Wednesday, 13 October 2010

Piles and piles of books


When I went to university I remember counting the books on my shelves. I had a tiny single room at a hall of residence and the library space amounted to, I think, three small shelves on the wall. I was studying English Lit, Politics and History and I made sure I bought all my listed texts new. Their spines sparkled with promise. Yes, really, that's what I thought. Even "Scottish Politics" by the department head, printed on what looked like bog paper, appeared to me at that time to be a shiny beacon of the future.

Over that year or so I added many paperbacks. Books I read because I wanted to. Books I bought because I thought I should. I have always bought more books than I read, however, which is partly why now - two decades later - I have a dining room table groaning under the weight of columns and columns of books.

We're doing out the front room (again... I won't bore you with the details) which means a temporary migration for the books to the back sitting room. I mention this because it is only when you move books around that you realise just how many you have and what a cumbersome load of stuff they amount to.

I'm not a fan of ebooks. I hate the idea of them, in fact. I fear that if we take away the physical side of writing then novels will become as much of the web has, this blog included, entirely disposable, throwaway and worthless. Writers are already paid a pittance, and now the publishers want to screw them even more by demanding larger than fair slices of royalties from ebook publications.

And yet, books... Lining the walls in neatly organised shelves they look fabulous. (Obviously I'm a fan, just look at the home page). But as people move into smaller and smaller apartments, as we move around more and more trying to keep down jobs and to maximise our worth in this most fragile of economies, you can see why an iPhone or an iPad or even a Kindle is so attractive. An entire library weighing no more than a bag of sugar? Cool.

I've already got over my CD collection. It's gone, in boxes, unloved and gathering dust. Will the books go the same way? I hope not. I really love reading books, turning pages and seeing them on the shelves. I was never good at sport, I was good at reading: these guys are my trophies. But I doubt my grandchildren will feel the same way about them. Indeed, they'll wonder how we survived under the weight of all this paper.

Monday, 11 October 2010

Once Upon a Time, at Harvard Culture: vanityfair.com


Once Upon a Time, at Harvard Culture: vanityfair.com

Saw The Social Network last night with Carmen. Both of us were really looking forward to it: the film has a good pedigree, a decent buzz and it's about a very major phenom in Facebook. We both left disappointed, though I have to say I still found the two hour flick interesting, fascinating.
Let's not talk about the performances. No one sucked. Most were good. But the performances aren't the point. What's at stake is how true it all is.
I've seen some strange quotes from the screenwriter, Aaron Sorkin, suggesting that truth and accuracy need not be one in the same thing. Well, no, not in this case.
Film makers have to wake up to something I think. If they are dealing with historical events: Tudor England, the Victorians, Ancient Greece, then playing fast and loose with the facts is fine. Everyone's dead. No one's reputation is at stake. And nobody sat and watched Gladiator thinking: which emperor is this supposed to be?
But The Social Network charts events from 2003. Disputed events. Events that are surrounded by a he said, she said culture. Events that were the subject of legal actions that sound less like disputes between business people and more like an ugly spat in the dorm room. Which is what they were. You have to get it right.
So who is the real Mark Zuckerberg? Is he the prick that screenwriter Aaron Sorkin portrays him as? The narrow minded, self obsessed, ex-girlfriend obsessed cyber nut who stole the initial idea off three fine young blue bloods and turned himself into a billionaire (screwing over his best pal en route)?
Or is he the good listener, philanthropist, genial ceo that the profiles in various newspapers have him to be?
He's still only 26 of course. He may well have been all of those things in the past few years. I know I matured a lot between the ages of 18 and 30, MZ will do the same I'm sure. Only he'll do it with a billion or two in the bank.
There were elements of the story I thought could have been brought out more. Nuances that muddy the waters. Like the fact that Facemash and then Facebook was partly inspired by college/high school culture: those year books they all have had been digitised. The idea was circulating around. What Zuckerberg did was make it work, he employed the latest technology, took advantage of broadband and digital photography, and he got it out there first.
Meanwhile, the blue bloods rested on their laurels. Or rather they got on with rowing and studying while Zuckerberg got on with coding. In that sense, you've got to admire MZ. He may well have been a bit scurrilous, but history has a tendency to only remember the winners.
As a film, The Social Newtork felt a bit lumpen. I expected more from the director David Fincher who seemed to struggle with the complexities of the legal action. As for the risible Henley regatta scenes (Prince Albert????) and boat race: yeah, Dave, we got it already. Most of the characters were introduced in fairly cliched ways... a series of CVs read out by one or other of the cast. Sort of. And it offered no sense of who Zuckerberg was: his background before Harvard. Did he have sisters? Family? Was he privileged or not? (He went to a private school, his parents were Jewish professionals...) All he told us was that he was a bit of a geek, a bit of a loner.
Oh, and then there was the sexism. Carmen thought it was the most sexist film she'd seen in ages. The women - girls - were almost exclusively in either their underwear or miniskirts, drinking cocktails, having sex or just looking good. The obvious exception was Erica, the girl who dumps Zuckerberg at the beginning of the film.
There's some effort by Fincher to address this balance. There is a thoughtful, insightful lawyer, a woman, who gives MZ some advice. But overall you are left with the sense that although it might be 2003 on the calendar - and this film is made in 2010 - Harvard still beats to the same drum that was sounding in the early 1980s. They even dress much the same way too. Beery parties, girls are for decoration, boys are in charge. Perhaps this is an accurate portrayal of American university life and indeed American corporate culture. Is it? If so... well they've got a way to go.
A miss. But intriguing just the same...

Wednesday, 6 October 2010

It's an age thing


Are some books always good? Or do all books need to be read at a certain time in life?
This has come up a couple of times at our polytitled book group (we change the name each month depending on the book we're reading. This week is it the Pentagram Architectura Coalition... though what this has to do with WG Sebald's Austerlitz I still don't know, because my copy hasn't arrived from Amazon yet)... it has come up a couple of times and while I was reading Philip Roth's The Human Stain it occured to me that this is exactly the kind of novel I'd have hated ten years ago.
Partly this would have been a reaction to my earliers self. I was a very serious undergraduate. Hell, I used to read Saul Bellow in my spare time... for laughs. Roth's world, in The Human Stain, strikes me as quite Bellowish. Small college. Political. Intellectual. Academic. Everyone is striving. Ambitious. Yet also so bitter and unhappy. Disappointed.
It's the kind of thing that as a 20-year-old I thought was incredibly important. Then I left university and worked in newspapers for ten years. That changed me. I admit it: I fell in love with froth, with the disposable. But I also fell in love with current affairs, the media and with people. Bellow-style academia seemed distant to me, and rather boring. I think I avoided Roth partly for this reason.
Now? The media interests me less, newspapers very little. Journalism has to some extent disappointed me as a career ( I thought it was for me, it isn't) and perhaps therefore I can empathise with curmudgeonly academics in a way I couldn't before.
The other reason of course is what I assumed, or was lead to believe Roth was. Sexist, old fashioned, bombastic. He's none of these things, not in this book anyway. Oh sure, there is one horrific female character. There are also some interesting ones, extremely positive. His portrait of Faunia, the young 'illiterate' mistress of his central character, Coleman Silk, is extremely moving. Utterly believable.
Although, I wonder a little... she is such a victim: would you write a character quite like that now? Does the horror of being abused as a young child carry the same power as it did when this book came out - ten and more years ago. We've been numbed to the idea a little, I think, in part by its ubiquity in novels. Everyone from the pulpiest thriller writer to the more literary -- Kate Atkinson's Case Histories comes to mind -- has employed the paedophile as the latter day equivalent of the Nazi. the bad guy no one need find any good in.
Roth's book isn't about paedophilia, and it is the stronger for it. Its about sexism, racism, the abuse of truth, its about how gossip is so often mistaken for fact -- I know a bit about that as a former gossip column journalist. I found it incredibly powerful and while his prose style is certainly demanding it has left me wanting to read more. Yes, I just might just go to Waterstones now and see if their 3 for 2 on all Roths still applies...

Tuesday, 5 October 2010

Monster High takes a bite out of Barbie









Lisi Harrison's new series for young teens, Monster High, isn't just a book series: its a multi media toy megabrand.

With its gothic make up and vamped up vampires Monster High is an hilarious counterpoint to the nicey-nice world of Barbie.

Harrison's first Monster High yarn was, I thought, weirdly brilliant - just as it should have been.

If you like these books check out Carmen Reid's St Jude's series. There are no monsters, but they are equally entertaining and brilliant. Plus, Carmen is my other, far more talented half.


*

High School is bad enough when you are 15 years old and relatively normal looking. But imagine if you were just 15 days old, had steel bolts in your neck and seams on your skin showing where your arms have been stitched together. And what if you were green instead of a nice fleshy pink or brown?
Put it another way, how difficult would being a teenager be if you were a monster? And before you say, ‘well no change there then’, author Lisi Harrison tells you that that is just the point of her new series, Monster High
“Oh it’s a big metaphor,” she laughs. “I tried to make these characters like real high school characters. They are all dealing with something that we’ve all dealt with in high school or middle school, something they are embarrassed about.
“Going through puberty and changes in your body and your world can leave you feeling like a monster, something that’s horrifying.
“For instance, Clawdeen the werewolf is dealing with major hairgrowth issues – and every kid deals with that! Frankie Stein has her skin colour which is definitely an issue with a lot of people in this country. And Lala [full name: Draculaura] has her fangs which reminds me of when I got braces and became really self conscious of my teeth.
“Even the Jekyll and Hyde character, Jackson, well every girl I know dated that guy: really nice one minute and a total jerk the next. I wanted to draw these characters in such a way as you might think maybe there are monsters in this world. The message behind it is that we should all be celebrating our differences rather than hiding them.”
Harrison, a former MTV producer who has a bestselling US high school series The Clique (think Gossip Girl for juniors) says monsters wasn’t what appealed about the idea at first. In fact it was Mattel.
The US toy giant approached her with a collection of dolls and the offer that she make up a series of books about them. Blatantly commercial it might be but it’s working. The figures are now sold out in the US and a spin off single (‘Monster High’) is even doing well on MTV. Kids are already turning up at book signings carrying the dolls and wearing the T-shirt.
“At first I wasn’t interested because monsters aren’t my thing, but they wanted the books to be funny, they knew my other books, and so they gave me the freedom to pretty much do what I want. The experience has been really positive and they have been great,” she says.
“OK, they have a brand to uphold and yes, they did insist on taking one thing out – when Claudine [central character Melody’s older sis] names her boobs Coco and Chanel after her favourite designer.” Lisi releases another whooping laugh. “One day I’ll write a book with that in, and you’ll know why!” she promises.

This interview was published in Big Issue Scotland magazine, October 12 2010

Wednesday, 29 September 2010

Percy Miliband and Ed Weasley



Ed Milliband... the younger brother. So ambitious, he won't even let family stand in his way. He's scrapped and scraped together enough support to win the Labour leadership, by less than 1 per cent of the over all vote, despite the bulk of the outgoing shadow cabinet voting against him, and a majority of the Labour MPs preferring his big brother David.
Ed Miliband is the Percy Weasley of Labour politics. Not because he is secretly ginger -- this may or may not be the case -- but because his singular vision, of him at the absolute top, isn't at all blurred by any sense of loyalty to those he grew up with or, indeed to reality.
His speech yesterday ranged from the dull, mechanical fodder of a career politician to the words of a man who is capable of extraordinary powers of selective memory. Turns out Ed was against the war. That will be why he led all those marches... wrote the manifesto that was against Iraq.... oh, no, he did neither of those things. But he was against it. Honestly.
For all his faults, back when he became leader of the opposition Tony Blair was a politician you could really believe in. He was offering something new, something fresh.
Ed? Not so far.
We'll see. Sometimes leaders take time to grow into their positions. But first impressions so often count the best. And the first impression today is that Labour voted for the wrong Miliband.

Thursday, 23 September 2010

Blockbusters


CHAPTER 11 isn't bankruptcy, but it's close to it and the fact that Blockbuster has just filed for it should make all of us late 30s/early 40s stop, breathe in and take a moment.
Another slice of our childhood is about to go down the pan.
The video is probably the defining item of our generation. My older brother -- nine years senior ot me -- might have had the LP, but we had Apocalypse Now on VHS. And Ferris Bueller. And...oh gawd, Porky's.
And we had a membership card for the video rental shop. Some of which we actually paid an annual membership for.
Ha!
Blockbuster has been living on borrowed time for an age now. Its the digital age, already. And cinema is cool again. Who needs to have a collection of a hundred plus DVDs at home? Who needs one?
Hollywood can't sell us a DVD of everything it produces... can it? Our tiny little flats and houses are already stuffed full. We want our cupboards back and really, are you saying to me that I need my own copy of all the Jason Stathams?
Actually, I've never watched fewer films than I do now. Or less television. I'm extremely picky, read a vast amount more, and would rather spend an evening cooking a fantastic meal and drinking a bottle of red wine than sitting on the sofa with a bucket of nachos/Butterkist watching a double bill of The Exorcist and Saw IV rented for over three quid each at the local Blockbusters.
RIP the DVD shop.
RIP vast dusty collections of discs in plastic cases bought for extortionate prices and now utterly worthless.

Tuesday, 21 September 2010

Super Sad True Love Story



Gary Shteyngart’s new novel Super Sad True Love Story is set in a sort of New York 12.0. Technology has been supercharged. The iPhone is now a relic, replaced by a far more powerful device called the apparat, a gizmo that defines its owner as no other has done before.

As a result, the interface between the real world and the virtual world has utterly broken down so it is no longer possible to walk down a street without broadcasting your credit, personality and hotness ratings at those around you.

People no longer read books – indeed, the very physical presence of printed pages seems to make most nauseous. Instead, they scan information, stream video content, blog, instant message, or spend hours “teening” – like Facebook, but squared.

“I’d noticed how everything was trending digital and I was the last man on my block without all these technical emergents,” the author says – while speaking, not via a video conference call on a split new iPhone but on his old fashioned land line from his apartment in New York.

“And so I got a young research assistant who got me onto the internet, to facebook, an iphone – and made a man out of me.”

The experience wasn’t all bad – but certainly not all good – and it lies at the heart of what is Shteyngart’s third novel, a darkly comic dystopian satire that comes after the equally acclaimed Absurdistan and The Russian Debutante’s Handbook.

“The ‘ol’ intertube’ has been ok to me,” Shteyngart laughs. “Writing is very difficult but I found that it was very easy to put up pictures of my daschund and a little commentary on Facebook. “The ‘intertube’ is very conformist,” he adds. “It is touted as this great harbinger of individuality but I find myself constanty skewing to the medium of the norm. It’s in fiction that I find I am able to go bananas and say whatever is on my mind.

“The iphone is very helpful when you get lost in a foreign city – you ask it where to go and it tells you. But you can’t really discover anything anymore on your own so it has taken a lot of spontaneity out of my life.

“The dreams of democracy nurtured by the internet have not come true. You have to fight for democracy with your fists.”

While SSTLS might qualify as (extremely funny) sci-fi, Shteyngart makes it quite clear that he is writing about the present. In his warped version of Manhattan, the obsession with money, fashion and youth has become all pervasive and the pornographic has become norm: the women wear outrageous transparent skin tight jeans called onionskins, cupless bras and “Total Surrender panties”.

The hero of the book, Lenny Abraham, believes he is all but dead at 39 and dreams of being rich enough to be able to afford the dubious medical treatment he himself sells to “high net worth individuals” which promises immortality. “Lenny’s ‘Post Human Services’ is only a caricature of a something that already exists,” Shteyngart points out.

In this dystopian world, America’s economy has crashed, the dollar is pegged to the Chinese yuan, and politics is dominated by an incompetent one party government while the young generation sleepwalks its way into ever greater amounts of debt.

Interestingly, the starting point for this book came in 2006 when Shteyngart asked himself: “Hey what if the banks collapsed?” Then when they did he was left with the task of imagining a future extreme enough not to have come true by the time the book came out.

“It all seemed very unsustainable, especially the real estate prices in a city like New York, but really all over the country,” Shteyngart says of the credit boom years. “Secretaries with twenty thousand dollar salaries were suddenly putting down half a million dollar mortgages. The whole things seemed so ridiculous because if the salaries aren’t increasing then something had got to give. In the end something really did give.

“Economic and political decline are often connected,” he continues. “As America’s economy declines we will get the worse kind of politicians, in our case even more right wing.”

The result is a 21st century version of Orwell’s 1984. There’s also an intriguing layer of autobiography to it. The lead character, Lenny Abraham, is (like the author) a New York Russian Jew who loves reading books, and who falls in love with the incredibly young, amazingly thin Eunice Park, a Korean American with a troubled family history and a truly awful credit rating. Shteyngart himself is engaged to a Korean American and admits that he has “dipped from the well of the personal” to write his fiction.

Born in Leningrad in 1972 and who only moved to America as a seven year old child, the author admits his immigrant status and his experience of the collapse of the Soviet empire colours his view of the world. But he really does fear for America’s future.

“The best we can hope for is a gradual landing, like the Dutch Empire way back when: a loosening of our power but a maintaining of our standard of living,” he says. “The danger is that we become a large Argentina: a country which had a great middle class way of life a century ago, but which in a few decades turned into a developing country.”

· Gary Shteyngart’s Super Sad True Love Story is published by Granta, £12.99 (blog as published in Big Issue Scotland, Sept 27, 2010)