C.S. Boag's Blog, page 5
November 14, 2014
The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell
Bill Clinton swore by it. And if you've even tried to read Clinton's self serving, unrevealing, white washing biography, you'll know that endorsement's worth absolutely nothing. Clinton would endorse a pancake.
The Tipping Point claims to have discovered uranium. In fact, it is chaos theory applied to life - the tipping point occurs when the tap stops dripping and starts running; the heart beat that keeps going instead of stopping; a pattern when there appears not to be one.
In short, it is pretentious nonsense. There's a moment when something flips over from failure to success. It can be the kismet of something that just happens, usually a person. Paul Revere was such a person.
Well, woopy doo, Clinton was a do nothing president, if you leave aside his love life, and this is a do-nothing book.
The Tipping Point claims to have discovered uranium. In fact, it is chaos theory applied to life - the tipping point occurs when the tap stops dripping and starts running; the heart beat that keeps going instead of stopping; a pattern when there appears not to be one.
In short, it is pretentious nonsense. There's a moment when something flips over from failure to success. It can be the kismet of something that just happens, usually a person. Paul Revere was such a person.
Well, woopy doo, Clinton was a do nothing president, if you leave aside his love life, and this is a do-nothing book.
November 10, 2014
Old Books
It's important to remember old books. So many new ones are rubbish, their sole advantage being that they're written in the modern idiom. That's why a lot of my reviews are of old books. Reading them now to a background of the Internet and television, in an age when everyone's a genius, you appreciate how truly wonderful many of them were. The ones that stand the test of time are the ones I'm interested in. Tolstoy's Anna Karenin did that. Strangely enough, so too did Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust. Honesty is at the root of all good writing- readers see through the poseurs more readily than writers think. I am looking forward to reading Conrad's Heart of Darkness. A good book is more than just a story, for me it must have those hidden depths of the works of Graham Greene and Patrick White. Some modern writers are deliberately obscure - and I put Salman Rushdie in this category - while others are as transparent as ice on a pond in winter. I am not a bleeding heart begging for the "good old days". I'm just pleading that readers not neglect the best the good old days have to offer, and use it as a guide to winkle out the best on offer today.
October 22, 2014
Clean Straw for Nothing by George Meredith
For those who don't know, the romance between Johnston and the beautiful Charmian Clift was a cause celebre in the 1960's. They ran away from philistine Australia to live on an idyllic Greek island. That was the myth.
But this is the reality - even though it's fiction it is like watching a slow-motion train-wreck. They drank; there are sexual adventures, real and imagined; and Johnston's character writes unremunerative pot-boilers.
Forced to return to reality, they have to pick up the pieces. The title of the book is from a 18th century ditty: Drunk for a penny, Dead drunk for tuppence, Clean Straw for Nothing.
It doesn't sound too hot, so why do I find it uplifting. First, it is a beautiful love story. Secondly, they did it. And third the book is exceptionally written. The character Meredith counts himself a failure. But that is not how he emerges from Clean Straw for Nothing. He was true to his values. He reveals an endearing humanness. And the couple's love, despite everything, endures. Johnston has an accurate eye for character- he is unstintingly harsh, not least on his own persona, Meredith.
The book reveals why most people choose to live their lives within the four rigid walls of conformity. It exposes the dangers of trying to escape. But it shows that it can be done- and for an artist, must be done: whether that escape is a physical one or only in the mind. As the artist character Tom Kiernan says:
"I fly with Icarus, not with Dacdelus"
"That's all very well for you," replies Meredith, " But I'm me not you."
"Balls! If you want to fly, if you think you can fly, then all you've got to do is jump off the twig and bloody well fly!"
And with this book Johnston flies 5/5
But this is the reality - even though it's fiction it is like watching a slow-motion train-wreck. They drank; there are sexual adventures, real and imagined; and Johnston's character writes unremunerative pot-boilers.
Forced to return to reality, they have to pick up the pieces. The title of the book is from a 18th century ditty: Drunk for a penny, Dead drunk for tuppence, Clean Straw for Nothing.
It doesn't sound too hot, so why do I find it uplifting. First, it is a beautiful love story. Secondly, they did it. And third the book is exceptionally written. The character Meredith counts himself a failure. But that is not how he emerges from Clean Straw for Nothing. He was true to his values. He reveals an endearing humanness. And the couple's love, despite everything, endures. Johnston has an accurate eye for character- he is unstintingly harsh, not least on his own persona, Meredith.
The book reveals why most people choose to live their lives within the four rigid walls of conformity. It exposes the dangers of trying to escape. But it shows that it can be done- and for an artist, must be done: whether that escape is a physical one or only in the mind. As the artist character Tom Kiernan says:
"I fly with Icarus, not with Dacdelus"
"That's all very well for you," replies Meredith, " But I'm me not you."
"Balls! If you want to fly, if you think you can fly, then all you've got to do is jump off the twig and bloody well fly!"
And with this book Johnston flies 5/5
October 21, 2014
The Railway Man by Eric Lomax
No, no, no, no and no again. This is not a book to read. Why? It doesn't ring true. It doesn't say anything. And it is badly hopelessly and amateurishly written. Of course it made a reputedly good film, because it was rewritten.
A man obsessed with railways. The same man finds himself a prisoner of war, ironically building the Burma railway. During which he is tortured, mates are killed, and at the hands of various Japanese captors, undergoes severe privations.
Of course the memories stay with him. The torture goes on, this time in his mind. He hates the Japanese, one in particular. By chance, he comes across him. The torturer is repentant. He finds redemption in good deeds. They meet, Lomax forgives him, they become good friends. The book doesn't work.
War is a foul business during which bad people do bad things. These bad things are not something to be forgiven. Of course forgiveness is a fine thing. Are we meant to find solace in this, reassurance that war is fine as long as you forgive. Forgive me if I don't think so.
This man was responsible for not only Lomax's pain and suffering but for the pain and suffering of others, as well as thier deaths. It is not Lomax's place to forgive just so that he feels better.
This is Lomax's journey. He was a victim of war and we should feel sorry for him. But we don't have to swallow rubbish that tries to somehow atone for /forgive the barbarity of war so that we can be ready for the next one and the next and the next. Verdict: off the rails 0/5
A man obsessed with railways. The same man finds himself a prisoner of war, ironically building the Burma railway. During which he is tortured, mates are killed, and at the hands of various Japanese captors, undergoes severe privations.
Of course the memories stay with him. The torture goes on, this time in his mind. He hates the Japanese, one in particular. By chance, he comes across him. The torturer is repentant. He finds redemption in good deeds. They meet, Lomax forgives him, they become good friends. The book doesn't work.
War is a foul business during which bad people do bad things. These bad things are not something to be forgiven. Of course forgiveness is a fine thing. Are we meant to find solace in this, reassurance that war is fine as long as you forgive. Forgive me if I don't think so.
This man was responsible for not only Lomax's pain and suffering but for the pain and suffering of others, as well as thier deaths. It is not Lomax's place to forgive just so that he feels better.
This is Lomax's journey. He was a victim of war and we should feel sorry for him. But we don't have to swallow rubbish that tries to somehow atone for /forgive the barbarity of war so that we can be ready for the next one and the next and the next. Verdict: off the rails 0/5
At Home by William Plomer
This is a delicious book. It could be said that I loved it because its philosophy agrees with my own: he is a humanist, pacifist, feminist, anti-nationalist and opposed to racism, gentle in his dealings, thoughtful and kind and yet still quietly acerbic.
And all this couched in a language so preciously beautiful it makes you laugh and cry.
Plomer was born in 1903. This, his second MEMOIR was published in 1958. It offers insights into the characters of the members of the Bloomsbury set, who were his friends. It gives Plomer's stand on the times he lived through. He is sharp witted but modest. He is the finest of writers.
Plomer edited one of the finest books I have read - KILVERT'S DIARY - about a Welsh clergyman who died at the age of 39, two months after marrying: a delicate, gentle but revealing work. For "At Home" 5/5
And all this couched in a language so preciously beautiful it makes you laugh and cry.
Plomer was born in 1903. This, his second MEMOIR was published in 1958. It offers insights into the characters of the members of the Bloomsbury set, who were his friends. It gives Plomer's stand on the times he lived through. He is sharp witted but modest. He is the finest of writers.
Plomer edited one of the finest books I have read - KILVERT'S DIARY - about a Welsh clergyman who died at the age of 39, two months after marrying: a delicate, gentle but revealing work. For "At Home" 5/5
October 9, 2014
How to Read a Novel by John Sutherland
Don't get me wrong - I'm a great fan of Sutherland. His Lives of The Novelists is a lovely laid back TRAIPSE through literature, far in advance of Sam Johnson's Lives of the Poets.
The problem is that How to Read a Novel is not about how to read a novel at all. Instead, it's a jolly romp through what Sutherland knows about books (a lot) and his adventures along the way. It's lovely to learn what "copyright" means and where novels began and the ins and outs of authorical rivalry - but it ain't reading. Now and again Sutherland drops in a clue but otherwise the reader keen to learn how to read a novel will learn pretty much nothing at all. A hand book for writers though, and, as with all Sutherland's stuff, well worth the reading. Blame the publishers. 4/5
The problem is that How to Read a Novel is not about how to read a novel at all. Instead, it's a jolly romp through what Sutherland knows about books (a lot) and his adventures along the way. It's lovely to learn what "copyright" means and where novels began and the ins and outs of authorical rivalry - but it ain't reading. Now and again Sutherland drops in a clue but otherwise the reader keen to learn how to read a novel will learn pretty much nothing at all. A hand book for writers though, and, as with all Sutherland's stuff, well worth the reading. Blame the publishers. 4/5
Decline of the English Murder by George Orwell
Orwell, of course is the beautiful man who write Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty Four - both about the loss of individuality suffered at the hands of manipulative, self-seeking politicians the world suffers today, some 70 years later.
This little book of essays is whimsical and a little frayed around the edges but shows something of the man and how beautifully he wrote. Although Orwell went to Eton his heart was with the under dog. The essay on Charles Dickens - who Orwell describes as "generously angry" is superb; and the one on dirty postcards a surprise; and "Why I Write" extremely helpful - forget the bullshit, he says, writers write because of ego.
How can you not love this man? 5/5
This little book of essays is whimsical and a little frayed around the edges but shows something of the man and how beautifully he wrote. Although Orwell went to Eton his heart was with the under dog. The essay on Charles Dickens - who Orwell describes as "generously angry" is superb; and the one on dirty postcards a surprise; and "Why I Write" extremely helpful - forget the bullshit, he says, writers write because of ego.
How can you not love this man? 5/5
Washington Square by Henry James
Reading James brings me to the edge of despair. In the face of Washington Square, how can I imagine I can write? H. G. Wells ridiculed James, saying he was the literary equivalent of an elephant picking up a pea. Wells was wrong.
James writes like an angel. This bitter-sweet story will reduce you to tears. It was written over 130 years ago yet still holds good. The characters are delicately drawn, the writing is wonderful and the story sad yet uplifting.
Dear Catherine loves her young man but we doubt his motives ( she's wealthy). So does Catherine's father, the formidable Dr. Slope. And in the middle of it all is the meddlesome Aunt Lavinia.
James delivers this story with great subtlety; the denouement is superb. A little book, it is a gem. How could anyone criticize James, except for being an impossible act to follow. 5/5
James writes like an angel. This bitter-sweet story will reduce you to tears. It was written over 130 years ago yet still holds good. The characters are delicately drawn, the writing is wonderful and the story sad yet uplifting.
Dear Catherine loves her young man but we doubt his motives ( she's wealthy). So does Catherine's father, the formidable Dr. Slope. And in the middle of it all is the meddlesome Aunt Lavinia.
James delivers this story with great subtlety; the denouement is superb. A little book, it is a gem. How could anyone criticize James, except for being an impossible act to follow. 5/5
There Was A Time by Walter Greenwood
This is so sad. Greenwood tries so hard. It is all here; a beautiful mastery of English, hard times, and the ability to depict them. But Greenwood, born poor, brought up poor, self-educated-simply tries too desperately hard to impress.
His writing is like a job applicant who knows he barely has a chance if he plays the flute while standing on his head.
Greenwood wrote many novels in his 30's and one imagines he was published by a middle class industry delighted by the chance to see the glimmer of hard struggle life between the wars in the industrial town of Manchester.
But it doesn't stand the test of time. Less than 50 years after publication it is simply too gritty to assimilate with any ease or pleasure. he does everything right and it ends up as everything wrong. 2/5
His writing is like a job applicant who knows he barely has a chance if he plays the flute while standing on his head.
Greenwood wrote many novels in his 30's and one imagines he was published by a middle class industry delighted by the chance to see the glimmer of hard struggle life between the wars in the industrial town of Manchester.
But it doesn't stand the test of time. Less than 50 years after publication it is simply too gritty to assimilate with any ease or pleasure. he does everything right and it ends up as everything wrong. 2/5
September 29, 2014
Image of a Society by Roy Fuller
First published in 1956, this novel is still relevant and still a cracker. Beautifully written, it deals with some rather anal people in the upper echelon of a Northern England building society.
Fuller does wonderful work with this unpromising material. A man in line for promotion agonizes over the parking spot; the society's lawyer is in thrall to dominating parents; there is much SHY WRANGLING over things that shouldn't matter; and there is an affaire.
The novel is so beautifully crafted I didn't want to put it down. The characters who "strut and fret their hour upon the stage" are real. The book wouldn't be everyone's cup of cocoa but it was certainly mine.
Fuller does wonderful work with this unpromising material. A man in line for promotion agonizes over the parking spot; the society's lawyer is in thrall to dominating parents; there is much SHY WRANGLING over things that shouldn't matter; and there is an affaire.
The novel is so beautifully crafted I didn't want to put it down. The characters who "strut and fret their hour upon the stage" are real. The book wouldn't be everyone's cup of cocoa but it was certainly mine.
