery, following his previous application to become a bog person. I could happily live like this.
Submitting My Application To Become A Wealthy Peasant In An Old Painting
As streaming services start to shrink their libraries and we find the illusion of choice fizzing away to dust and lies between our fingers, the old argument starts to reassert itself. Piracy is a term used by greedy conglomerates. The rest of us prefer the word ‘preservation.’
The Bitter Southerner is publishing some hella good work right now. As a big fan of that Southern Gothic vibe and the music of Lucinda Williams, Wyatt Williams (no relation, I assume) nails a feeling and an atmosphere that is edging me nicely into an autumnal mood. Spooky but not. Oh look, just read it, sweet tea in hand.
Knitting is essentially a set of binary instructions which generate a snuggly end product. If you’re dealing with ones and zeroes, you can code. Or deliver code. I’m making this sound more complicated than it is. If your granny groks it, you can probably cope.
Knit one secret, purl one secret
There are great sandwiches—the rueben, the tuna melt, the fish finger, the sausage. And then there is the BLT. The pinnacle, the bearer of the crown. Let us celebrate the history, legacy and yes, future of the greatest sammich known to humanity.
The Complete(ish) History Of The BLT
Last up, a fine example of the science-fictional world in which we all live now. Many of the casinos in Las Vegas were recently subject to a ransomware attack, as hackers demanded millions of dollars to keep the money machine grinding. Most operators caved. MGM chose not to. 404 Media’s Jason Koebler took a day trip to the Bellagio to see how bad things were…
Wilco have released a new album. You have your instructions.
See you in seven, true believers.
September 23, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 32
Lincolnshire was a revelation to us, a sign that this country is still full of beautiful surprises. The return to work was harsh, accompanied by strange weather, autumnal vibes mixed with summer sunshine. But the nights are definitely starting to draw in. I’m getting up in the dark again, which never ceases to be a struggle. The last of the tomatoes are harvested, stubbornly refusing to ripen. Green chutney it is, then. We’ll spend the weekend getting our little greenhouse prepped for autumn seed planting while tidying and cutting back ready for the cold times to come. Nearly spooky season.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Surface Detail, an Iain M. Banks Culture novel which seems to have slipped through the cracks. I thought I’d read them all, but this one is deeply unfamiliar. A treatise on the far reaches of belief and faith, it’s typically baroque, violent and twisty. The pacing is not as frantic as in some of Iain’s earlier work, but I’m happy to swim about in the wild depths of his imagination.
Rob is watching…
A brilliant documentary on Colin Hay, leader of Men At Work. There is far more to the guy than Down Under. Hopefully this film will start to redress the balance.
Rob is listening…
To Handle With Care by The Travelling Wilburys. Not intentionally. It just seems to crop up on every playlist TLC and I run through Spotify. We really need to expand our horizons.
Rob is eating…
Lincolnshire sausages and cheese, of course.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
How Handle With Care by The Travelling Wilburys crops up on so many Spotify playlists. Honestly, how can a chugging flat-footed boogie by an 80s supergroup who are mostly dead be so popular?
A pleasant reminder this week of a great chunk of genre madness which turned up with little fuss in 2001 and sadly seems difficult to find nowadays. The Brotherhood Of The Wolf is kinda steampunk, kinda action, kinda horror. Everyone involved leans seriously into the inherent ridiculousness of the concept, playing it completely straight—the only way to roll when the story involves werewolves and a conspiracy with the Vatican at its heart. Do try and check it out!
Investigating The Brotherhood Of The Wolf
A clear-eyed and brutal examination of the economics of working as a comic-book creator. Let’s be frank—it’s not an easy gig, and you’d have to be very lucky and very popular to earn rock-star money from it. For the majority, it’s a life which boils down to long hours, very hard work and a thin pay packet. I’m full of admiration for everyone choosing The Ninth Art as their vocation. They really are in it for the love of the game.
Did you know up to a certain point in the 1950s, it was common practice to stroll into a movie theatre whenever you liked, start watching a film in the middle and leave once it had rolled around to the point where you came in? One film-maker and one film put a stop to all that. Care to guess who?
Jimmy Buffett died recently. He was commonly thought of as a sweet drunken goofball, celebrating a blissed-out semi-retirement as a beach bum with a taste for sticky beach drinks. There was, of course, a lot more to him. Jimmy was a talented and admired singer-songwriter who understood that good living meant doing good. Michael Marshall Smith tells us more.
On the subject of admired songwriting drunks, Niko Stratis examines the life and wild times of Warren Zevon. His songs were dispatches from the dark end of the street, dealing with monsters both literal and metaphorical. Warren himself was a creature of the night and carried his demons in plain sight. He was Mr. Bad Example, and Niko shows us how you can admire the man’s art without following in his footsteps.
Heaven Helps The One Who Leaves
I could not be happier to see Star Trek: The Animated Series get the love it so properly deserves. Scripted by Original Series writers like Dorothy Fontana, voiced by the live-action cast, the show used animation as a way to really push the budget in terms of special effects and sheer bonkers spectacle. The legacy is being celebrated in a set of new short films. Full disclosure—TAS was my first exposure to the Star Trek Universe, and probably explains my life as a Trekkie.
The Mice is a remarkable, long-running comic series in which Earth has been invaded and turned into a factory. The humans left alive are just annoyances, mice in the workings. It’s a simple idea which has grown and matured into a story of real depth and impact. John Freeman at DownTheTubes talks to creator Roger Mason about the long history of the book.
You can read the first two chapters for free right now. Go get some.
Chuck Palahniuk looks at the hidden stories behind tales we think we know. This item hits hard for me, full of truth, insight and wisdom. And yes, I had no idea about World War Z either.
Lots of comics links in this week’s chapter. No, I will not apologise. You lot have had it easy for a while. In the aftermath of the inevitable but still shocking death of a fan-favourite in 2000AD last week, let’s talk about another character in the Dreddiverse who deserves as much love and admiration as she can handle. Any strip featuring Judge Cassandra Anderson is a go-to for me. I’d love to see a team-up between her and another supporting character who should be treated with respect—Strontium Dog’s Durham Red. Now that’s a strip any red-blooded comic fan would enjoy.
Last up, an interview with American cartoonist Ros Chast. Her dry humour and skewed perspective give her work real charm. Folks like Jason Chatfield and the team behind The American Bystander are schooling me in a world of comics I never knew existed. I’m happy to take my medicine when it’s this much fun.
We Outro with certified old-school banger, arguably the best British hip-hop track ever, remastered to celebrate the anniversary of Roots Manuva’s entry into the game. The video is a lot of fun and takes a turn I didn’t see coming. All together now…
See you in seven, true believers.
September 15, 2023
Stop And Look Around Once In A While
Lincolnshire has always been one of those liminal zones. The places you go through on the way to somewhere more interesting. We regularly spin past the county on the way up to the Lakes or our beloved Northumberland. It always seemed perfectly pleasant. Just not enough to stop.
That was a mistake I’m delighted to finally rectify. Lincolnshire is well worth slamming on the brakes for.
This is all on TLC, naturally. She is the organiser, the tour manager, the research dynamo of our household. It’s thanks to her that we fell in love with Coniston, Seahouses, Bamburgh. When she gets a notion to roll out, that itch in her caboose, I am very happy to follow along in her wake.
She said ‘Lincolnshire’. I said ‘Yes, ma’am’.
Let’s contextualise. We are spending the week in a lovely bungalow tucked off the main drag (OK, a road with two pubs and a Co-Op on it) of Skellingthorpe, a sleepy village three miles from Lincoln. The house sleeps six. We have it to ourselves. So roooomy. A bathroom each. Potentially a bedroom each, although I stress to add that will not happen on my watch. A big, clean-walled, high-ceilinged front room. A sofa each. A good kitchen, natch. My one insistence when TLC is booking our base camps.
The grub was a draw when TLC put the pin on this part of the country, actually. Lincolnshire is very foodie. Flat, fertile. Miles of coast. Famous, of course, for sausages, cheese and the dense fruit loaf called plum bread. As we’ve discovered on our ramblings around the country, these are only the starting points. The brewing and distillery scene is booming and distinctive. I love the uptick in local rums, investing in a bottle from Atlas which leans into the maritime feel by including a lump of ship’s hull in the bottle of their Scotch Coffee Rum (it’s like barrel-aged but not, if you catch my drift).
Skellingthorpe is home to Daisy Made, an ice cream joint on the outskirts of town which whisks up a ton of different delicious flavours out of milk gathered daily from the ladies you can see gently munching on cud in the field next door. I strongly recommend a cone of the Kitkat, and I should note they do takeaway by the litre and two-litre.
That’s not the coolest part. They have a petting zoo with alpacas, goats, bunnies, guinea pigs and zebra finches. That’s not the coolest part. They have a drive-thru window. If you’re not excited by the prospect of grabbing a waffle-cone of super delicious, super local ice cream to go before spending quality time with a friendly goat then I don’t know what to do with you.
I somehow had the idea that Lincolnshire was landlocked. I’ve never been great at geography and there’s the proof. The county has a gorgeous run of coastline from the Humber estuary to the northern edge of The Wash. At Skegness, you can wave to the good folk of Hunstanton in East Anglia. And because it’s the east coast, you have unbroken expanses of golden, sugar-soft beaches.
Skegness is the famous coastal destination in Lincolnshire. It’s a lot of fun and, on the balmy day we spent there, not at all bracing. I love a good English seaside town, and Skeggy does not disappoint. You’ve got the pier. You’ve got the amusements and the pleasure beach and the air of quiet desperation and gentle dilapidation once you get past the esplanade and it’s all you expect and hope for. We had lunch from the one decent chippy on the seafront, Trawler’s Catch (most of the really good ones are back in the town proper and were bustling, I am happy to report) which fed us huge portions of haddock and chips with change from a twenty. It also featured a bizarre semi-animatronic pirate show above the entrance which groaned into life every fifteen minutes and had some of the smaller kids who saw it screaming in bewildered rapture. I mean, it got on my nerves a bit but I’m no longer a sugared-up five year old. Physically, at least.
But a five minute walk away from the arcades and the bright lights and you’re looking at beach and sky and that’s it. This run of coastline feels so familiar, because I’m so used to it from our times in Norfolk and Northumberland. Sea and sand to the horizon. Put your back to Skeggy and you could be looking at the views the Vikings had when they pulled their longships ashore.
The history of this area is carved onto the landscape. Many of the towns have been around in some form since our Scandi cousins decided to stop raiding and start settling down. If a place has -thorpe or -by in it you know you’re likely to be in Danelaw, the huge swathe of north-eastern England colonised by the Vikings. Lincoln, especially, has been fought over by different factions for a thousand years. It’s a cheerfully ramshackle city where Danish, Roman, medieval and Georgian history are layered, bits and pieces peeping out over each other. Over it all, the cathedral and castle loom, God and Monarch glaring at the miscreants swarming on the hills below. Both are worth a visit—if you’re on a budget though, take a wander around the cathedral, poke your nose through the door and save your money for the castle, home to the Magna Carta and a wall walk which opens the town up to you.
Worth taking a snap inside the cathedral – no charge for that.It’s an uptown/downtown deal, Lincoln. The cultural, picturesque part of town is reachable from the waterfront and main shopping drags, as long as you’re happy to test your thighs on the 1-in-2 wonky gradient of the not-ironically named Steep Hill. A very clear lesson in the division between church and state.
The cathedral does sorta dominate the view…If I’m honest, I preferred Louth, which still has the history but has a slightly more arty, foodie vibe and considerably fewer brutal inclines. Buy your sausages at Laking’s Butchery, your cheese at Beaumont’s and enjoy a wander in and out of the alleyways off the Main Street where cool coffee shops cluster. Oh, the church here has the highest medieval spire in Europe. And the town is on the Greenwich Meridian. Louth is a cool place, which it wears lightly and with grace. They have a food and drink festival in early October which I’m sorry to miss.
It all sounds like we’ve crammed a lot into the holiday. Yes, we have, but it became very clear very quickly that a week just wasn’t going to be enough. We haven’t managed to do any walking through the beautiful Lincolnshire Wolds. There are a ton of great looking little villages and towns which we’ve just had to, with regret, leave in our rear-view mirrors, not having the time to stop. We didn’t even make it up to Cleethorpes, for gawd’s sake.
I did get a chance to pay my respects to this son of Lincoln, though. So, yeah, we’re gonna have to come back. A bit of the country which was always just part of the journey has become a destination. I love when that happens. The UK never ceases to surprise and delight us. We haven’t been abroad since 2018. At this rate, I’m not sure we ever need to get on a plane to see something great again.
John Hughes’ line for his little demon Ferris Bueller come to mind when I think about our time in Lincolnshire. Recite it with me.
“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
I’m glad we put the brakes on.
See you next Saturday.
September 9, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 31
At what point, when you know a holiday is coming up, do you crack and get the cases down from the loft? At what point do you find yourself slowing down at work, losing focus on the task in front of you in anticipation the pleasures which await a little ways down the road? A couple of days? A week?
Oh, Readership, I am in that agreeable state. The back room is a mess of half-sorted packing. The day job is nothing but an irritation, each shift a ticking clock, a countdown, one more cross on the calendar. I swear, I might pitch up to the office on Friday in shorts and shades. I set the auto-response on email on Wednesday.
I have no idea what you’re getting next week. If it’s just a bunch of holiday snaps, I apologise in advance.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The pre-holiday Swipe.
Rob is reading…
The Green Eagle Score, another Parker novel by Richard Stark. Mid-table for me. Some nice moments but the action is strangely muted and a major antagonist comes out of nowhere at the end of the second act. I mean, it’s Parker, so still worth a read and I gulped it in a couple of days.
Rob is watching…
The making of the pool scene in ‘Weird: The Al Yankovic Story.’ So many familiar faces if you grew up in the mid-80s.
Rob is listening…
to Royal Blood. The boys from Brighton have had a torrid year—sneered at for their grumbling at teens at the Radio One Big Weekend in Dundee, an underwhelming Glastonbury set. But the new album is a stonkah, and Mike Kerr has snagged his own signature bass from Fender, so something’s going right. Anyway, I like em a lot. Royal Blood wear their hearts on their sleeve and they’re adorably goofy.
Rob is eating…
A tuna melt. Something between the two versions Matty Matheson offers in this video. Both of which look, frankly, revolting. I am cheerfully confident that my sandwich will fit the melt-sized hole in your soul.
Good canned tuna, finely diced celery, capers, a julienned spring onion. Hellman’s mayo. 4/1 protein to binder. Decent white bread, none of your milk or Wonder Bread foolishness. Think tiger bloomer as the acceptable low end. And please, pretty please with lemon, sugar and a cherry on top, not burger cheese. I’d go with Gruyère but I am a foodie ponce. A mild cheddar is fine. Red Leicester is better. Melty is key, the clue’s in the name, but the fattiness of American cheese is just too much here.
Also, finally and most importantly—a tuna melt is not open face.
Triggered? Me? Perhaps a little.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
It’s been one of those ‘haunted by a lyric’ sort of weeks. This time around, it’s the hanger for Joe Ely’s ‘Fingernails’, which goes:
I wear my fingernails long so they click when I play the piano.
I have questions. This seems like a very strange thing to enjoy. But then, the idea of typists with super-flex manicures is a weird-out for me. It’s a great song—Ely channeling Jerry Lee Lewis to splendid effect. Nevertheless, slightly freaked out and curse my twisted brainmeats for putting the song on constant replay on Rob’s Head Stereo, 275/285 on the medium wave.
Let us begin with beginnings. The pilots of some very well-known comedy classics which didn’t quite catch fire on the first offering. There’s a reason you can’t find this stuff anywhere…
One of those wonderful moments when a four-panel cartoon and a determinedly belligerent author generate a long, irate and hilarious reaction. See also Gail Simone, comic writer and epic Xwitter troll par excellence. One of those few occasions where it’s advisable to read the comments.
As a cheerful solo drinker, I can confirm there’s no real formula as to how a pub with a welcoming glow is grown. You can’t generate vibe. It just shows up, subject to rules no-one has yet managed to quantify.
There is something about an American pharmacy which has always felt a little—off. You go in for some toothpaste and come out hours later feeling a little woozy, a little druggy, clutching a bag full of stuff you don’t quite remember buying. I still have a bottle of Aqua Velva in my bathroom cabinet which I bought in our trip to Colorado in 2018. It smells like fear, nostalgia and toxic masculinity. Not really my flavour. Maybe I was lured into buying it through subliminal suggestion.
A cook needs a sharp knife. Inevitably, the quest for such an item in the overheated atmosphere of the professional kitchen has led to gamification and overcompensation. Which is not to say I’m not interested in a blade an atom thick at the cutting edge. I’m just not sure I’d fancy the time I’d spend in A&E getting my fingers sewn back on after a mishap with veg prep. I’ve chopped off the top of my thumb with a Y-shaped vegetable peeler before. How much damage could I do with a serious implement?
The word you’re looking for is ESCAPE.
Essential advice from Alex Loveless which, if you know me at all, I am taking very strongly to heart.
The most striking photographic images ever taken and the cameras used to take them. Note that most of them are simple, straightforward devices. Always worth mentioning, the best camera is the one you have with you. It’s about the moment and the mind behind the viewfinder. The hardware is secondary.
Last orders. No apologies for dumping the big read at the end of the chapter. This is big, deep, dense and chewy, the literary equivalent of malt loaf. Adam Roberts digs into Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange And Mr. Norrell and, somewhat unsurprisingly, gets lost in a maze of mirrors. This is a great read on narrative, history, fantasy and how we define and ringfence genre. It’s not for everyone. I, naturally, wallowed around in it like a rhino in a swamp. Feel free to take that image with you.
Strange, Norrell, Magic and Modernity
After that, let’s Outro in simpler, purer fashion. I’m drawn to soul and country music because they’re, at heart, based on good storytelling. More than that, a good country or soul record is tight, economical and, when done right, a brutally targeted missile strike to the heart. Take Outfit, written by Jason Isbell, performed here by Drive-By Truckers.
A song which actively sideswiped me into tears as I was doing the compile on this week’s chapter for no goddam good reason. And, coincidentally, made me wanna call my dad.
See you in seven, true believers. Don’t call what you’re wearing an outfit. Don’t give it away.
September 2, 2023
To Cook You A Song
I have reached the point in my long and storied existence on this hurtling rock to have properly learnt an important lesson. It is simple, but takes a long time to sink in and resonate with your lived experience.
It’s a two-word mantra which, once you grok the true meaning, will instantly elevate your existence.
Embrace Uncertainty.
Doesn’t seem like much, do it? But applied correctly, it opens up the universe to you. Of course, there’s a bit more to it. Allow me to clarify, at length. Settle in. This is going to take a while.
This year marks some important anniversaries in the musical career of Tom Waits, celebrated with a brace of remasters and reissues. His first album, Closing Time, was released in 1973. For the purposes of today’s business, I want to focus on another milestone—Tom’s 1983 album Swordfishtrombones, which marked a major sea change in his sound and approach to music.
Known prior to that point as a gleefully shabby beat poet/balladeer, he threw that legacy in the nearest dumpster when he realised he was repeating himself. In a bid to re-energise, Tom developed a less structured, experimental groove, based on the weirdest instruments he could lay his hands on (an example—a Mellotron, a kind of early synthesiser, loaded entirely with train noises). The sound he arrived at was, in the words of one critic (I’m paraphrasing), like a street preacher manoeuvring a New Orleans funeral band down an alleyway full of bins.
I love Tom’s work unreservedly, and Swordfishtrombones and the follow up Rain Dogs spun my young head round like a tilt-a-whirl. It opened me up to principles of uncertainty that I am only now beginning to properly understand. That there is no right way of doing things. That even the wrong thing can be right—sometimes.
I love a happy accident. The moment when fate, circumstance and luck collide and present you with an opportunity, moment or flavour which you’d never considered up until then.
I say flavour because, to me, the creative act and time spent in the kitchen are tangled up like a knot of spaghetti. Cooking is an act of love for me. Putting food in front of people and having them react with pleasure gives me a big dopamine hit. I actually get a buzz off it. So of course I try to experiment a little, to get ideas and run with them. Hence the shoulder-high pile of cookbooks in my back room, the subscription to a ton of food magazines in my Readly app on the iPad, the way I will ravenously devour Sam Sifton or J. Kenji López-Alt in the New York Times, Nigel Slater and Felicity Cloake in The Guardian. From inspiration comes creation and thence dinner.
But let’s take a step back. The freewheeling, accident-embracing, throw-the-piano-down-the-stairs-to-see-what-it-sounds-like approach I invoked earlier still has to be built from a solid base of knowledge. I’m not just going to throw onion, jam, aubergine and mutton into a pan and wait for culinary lightning to strike. I can’t just throw words at you in a random order or invent a new language and expect you to find a glorious insight to existence in the mad jumble.
To put it another way, here’s Michael Blair, whose percussion played such a huge part in Waits’ new sound, on the songs Tom wrote for the records.
‘They were bulletproof. You couldn’t kill them! We could play stuff backwards and upside down and wrong, in that context, and Tom could pick what he wanted to use from that, and it always still sounded like the song, because they were just so well written. No matter what I did, no matter how weird it got, if I threw them down the stairs, the song still stood up.’
Michael Blair, percussionist on Swordfishtrombones.
Of course, this applies to any creative act. The old saw about knowing the rules before you can break them still holds true. If you’re baking especially, ratio of ingredients, oven temperature, the care needed in mixing and incorporation are all key to a successful end result. But once you know how the base concept works, you’re off to the races.
I know that a 500g loaf needs a liquid to dry goods ratio of 3 to 5, with a little salt and a teaspoon of yeast. After that, anything goes. Doesn’t really matter what kind of flour, if I throw seeds or fruit or cheese in. I know that, given time and a hot oven, it’s going to work.
It’s the early pioneers who amaze me. The folk who saw the way flour which had got wet and forgotten about fizzed up thanks to wild yeast in the air and turned into a sort of dough. What kind of mind, presented with that, thinks ‘Imma throw that in the oven and see what it tastes like?’ Those are the people who built the slab of knowledge from which I and everyone like me take our little creative jumps. The pioneers. The real wild bunch. My tribute to them is to make my own small leaps into the unknown.
Every time I walk into the kitchen or sit in front of my keyboard, I Embrace Uncertainty. Every chapter of The Swipe evolves organically from the things I read, watch, hear and eat during the week. The reason you don’t have Chapter 31 this week? There wasn’t enough to make the grade. That’s when I reach out to the universe (and yes, OK, my emergency bank of ideas) for a clue.
Even then, there’s no guarantee that I’ll end where I started. This piece was supposed to be about the way recipes and sheet music are loose blueprints for artistic expression, rather than the definitive version. That idea has gone back into the bank. It’ll come in handy one day.
For now though, I’m grateful for the happy accident which led you and I to this point on a warm Saturday morning in late summer, enjoying an existence where rules, once understood, can be pulled apart and bent to our will.
Tell us more, Tom.
See you next Saturday.
August 26, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 30
This is the weekend we welcome tens of thousands of new friends to our town by the Thames. Reading Festival has been a Bank Holiday highlight for over fifty years, starting as a haven for rock fans before becoming the post-exam celebration/commiseration we enjoy today. From our house on the hill we can hear the headliners, and Caversham teems with bright-eyed younglings on an adventure. Come Monday, you often see the casualties slumped over one last coffee or pint, waiting for their rides back to the real world and a new start as college or university beckons. It’s a nice way to close out the summer, and part of the reason I love this town so much.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Joe Murray created one of the more under-rated animations of the 90s, Rocko’s Modern Life. His textbook on the armoury of techniques he deployed is long out of print, subject to piracy and overpriced scam reprints. So Joe’s decided to release a free high-quality PDF. Lucky us. There’s gold in here. Enjoy.
https://joemurraystudio.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/Creating-Animated-Cartoons-with-Character.pdf
Rob is watching…
This clip from Bon Appetit on the best street food in Hong Kong is exhilarating and terrifying. I mean, that wok burner could probably power a truck. The food, by the way, looks extraordinary.
Rob is listening…
To Rockpile. Power pop at its finest, from one of the masters of the form. This playlist closes with one of the themes of The Swipe, by the way. So it goes…
Rob is eating…
Broccoli. Courgettes, still. Lots and lots of tomatoes. Sweetcorn. Often in combination, always in quantity. This is the month of abundance in the garden, and dinner is as fresh as it gets. Think salad nicoise, tossed through with warm baby spuds and lightly stir-fried broccoli. Corn and tomatoes in a salsa or pico di gallo. I’m having a lot of fun. Today I’m taking a crack at smoking a big lump of beef which has been sitting in a punchy rub for a couple of days. Low, slow, little effort required. That’s how you roll on a bank holiday.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
Festival-goer watching. The youngs seem equal parts bewildered, puppyishly excited and strangely innocent. I just want them all to stay warm, safe and away from the brown acid.
I am no gamer. We owned a Nintendo Wii for a while, good for Mario Kart if nothing else. I play the occasional match-3 game on my phone if I have a spare 5 minutes (Small Town Murders has the interesting tweak of telling a story alongside the puzzles, with surprisingly good writing and engaging characters). Otherwise, nope, don’t have the patience or fast-twitch muscle fibres for it. I am fascinated by the culture, though, and how games tie into my typical obsessions. Bennett Foddy is the master of games I would walk past without even looking. His thoughts and theories on why and how he does it had my attention in a snap.
You may have heard this story about Roger Moore before. If not, prepare to be charmed.
Tim Misny is a lawyer in Ohio who has found a particular niche and a style of promotion which—well, take a look. It wouldn’t surprise me if we start seeing those eyebrows everywhere this autumn.
In further introductions, Thomas Cochrane is one of those swashbuckling characters you’d instantly laugh at in a historical novel for being too Flash-heart. This guy, though, is for real. He did it all and pissed off almost everyone along the way. I’m swooning, frankly.
Garth Ennis is a comics writer who polarises the field. Best known for Preacher and The Boys, long-form projects which have both been adapted for the screen, his style switches from brutal gore and schoolboy-level shock tactics to tender and powerful explorations of love, loss and grief. For Shelfdust, Sean Dillon explores one of Ennis’ finer moments.
I love to cook. You know that. It’s a happy place for me. Food, feeding people, playing around with flavour and texture. Putting something good to eat on a plate. It takes me out of myself at the end of a difficult day. Not everyone is like me. Many see the effort involved in getting dinner done as one step too far. If you’re like that, try this. Ignore the title. You’re not a sad bastard. We’ve got you.
I’m sure there’s plenty I don’t know about the finer points of pregnancy and childbirth, but even I can see this looks like a patently (soz) ridiculous idea. Catcher up!
As time goes on, a person’s tastes change. I, for example, was never a fan of trifle. Now, made with decent sponge fingers and good custard, it’s a joy to me. Nic Miller offers an overview of a dessert which has finally found a place on my table and in my heart. Sharp-eyed members of The Readership may spot a recipe to which I am particularly drawn.
A few weeks ago, I featured the Thai Burger King version of a cheeseburger. Dennis Lee at Food Is Stupid had one made. He tried it so we don’t have to. Thank you, Dennis.
Last orders. If you’re at all unsure as to why actors and writers have been on strike for the last few months (a dispute which still sees little sign of resolution) take some time to read D.B.’s examination. It offers clarity on where we are and what’s at stake. You’ll probably walk away from this feeling a little sad and angry. I know I did. Sorry about that.
OK, let’s end with a bang to knock ourselves out of this funk. Osees are back! The new album, Intercepted Message, is a blast. I’d describe it as Beefheart and Zappa meet The Cars. It’s zippy, fun and goes like a train. Also, two-drummer bands are the best. I will brook no argument here. Play loud, obvs.
Check out the dice on Dwyer’s Melody Maker!See you in seven, true believers.
August 19, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 29
I’m very careful not to call myself a sports fan. Ball games in particular leave me cold (a correlation to the terrible time the clumsy, short-sighted schoolboy Rob had during PE, shivering at the boundary or in goal, always picked last, missing every shot fired in my general direction).
However, TLC and I spent a great afternoon at the Diamond League athletics meet in Stratford last month. The UCI World Cycling Champs were a lock on the TV recently. And yes, we will be in front of a screen this Sunday cheering on the Lionesses.
Hmm. #notallballgames. Maybe I’m more interested than I thought. Just don’t ask me what football team I support.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Cinema Speculation by Quentin Tarantino. His first proper long-form dose of writing about film, and it’s pretty much what you’d expect. Fast talking, opinionated, bulging with ideas. It also reads like a first draft. Massively entertaining, of course, but oh, what it could have been if the cowardly publisher had allowed an editor to give it the once-over.
Rob is watching…
Sometimes, all you want is a bit of scenery-chewing. This is top-tier chompery from two of the best. You had me at Medievel Malcolm Tucker.
Rob is listening…
I was watching a doco about a hill-farmer based in a very isolated part of the Lake District. It was him, the sheep, a small house and that was it. The farmer was stoic, dour, monosyllabic, all the stuff you’d expect. Towards the end of the sequence he said, out of nowhere, ‘it’s a good life if you don’t weaken.’ That’s economy of storytelling for you. Very Cormac McCarthy. As far as I can tell, the phrase is the title of a hugely influential graphic novel by Seth and—this.
Rob is eating…
Fish and chips from our local, Ready Tasty on Henley Road, for the first time in a long while. They still cook to order and it’s still fantastic value for money. Very happy to see the place still doing the bizzo for the people of Caversham. Yes, I was today years old when I got the Dingtown pun in the name. We’ve only been here for 18 years…
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
John Bull provides the base concept for a series of comics, which will eventually roll out into a Netflix series. This makes so much sense, especially with regards to our own l’il border-walker.
On the subject of everyone’s favourite fluffy little demons, here’s some thoughts on the most famous quantum moggy of them all. A century after Schrödinger first came up with his consideration on cats and boxes, we are still arguing over exactly what it means. Which is, I guess, kind of the point, no?
You have to tread carefully with Reddit. Hit the wrong sub and you can find yourself knee-deep in toxic sludge. Pick wisely, though, and there is gold to be found. Take r/KitchenConfidential, in which hospitality professionals spill the tea on their industry. This entry from the user who delightfully identifies as TheRealSuperNoodle hits hard. And yes, I believe that is a Bourdain quote at the end.
Taking a step sideways but always forward, this bit from Ben Rowan for Texas Monthly, who spent a week eating only at the Lone Star’s favourite burger chain, is not just a dumb food challenge. It’s an exploration of why we leave the house to get dinner. Any dining-out experience is, at best, only 30% about the food. Once you find your spot, you’re in for good.
One last food link. This entangles weakly with the story in the previous chapter about cooking the iconic recipes from The Bear. Once you’ve mastered the boursin-and-crisp omelette, why not try some other famous meals? OK, I appreciate we’re in Binging With Babish territory but hey, I’d never say no to a steamed ham.
Some sad news for Ninth Art advocates. Matt Boer’s The Nib, home to prime politicomical output for the last ten years, is shuttering at the end of the month. A hint of cheer amidst the sadness—you can snag all the available issues as PDFs for free until August 31st. I suggest you step to it. The Nib has been a long-time favourite of mine. I’m sorry to see it go.
Part tool, part toy, part literary game, Blackout is a great way to experiment with a particularly random form of text generation. Give it a go. You may be surprised at what is revealed.
Steve Albini’s ferocious reputation as brutal agitator and master feather-ruffler is nearly as well-known as his musical background as engineer (he hates the term ‘producer’) behind some astonishing records. When, a couple of years back, he began to publicly express contrition for the things he had said and done in the past, initial surprise was followed by realisation. He has always been true to himself. The acceptance that the person you were is not the person you are now is part of the human condition, and Steve leans into that with the blunt forth-rightfulness which is his trademark. When Albini realises he’s been an asshole, he will do something about it.
This is not a piece about baseball. It is about meritocracy and fair working conditions. I’m not convinced by Jeff Maurer’s advocacy for a strictly performance-data run workplace (just look at Amazon for an example of how that can go wrong) but it’s certainly food for thought.
Zepotha is this year’s Goncharov. If that last sentence makes sense to you please put down your mobile device and get out in the sunshine for a bit. You’ve been online too long.
We flagged up the Little Lytton a few weeks ago. Now, the main event has announced prizewinners for the worst opening sentence to a novel for 2023. There are some howlers in this year’s tranche—which is as it should be. My favourite?
If there’s a snake in your boot, you dump it out by the creek, and if it’s got feathers, you dump it out in the creek, and if it’s talkin’ at you, you dump it out gently and apologize and keep an eye out for the mama dragon, and tarnation these city slickers don’t know the first thing about stayin’ alive out here.
Mara Lynn Johnstone, Santa Rose, CA
I’d read a book that started like that.
(Those of you with a nervous disposition may wish to avoid the Vile Puns section. There’s really no excuse for that sort of behavior.)
Just cos of all the chat about Taylor Swift’s Eras tour, I sought out footage of the last great live event which really grabbed onto the public’s attention. I remember when this was in the papers every single day. You know what? Still slams. Strap in and cinch up. Things is gonna get tight.
See you in seven, true believers.
