The Q4 Media Report: Patience, as far as it goes

It’s the end of the year! Lest auld acquaintance be forgot, etc. For me, 2021 has been an extremely liminal sort of year, not one thing nor another; waiting for things to happen but not quite getting to them yet. I’m fully expecting 2022 to be explosive, on a personal level. Any more broadly than that and my goal is to be as patient with everyone as I can possibly manage. I don’t know much about how the next year will go, but I do know the more patience we can pour into it, the better.

Maybe I’ve been on the wrong bits of internet but it feels like there have been fewer Best Of lists than usual. I’ve been trying to work out if I want to do one. On one hand, by my reckoning, I’ve read 57 books this year and watched 39 films (hey, add me on Letterboxd, if that’s a thing you’re at all interested in) - not nearly as many films as usual, mainly on account of giving the inside of the cinema a somewhat wider berth than I ordinarily would, but plenty to have opinions about. On the other hand, I’m burnt out of having opinions.

So I’m going to half-ass it. Quick! Six best books I’ve read this year! It’s an arbitrary number but I can’t cut them down any further!

Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin. Unquestionably the best prose I’ve read all year. Just astonishing.

Nunslinger - Stark Holborn. This was my first Stark Holborn and I bloody loved it. I also read Triggernometry, and the only reason I’ve not got around to Ten Low is because my partner stole it off my bedside table before I could start.

Inverted World - Christopher Priest. On my birthday, back in June, I went out for dinner by myself and drank cocktails and read this. Total mind-bender. Nobody does it better.

Mythago Wood - Robert Holdstock. Ever realised after the fact that you’ve basically written fanfiction of a book you hadn’t read yet? Let the record show that I first read Mythago Wood in the autumn of 2021.

The Magic Mountain - Thomas Mann, trans. H. T. Lowe-Porter. Basically all I read for the months of October and November. Pretty dense, but that’s how I like my friends, so we got on really well.

Poor Things - Alasdair Gray. This one was a recommendation from a friend with excellent taste. I want to pull out every page, stick them all to a wall, and stand in front of them gesticulating wildly.

And six new-to-me films!

Palm Springs (Max Barbakow, 2020). Back in lockdown again, we got around to this from last year, and it was hilarious and a delight.

Limbo (Ben Sharrock, 2021). When they say “darkly funny”, this one tips significantly more dark than funny. I loved it, I thought it looked great, and it’s high up the list of weirdest films I’ve ever ushered a baby and carer screening for. Niche!

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (Hayao Miyazaki, 1984). Obviously I love Princess Mononoke very much, so I’m surprised it took me this long to get around to Nausicaä.

The Green Knight (David Lowery, 2021). Extremely my jam. Whoever’s been suggesting scripts to Dev Patel in the last few years deserves a medal.

Snowpiercer (Bong Joon-Ho, 2013). Not my #1 favourite ever Bong Joon-Ho (which I still think is probably Memories of a Murder) but I just think he’s really good at making films!

The Power of the Dog (Jane Campion, 2021). Wasn’t expecting to enjoy it! Definitely wasn’t paying attention for the first 45 minutes, until I realised I was absolutely rapt.

Both unusually manly lists this year, but I suppose that’s going to happen statistically now and again. One thing I want to keep an eye on next year is reading and watching much more in translation. That’s where a lot of the fun stuff seems to be.

One bit of good news in Q4 of 2021 is that I’ve started writing new things again - some might say too much of a new thing, before it’s had enough time to bake properly; others might say you kind of always have to rush in ahead before it’s done, because if you wait then it never will be. I spent two months reading very slowly through a single book - The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann, which was exactly the right thing to do at this time of this year, but I don’t necessarily recommend reading century-old Nobel prizewinners when you’re writing a book you don’t have a solid grip on yet.

I’ve heard before that every time you write a book, you have to teach yourself afresh how to write that book in particular - and this one is absolutely the opposite of every one I’ve ever known. The first time I’ve not had a plan going in. The first time I’ve not known the ending, more or less, before I write the first sentence. Part of it is set in a time period I find very exposing to write about, because I want to do it well, but know that many other people know it far better than I do. I know that feeling already, of course - but on previous occasions it’s been the British Civil Wars and I’ve felt like I know it about as well as a non-trained-historian can, more or less. This time I’m essentially researching as I go (or rather, I only properly started over the summer), and honestly right now I feel like a total cowboy about it. And not in a fun way.

Well, the only thing for it is to hold my nerve as much as I can manage, and hope I can figure out how the whole thing ends before I back myself into a corner in a fit of despair.

And in the new year? I hope to have fun things to tell you, rather than coming through every few months to tell you glumly that I feel like I’m not doing enough. No, I know I’ll have fun things to tell you: more or less this time last year, I sent up a tentative flare to see if anyone liked the same things I did. And they did! So between us we sent up another flare, and this one was bigger and brighter, and the answer came back stronger, and all this year I’ve been heading in the direction the light came from. I’m nearly on the crest of a hill. I can see it. I don’t know what’s on the other side exactly, but I know there’s someone there, and I know when they see my signal they’ll know what they’re looking at. Will it be you? I can’t wait to find out.