Sunday, 20 October 2013

#226 Politics and the English Language (1946)


Author: George Orwell
Title: Politics and the English Language
Genre: Language
Year: 1946
Pages: 30
Origin: read on the Kindle for 99p
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5



‘A writer who is still vividly contemporary… Orwell told the truth’
 Christopher Hitchens
 
The Worm cannot add to the vast collection of superlatives attached to George Orwell. The more the Worm reads, the more he subscribes to the view that Orwell is a heavyweight – and perhaps lynchpin – of twentieth century English fiction.

However, this essay – Politics and the English Language – is not fiction, but rather an analysis of the state of language. Within it he attacks the seeming debasement of the English language; a vehicle hijacked by political demagogues and slack thinkers. Orwell believes that writers have lost their grip on the essentials, and as a result both writer and reader are in a race for the bottom.

Such ideas would be expanded on greatly in one of his most popular works, Nineteen Eighty-Four (particular in the restriction placed on the concept language Newspeak: “doubleplusgood”). And in this essay, Orwell rallies against complacency, the misuses and abuses of the English language:

‘Most people who bother with the matter at all would admit that the English is in a bad way, but it is generally assumed that we cannot by conscious action do anything about it. Our civilization is decadent, and our language – so the argument runs – must inevitably share in the general collapse. It follows that any struggle against the abuse of language is a sentimental archaism, like preferring candles to electric light or hansom cabs to aeroplanes. Underneath this lies the half-conscious belief that language is a natural growth and not an instrument which we shape for our own purposes. Now, it is clear that the decline of a language must ultimately have political and economic causes: it is not due simply to the bad influences of this or that individual writer…. Modern English, especially written English, is full of bad habits which spread by imitation and which can be avoided if one is willing to take the necessary trouble. If one gits rid of these habits one can think more clearly, and to think clearly is a necessary first step towards political regeneration: so that the fight against bad English is not frivolous and is not the exclusive concern of professional writers.’


In order to combat this, Orwell constructs a manifesto of Six Rules. The first is never to use a metaphor or simile which you are used to seeing in print and to avoid ‘dying metaphors’ and ‘phrases tacked together like the sections of a pre-fabricated henhouse’. The second is to always use short words, rather than long ones in the hope of gaining ‘precision’. The third recommends always cutting out words if possible. The fourth: use the active voice, rather than passive. The firth rule asks the writer to avoid foreign and scientific words, and especially useless jargon and ‘meaningless words’; hopefully this would remove ‘pretentious diction’. The sixth rule: break any of the above rules rather than say anything ‘barbarous’.

The Worm has mused over these rules, but admits that he has often contradicted them (after all, he believes his book reviews are all ‘sound and fury, signifying nothing’!). And even Orwell breaks the manifesto rules, admitting as much in this essay. However, if such rules are kept in mind, then Orwell hopes that ‘staleness of imagery’ and ‘lack of precision’ can be avoided.

Orwell could be accused of being a pedant. He is scathing of other writers, but he is both clinical and playful in his condemnation of ‘bad English’. The writing – as adhered by his own standards – remains fresh and exciting; just as if it was written in 2013, and not 1946. He remains an honest voice in a sea of filthy lies.

Apologies, George, but an ending metaphor was the best this Worm could do.

Wednesday, 25 September 2013

#225 The Day of the Triffids (1951)

Author: John Wyndham
Title: The Day of the Triffids
Genre: Novel
Year: 1951
Pages: 230
Origin: bought from a second-hand bookshop
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5

 

‘When a day that you happen to know is Wednesday starts off by sounding like Sunday, there is something seriously wrong somewhere.’


And so begins one of modern fiction’s great opening lines, the start of influential novel The Day of the Triffids. It is a work that has long fascinated the Worm, chiefly in his televised format of the original series many years ago, and less thrillingly in the 2009 remake. But, just what are these triffids, the Worm hears you ask excitedly?

Triffids are a tall and carnivorous plant species created by Wyndham. They are gangly and have the ability to walk using their roots in a freakishly sinister awkward way. Wyndham leaves the floor open as to their appearance: natural, or – as perhaps more likely – a man-made creation. In civilised society, the triffids are seen as a source of amusement and adornment in homes of the wealthy. But in Wyndham’s world, civilisation is coming to a close.

The book’s narrator and main character, Bill Masen, recounts the growth of triffids in his younger years. As a man who has worked with the fearsome plants, he notes a former co-worker’s ominous words: ‘If it were a choice for survival between a triffid and a blind man, I know which I’d put my money on.’ And, as luck would have, shooting stars falling to the planet result in the loss of sight for most of the world’s population. Bill, ironically in hospital and having surgery on his eyes, finds out – to his horror – that he must use his visual ability in the helping of others. The principal person of his endeavours is Josella (a continuing theme of the book is the rather oddly and awkward character names).

There are many shortcomings in this novel: the lack of a central plot, with the author instead moving Bill here, there and everywhere. Characters come and go, and none of them and entirely gripping or noteworthy. Also, the dialogue is close to cringe worthy, thereby stunting the growth of the characters and the reader’s attachment to them.

But The Day of the Triffids is a book about ideas, rather than plot or characters. This big idea being: what happens when the apocalypse comes. In the book’s introduction (a rather interesting one, the Worm being thankful of his particular edition), Barry Langford notes that the book may ‘sound merely a parody of the worst pulp clichés of fifties science fiction.’ However, Wyndham got there before many others; bringing about further originality with the appearance of the triffids and what they mean for human ingenuity and our ability to play God.

It is Bill’s striving for a brave new world that makes this short book an enjoyable read. Should they revert to a militaristic ‘neo-feudal plan’, turn to socialism, or instead pin their hopes on religious devotion? As Josella states towards the coming of the book’s climax:

‘Do you think we could – do you think we should be justified in starting a myth to help them? A story of a world that we wonderfully clever, but so wicked that it had to be destroyed – or destroyed itself by accident? Something like the Flood again. That wouldn’t crush them with inferiority – it could give the incentive to build, and this time to build something better.’


The next generation are to be left a harsh and daunting inheritance. Such a generation is not recounted in this tale (although there is a somewhat dubious follow-up to Wyndham’s work, The Night of the Triffids… something tells the Worm it will not be enjoyed as much). But Wyndham’s message was originally to the world of the 1950s: that of two rival ideologies and the threat of nuclear devastation. As a message, it rings very true in the twenty-first century.

 
 

Sunday, 22 September 2013

The Virginia Woolf-Email Connection

Whilst reading John Naughton’s entertaining book – A Brief History of the Future: The Origins of the Internet – the Worm came across an interesting comparison: that of the technology of email and the author Virginia Woolf.

Allow the author, Naughton, to do the talking:

‘What makes email special is that it’s a strange blend of writing and talking. Although messages are typed, most of them read like stream-of-consciousness narratives, the product of people typing as fast as they can think. They are often full of typos and misspellings, and niceties like apostrophes often fall by the wayside. Indeed I sometimes think that the missing apostrophes are the key to understanding it. Sitting reading e-mail messages I am often reminded of the letters and diaries of Virginia Woolf, surely one of the greatest correspondents and diarists of the twentieth century. Her private jottings have the same racing immediacy, the same cavalier way with apostrophes, the same urgency.’


Naughton goes on to show examples from one of Woolf’s letters (dated 28 December 1929) and a recent email from a friend. The similarities are striking.

‘These two passages are separated by sixty-seven years and a world of social change, yet they clearly belong to the same genre – a highly personalised, subjective, compressed kind of reportage which blends external observations with private experience and eschews the typographic conventions usually employed to distinguish between one and the other.’


The author concludes with the belief that Woolf ‘would have loved email’. If only laptops and iPads were made available to great modernist writers such as Woolf, Joyce and Faulkner! The Worm likes to think that these heavyweights of literature would not be tempted by the dangerous time wasting peril that is Angry Birds.

Saturday, 21 September 2013

#224 Isambard Kingdom Brunel (1957)

Author: L.T.C. Rolt
Title: Isambard Kingdom Brunel
Genre: Biography
Year: 1957
Pages: 430
Origin: bought from a second-hand bookshop
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5
 

 

In 2002, the BBC conducted a public poll in the hope of piecing together a collection of the 100 Greatest Britons. The list was populated with the usual suspects: Winston Churchill and Queen Elizabeth (and somewhat annoyingly, Princess Diana). But one name reached a height that surprised all: Isambard Kingdom Brunel.
 
Depending on your location in this fair country of ours (the United Kingdom, that is), Brunel’s name holds a particular attraction. In the westcountry and south of England he is widely seen as the father of the railway and the man who brought transport to the masses through his fine aequducts and famous bridges. He is highly thought of as a true engineering genius who was always stretching for more and better; his name being synonymous with the success of the Victorian age and its engineering magnificence. Who better, one could say, then a biographer who knows a thing or two about engineering. Step forward, L.T.C. Rolt.

Hailed by R.A. Buchanan as ‘the outstanding popular historian of engineering history and biography in the twentieth century’, Rolt completed several biographies on some of rails biggest names (including the big duo of George and Robert Stephenson). The Worm was lucky enough to pick up a cheap copy of a later edition of this book; one that – somewhat charmingly and honestly - kept the inaccuracies of the original edition (as well as Rolt’s erroneous blaming of others for some of Brunel’s mistakes). The book is divided into three sections: the birth and early years of Brunel’s career; his work on the railways and growth of the Great Western Railway company; the outline of his other exploits, including the building of the large ships the Great Western, Briton and Great Eastern. Detail is expanded on in some of Brunel’s notable achievements, as well as his engineering ability: including the Gauge war and his atmospheric experiments on rail.

It is clear that Rolt knows his stuff – the book is packed with engineering know-how. Luckily for the Worm (and other non-engineer enthusiasts) the author knows how to keep things simple and avoid tedious long pieces of dull information. Furthermore, Rolt knows how to string a sentence or two. For example, take his description of Brunel’s tragic viewing of the Royal Albert Bridge at the end of his life:
 
‘on a specially prepared platform truck, while one of Gooch’s locomotives drew him very slowly beneath the pier arches and over the great girders. For his railway career was ended. Broken by the last and most ambitious of all his schemes – his great ship – Brunel was dying… the engineer still blazed with defiant, unquenchable courage'.


 And here we have his writing on the mayhem that was the construction of the Thames Tunnel:

'And what an amazing drama it was, this stubborn struggle between man and earth which went on relentlessly, month after month, year after year in the darkness under the Thames. Always dramatic, and sometimes tragic, upon one occasion it became sheer fantasy’.


However, much of this effect is spoilt by Rolt’s continuing deference and fawning over Brunel throughout the entirety of the book. Rather than take the stance of critical biographer, Rolt plays the role of Head of the Brunel Fan-club. The faults of some of Brunel’s works (rail and boat) is not on the head of the engineer, but on the heads of others; with biased utterances found within each chapter. In places Rolt’s dramatic touches excite him to fever pitch; Brunel, he states with ‘no exaggeration’ was the ‘last great figure of the European Renaissance.’

But, the Worm is ready to forgive such an uncritical piece of work, such is the author’s clear enthusiasm for all things Brunel. Rolt’s sentimentality is shown in his – somewhat naïve words – about today’s biographies: ‘It has become fashionable nowadays not to praise famous men but to belittle them.’ Furthermore, his research is wide-reaching, taking in contemporary sources, family papers, and Brunel’s notebooks (some of which are no longer available for future biographers). As such, Rolt’s piece of work is one of considerable worth, despite its defects.

It is clear that Brunel lived a fantastic life, even if he did die at a relatively young age. The book’s cover notes this work as ‘the definitive biography of the engineer, visionary and great Briton.’ Engineer, visionary and great Briton, he undoubtedly was; but the claim of definitive biography is one that does not hold up.

Buy it here

Saturday, 10 August 2013

#223 The Medieval Anarchy: History in an Hour (2012)

Author: Kaye Jones 
Title: The Medieval Anarchy: History in an Hour 
Genre: History Year: 2012 Pages: 60 
Origin: read on the Kindle for 99p 
Nod Rating: 1 nod out of 5 


The Medieval Anarchy is one of those periods in history that get little to no coverage. The Tudors and the Nazis control the airwaves and the book shelves, proving to be the kings of historical popularity. But there are fascinating eras and figures off the beaten track for those adventurous readers ready to discover.

The Anarchy goes under other names, including the Worm’s favourite: Nineteen Years of Winter. It was an English civil war, breaking out on the death of Henry I (a son of William the Conqueror) in 1135. He bequeathed England to his daughter, Matilda, but on his death the key nobles fled to Henry’s nephew, Stephen, who seized the crown (there really should be more King Steves in history). Backed up by her husband and his French held lands, Matilda launched a war against Stephen to gain her inheritance, taking the best part of two decades until a stalemate resulted. An agreement was reached, with Stephen passing on the kingdom to Matilda’s son (another Henry); an event that occurred on Stephen’s death in 1153.

Jones does an adequate job of recounting the narrative of the civil war, stating some of the chief battles and main players. She consults the Anglo Saxon Chronicle which stated: ‘The earth bare no corn, for the land was all laid waste by such deeds; and they said openly, that Christ slept, and his saints. Such things, and more than we can say, suffered we nineteen winters for our sins’.

The Anarchy is little known when compared to England’s seemingly de-facto Civil War, the one waged in the seventeenth century that resulted in the beheading of Charles I. But there is value within this era, including England’s first queen and leading female in politics (Matilda) as well as disagreement and discord between the chief nobles of the country. Both of these features are given greater credence in that popular of dynasties, the Tudors, that it is a shame that similar attention cannot be paid here.

Ultimately, the book does what it says in its title: History in an hour. Such a remit, then, does not bode well for those wanting an in-depth analytical look into the past and the key events that happened. However, the Worm finds it hard to find a difference between this particular book on the Anarchy when compared with a Wikipedia article. If anything, the Wikipedia articles holds greater treasure for the interested reader, allowing hyperlinks to all and sundry (and the Wikipedia-surfers amongst us will attest to whittling away hours clicking on link after link). Therefore, the reader is best keeping their one pound and logging onto the information-highway for all their needs. People still say “information-highway”, right?

Sunday, 28 July 2013

#222 A Hero of Our Time (1841)

Author: Mikhail Lermontov
Title: A Hero of Our Time
Genre: Novel
Year: 1841
Pages: 190
Origin: read on the Kindle
Nod Rating: 5 nods out of 5


A second reading carries with it many heavy dangers. With the best of books a gratifying and lasting impression is left on the reader; the return of a read can explode earlier held beliefs. Second time round the plot-line is considered pedestrian, the characters two-dimensional, and the cynic within you takes control, finger-pointing all the flaws within the pages of the book. A Hero of Our Time was a second-read, and having consumed the first twenty or so pages the Worm had the sinking feeling that he had made a BIG mistake.

But alas, have no fear: A Hero of Our Time was and remains a 5 nodder read. A truly exceptional book written by a rather exceptional man following the exploits of a - yes, you guessed it - a perplexing and exceptional character. The novel follows the life of Pechorin, a man with more than an ample sprinkling of star-dust; all who come into contact are either dazzled or ignited with fury. The book’s structure is divided into shorter segments, with the chronology jumbled. The stories are told from different perspectives, thereby keeping this short read fresh and engaging. Each segment brings about a greater understanding of Pechorin, the anti-hero who can never commit, the man who strives his best to make sure he doesn't do any good and to avoid becoming bored by the life around him. His earlier confidante, Maksim Maksimych, says of him:

‘He was a splendid fellow, I can assure you, but a little peculiar. Why, to give you an instance, one time he would stay out hunting the whole day, in the rain and cold; the others would all be frozen through and tired out, but he wouldn’t mind either cold or fatigue. Then, another time, he would be sitting in his own room, and, if there was a breath of wind, he would declare that he had caught cold…Often enough you couldn’t drag a word out of him for hours together; but then, on the other hand, sometimes when he started telling stories, you would split your sides with laughing. Yes, sir, a very eccentric man…’
However, he also admits that ‘there are some people with whom you absolutely have to agree’, with Pechorin being one of them. Pechorin can be seen as one particular character in a long list of anti-heroes in fiction. It was part of the “genre” of the superfluous man story; a theme picked up by other writers, notably the works by Turgenev. These Russian writers of the “golden generation” were influenced by earlier English poets, including the notion of the Byronic hero. As Pechorin tells Maksim Maksimych: ‘Mine is an unfortunate disposition; whether it is the result of my upbringing or whether it is innate – I know not. I only know this, that if I am the cause of unhappiness in others I myself am no less unhappy’, further noting that he does not know whether he is ‘a fool or a villain’. Such uncertainty reflects the shifting attitudes of a new generation within this time period. Yet he has a longing to find a home where he truly belongs; believing that this cannot be found in his current era amongst a generation that is going to waste:

‘I returned home by the deserted byways o the village. The moon, full and red like the glow of a conflagration, was beginning to make its appearance from behind the jagged horizon of the house-tops; the stars were shining tranquilly in the deep, blue vault of the sky; and I was struck by the absurdity of the idea when I recalled to mind that once upon a time there were some exceedingly wise people who thought that the stars of heaven participated in our insignificant squabbles for a slice of ground, or some other imaginary rights. And what then? These lamps, lighted, so they fancied, only to illuminate their battles and triumphs, are burning with all their former brilliance, whilst the wiseacres themselves, together with their hopes and passions, have long been extinguished, like a little fire kindled at the edge of a forest by a careless wayfarer! But, on the other hand, what strength of will was lent them by the conviction that the entire heavens, with their innumerable habitants, were looking at them with a sympathy, unalterable, though mute! And we, their miserable descendents, roaming over the earth, without faith, without pride, without enjoyment, and without terror – except that involuntary awe which makes the heart shrink at the thought of the inevitable end – we are no longer capable of great sacrifices, either for the good of mankind or even for our own happiness, because we know the impossibility of such happiness; and, just as our ancestors used to fling themselves from one delusion to another, we pass indifferently from doubt to doubt, without possessing, as they did, either hope or even that vague though, at the same time, keen enjoyment which the soul encounters at every struggle with mankind or with destiny.’
Struggling to find his meaning in life, Pechorin is compelling throughout; but his actions add an ironic tone to the book’s title and fuels debate as to what it means to be a hero in such an era. As the preface notes:

A Hero of Our Time, my dear readers, is indeed a portrait, but not of one man. It is a portrait built up of all our generation's vices in full bloom. You will again tell me that a human being cannot be so wicked, and I will reply that if you can believe in the existence of all the villains of tragedy and romance, why wouldn't believe that there was a Pechorin? If you could admire far more terrifying and repulsive types, why aren't you more merciful to this character, even if it is fictitious? Isn't it because there's more truth in it than you might wish?’
The likes of Grushnitski – one of Pechorin’s chief rivals – still cling to the old, failing romantic ideas. As Pechorin himself notes, Grushnitski has an aim ‘to make himself the hero of a novel’, adding an additional tongue-in-cheek remark relating to the book’s title. His hostility to those around him, people whom he believes are fakes and phonies (a theme later picked up by another anti-hero, Holden Caulfield, in The Catcher in the Rye), noting: ‘I sometimes despise myself. Is not that the reason why I despise others also?’

Pechorin could be considered a closely veiled version of the author, Lermontov. The writer is an intriguing person, having lived a short life, dying at the age of twenty-six in a duel; much like his hero Pushkin, and a fate avoided by the scheming of Pechorin in the novel. Such a death-wish hints at a nihilistic streak favoured by so many of these writers and their characters, including – again – Turgenev’s interesting young generation in Fathers and Sons (another book the Worm fears returning to for a second-read).

His eventual fate is left unsaid and unknown. The compelling heart of this novel is that each reader will take home a different idea of Pechorin, thereby defeating any hopes to truly understanding him. As he states towards one of the stories climaxes: ‘And tomorrow, it may be, I shall die! And there will not be left on earth one being who has understood me completely’. The Worm beseeches all who read this blog to pick up a copy as soon as possible and to attempt the great-game of understanding Pechorin.

Buy it here

Wednesday, 24 July 2013

#221 The Best of Betjeman (1978)

Author: John Betjeman
Title: The Best of Betjeman
Genre: Poetry/Prose
Year: 1978
Pages: 340
Origin: bought from a second-hand bookshop
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5


‘Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
It isn’t fit for humans now,
There isn’t grass to graze a cow
Swarm over, Death!’
This is, of course, the famous first verse from Betjeman’s poem ‘Slough’, initially published in 1937 before the outbreak of the Second World War. Although probably Betjeman’s mostly often uttered words, it is just one poem in a larger collection put together in the late 1970s by John Guest. The Worm came into this collection with limited background knowledge on Betjeman, but having decided to plough through the Poet Laureates of Britain’s past (having already read and reviewed a book from both Carol Ann Duffy and Andrew Motion) the Worm found a well-preserved copy of The Best of Betjeman, thereby giving ample opportunity to delve into the work of Britain’s Poet Laureate between the years 1972 and 1984.

Betjeman was a popular poet, in that the greater public – and not just those few who part with their pence to buy a volume every now and then – knew of him. He was a poet for the growth of the media age, appearing on both radio and television. Furthermore, he wrote poetry in a Britain that endured some of its worst and horrifying moments (the falling bombs of the Second World War, economic uncertainty, and the decline of empire), as well as some of its most fantastic occasions (V-Day, the arrival of the NHS, and the Britain when – apparently - ‘it never had it so good’). Suffice to say, this collection – spanning five decades – shows the country during its changing moods.

The Best of Betjeman contains poems taken from the major works of the poet’s career, including Zion (1932), Continual Dew (1937), Old Lights for New Chancels (1940), New Bats in Old Belfries (1945), Selected Poems (1948), A Few Late Chrysanthemums (1954), Collected Poems (1958), High and Low (1966), and A Nip in the Air (1974). Furthermore, the collection also includes a vast sum of Betjeman’s prose work, including many writings from English Parish Churches (something that Guest makes ‘no apology’ for), and Metro-land, a script written for television. All of this allows the reader to confidently state that the book is a comprehensive gathering of Betjeman’s most famous and quality work.

Favourite reads for the Worm include ‘Death in Leamington’ (the first poem in this collection), ‘Trebetherick’, ‘Group Life: Letchworth’, ‘In Westminster Abbey’, ‘Henley-On-Thames’, and the short yet intriguing ‘In a Bath Teashop’. As can be easily deduced by these titles alone, Betjeman was a thoroughly English poet. His words reflect his own attitudes: a man tightly bound to the Victorian world and its values. As such, he was a man increasingly “out of time” during the course of his life, however, his work frequently succeeded in striking a chord with a nation that was not ready to jettison its once illustrious past. Other writers and musicians remained attached to Britain’s past, with the Worm recalling The Kinks lyrics to 'The Village Green Preservation Society': ‘We are the village green preservation society… God save strawberry jam and all the different varieties…God save little shops, china cups, and virginity…’ What The Kinks done for pop music, Betjeman done in the written word.

This satirical eye on the change within the country – a transformation of Merry Old England – is found in his most famous poem (yes, it’s that one again): ‘Slough’. He warns of the conflict and horror caused by an industrialising society, one that dismisses its past with a sneer and whole-heartedly embraces new technology without a thought on what is being lost. In many ways, it predicts the later malaise within British society; this is a theme picked up by many other writers, including the turn of the century show The Office; set where else than Slough itself.

It would be a lie for the Worm to call himself a big fan of Betjeman’s work. In the recent book-reading season the Worm has had the pleasure in devouring other poets, including that of T.S. Eliot. Both of these writers are distinctly different, but yet they remain bound in their critical view of the changing world. Such output by these two clearly shows just how wide and diverse the world of poetry can be.

The Best of Betjeman is probably the most comprehensive edition that be ever be sought after for those unacquainted with Betjeman’s work. It is one that makes the reader thoroughly British, leaving a hankering to visit many of the towns and places mentioned by the author. As for the Worm, he goes in search of books and collections from the Poet Laureates on either side of Betjeman’s tenure: Ted Hughes or Cecil-Day Lewis. Which one will be first to the Worm’s reading-table? You dear readers will simply have to wait. O, the excitement!


Buy it here

Monday, 22 July 2013

#220 The French Revolution (2009)

Author: Peter Davies
Title: The French Revolution
Genre: History
Year: 2009
Pages: 170
Origin: bought in a second-hand bookshop
Nod Rating: 2 nods out of 5


In terms of famous (or is that, rather, infamous) revolutions, the French Revolution has a strong claim to be top of the list. Yes, you may point to the Russian Revolution and the rise of the Communists as one with lasting ramifications for the global picture in the twentieth century, or even dust off England’s very own “Glorious Revolution” of 1688; but in terms of power and romance, the French Revolution comes out on tops. Plus, it has one lasting, blood-curdling symbol: that of the guillotine.

Despite this awareness of the revolution’s importance, the Worm was none the wiser over its actual course and main players. Therefore, he was thankful in picking up Peter Davies’ ‘Beginner Guide’ on the revolution (with the intention of moving upwards to meatier works, including that of Simon Schama’s Citizens). In under two-hundred pages Davies – using his expertise within this period of history – recounts the problems with the Old Regime, the origin and causation of the revolution in 1789, as well as the successive waves of revolution throughout the 1790s. These include the liberal revolution (1790-92), the growth of war and terror (92-94), the counter revolution, the Thermidorian Reaction (94-95), the resulting Directory (95-99), all before the usurpation and elevation of Napoleon Bonaparte.

It is no overestimation to state that this decade is one of frantic change and upheaval, the likes of which would cause lesser historians to recoil in terror. Davies, however, manages to sum up the main events in an easy and affable manner. Of course, substance of an enjoyable and engaging narrative was beyond the remit of such a book, but the author does pull a few tricks out of the historical hat in the form of pithy quotes and the analysis of key turning points.

Debate has raged for more than two hundred years regarding the revolution. In the 1790s it took form between two heavyweights in Thomas Paine and Edmund Burke, whilst during the nineteenth century it was contested between conservatives and liberals, leading us into the twentieth century with the rise of Marxist perspectives. Our vantage point in 2013 provides no shade from such deliberations, and thankfully in this so-called “post-ideological” age the French Revolution continues to rattle the cages; such a question is given space in this book in Davies’ final chapter, ‘The French Revolution today’. Davies turns to the words of Jean Baudrillard in his analysis of France’s relationship with its past: ‘This is a country that lives too much from commemorations and from a patrimony of symbolic inheritances. Now it is in the process of congratulating itself about the Revolution. .The French live in cultural incest.’ And in keeping its tag as the world’s “number one” revolution, thankfully it will not die a death anytime soon.

Buy it here

Tuesday, 16 July 2013

#219 Eichmann and the Holocaust (1963)

Author: Hannah Arendt
Title: Eichmann and the Holocaust
Genre: Political
Year: 1963
Pages: 130
Origin: from a second-hand bookshop in Cornwall
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

‘It was sheer thoughtlessness that predisposed him to become on the greatest criminals of the period.’
And so states the subheading on the cover of Hannah Arendt’s influential analysis of the trail of the infamous Adolf Eichmann some fifty years ago. In many ways, it is in the running for the much used tag “trial of the century”, such is the colour of its background and meaning for the post-war world.

Eichmann had been hiding in South America since the end of Nazi Germany’s defeat, before being captured by Israeli agents and taken home to face trial in an Israeli court for crimes against humanity. Eichmann was found guilty and subsequently hung in 1962. Clearly, Eichmann is not the most well-known of Adolfs – Herr Hitler wins hands down on this score – however, he is in the public conscious in relation to the Nazi top brass. Arendt’s book reveals that this is perhaps not the case, but Eichmann’s big, trumpeted trial in the early 1960s has etched out a place in history otherwise not deserved.

For Arendt – a Jew who fled Hitler’s Germany – it could be seen as a time for reckoning. However, throughout her engaging flow of words is an attempt to dig deeper and go beyond the meaning and reactions of the surface feeling. Eichmann is not portrayed as the stereotypical Nazi: hatred for all and a quench to conquer; but rather as a simple man attempting to impress his superiors by following orders. She paints a picture of Eichmann as a man who bears no guilt or responsibility, as he was ‘doing his job’. As this slim volume’s book highlights, it such ‘thoughtlessness’ of the effect of these actions that led to the slaughter of millions.

The meme born from this study is harrowing when pondered: the ‘banality of evil.’ It is clear that evil is related to such consuming terms as passion and damnable hatred; but it opens up links to the humdrum, the ordinary and dull. It means that corruption of the soul – as occurred under Nazi rule – can happen at any time, any place and in any one, and that what has come in the past can easily come to pass again. As Arendt writes: ‘The reflection that you yourself might have done wrong under the same circumstances may kindle a spirit of forgiveness.’

Focus is given to those many – thousands – who opposed Hitler’s regime. They include two peasant boys who were drafted into the SS at the end of the way but who refused to sign; they were sentenced to death and on the day of their execution they wrote a final letter to their families: ‘We two would rather die than burden our conscience with such terrible things. We know what the SS must carry out.’ Such actions are those who heroes, and as such, should always be remembered. However, the life and career of Eichmann is all the more compelling for its lack of heroics and its dedication to doing a good job; such obedience can bring forth wickedness and evil. It is a theme returned to again and again in the post-war period, most notably in the Milgram experiment. There is a real fear that such “little Eichmanns” can be found around us, leading to the downfall of civilizations.

This engaging book contains selections from a five-part article of Arendt’s used in The New Yorker during the early months of 1963 and then converted in a larger book (titled Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil). Penguin put the book together as part of a larger series of ‘Great Ideas’, stating that: ‘Throughout history, some books have changed the world. They have transformed the way we see ourselves – and each other. They have inspired debate, dissent, war and revolution. They have enlightened, outraged, provoked and comforted. They have enriched lives – and destroyed them.’ Arendt’s analysis is sandwiched in-between the likes of heavyweights Confucius, Plato, Voltaire and Francis Bacon. It is to the author’s credit that her work stands toe-to-toe with these other captivating reads. Furthermore, the series has given the Worm a particular mission when scouting the second-hand bookshops of the land: a collection to find, behold and devour.

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Thursday, 4 July 2013

#218 The Dark Knight Strikes Again (2005)

Author: Frank Miller
Title: The Dark Knight Strikes Again
Genre: Graphic Novel
Year: 2005
Pages: 250
Origin: read online during May 2013
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5


Earlier this book reading season – number 184 in October 2012, to be exact – the Worm reviewed Frank Miller’s iconic and ground-breaking graphic series The Dark Knight Returns. Published in 1986, it was a genre-defining comic that transformed the Batman mythos; no longer was the character a camp hero of the ilk of the 1960s (Pow! Biff! Zap!), but rather a brooding, multi-layered figure that connected with reality. The Worm praised Miller’s earlier work, calling it ‘a triumph’; such praise is commonly found in graphic novel reading circles, with the comic series frequently featuring in Top Ten lists. Miller’s reputation was assured. But then, fifteen years later, came the return to ...Returns: The Dark Knight Strikes Again.

Released in three issues during 2001/2002, the sequel is set in a different world to that of its predecessor; all of which is fitting, considering that the author was writing in a different time to that of the 1980s. The Cold Was gone, and 9/11 was a recent event. The previous story was set in the throes of the Cold War and saw an older Bruce Wayne come out of crime-fighting retirement to do battle with the world gone wrong around him. Batman ends with the hope of building a new model army to do better in the world; however, by the sequel the world has become all the darker, with America becoming a dictatorship begging to be crushed. This time around he has help in the shape of many friends and assorted heroes with freakish powers. These include Catgirl (the former Robin sidekick from ...Returns), an army of ‘Batboys’, and a plethora of names that would wet the whistle of any DC fan: the Atom, Flash, Green Arrow, as well as the less bone-shattering, Plastic Man and Elongated Man. Along the way they do battle with the government and the puppet masters pulling the strings: Lex Luthor and Brainiac. Furthermore, the government also controls endorsed heroes – such as Superman – who have become corrupted by their association with evil. This is a continuing theme from The Dark Knight Returns, with much soul-searching enacted between the superheroes, with Wonder Woman talking to Superman about their quandary and state of affairs: ‘We’re beaten. Crushed. We’re a joke. We’re worse than a joke. We run about, stopping this disaster and that – quietly, secretly – and do nothing about the evil that rules the world!’

Much mayhem occurs, all of which is too random or pointless to outline in this short review. Rest assured, it involves aliens, explosions and bizarre situations; one sample quote: ‘Bruce, maybe you ought to get here. The whole forest is on fire and we’ve got dinosaurs.’ Of course, this being a comic, we know the “good guy” will win the day. But with this being a Frank Miller narrative, there is enough ambiguity for the reader to question various characters and motives. The storyline is one significant difference with ...Returns, what with it all feeling slightly incoherent and ready to collapse at any moment. Yes, the critic in you might point out that this is all the intent of Miller, to mimic a counterpoint to Wayne’s very own journey during the story in toppling the government. However, others might simply ridicule the author for becoming older and lazy. This has been a common accusation thrown at the comic ever since its release more than a decade ago.

But yet there is an inkling in the Worm’s mind that wishes to give Miller the benefit of the doubt. This fits in with the concept of the artwork throughout the series, all of which has an ill-judged feeling about it, as if they were sketches of nightmarish thoughts from Miller’s dreams. Some are seemingly half-finished, with an odd combination of colours used. It leaves the reader with an unsettled feeling that is hard to shift. Intention, or not? Yes, that is the question. One thing cannot be doubted: Miller’s critique on society. In ...Returns he satirises television and youth culture, and in Strikes Again he goes even further in his commentary, showing that his eye for what makes society tick remains as keen as ever. In many ways it is a comic fitting for the times – not just in its subject matter – but in its intention of holding the attention of the readers in short, frenzied bursts.

The poet Felix Dennis once wrote: ‘Never go back. Never go back. / Never return to the haunts of your youth. / Keep to the track, to the beaten track, / Memory holds all you need of the truth.’ And such advice is heeded by many. However, admiration must be adorned on a creator in deciding to not serve up what has come before but rather to go in a new direction. In this, Miller has succeeded; The Dark Knight Strikes Again is significantly different than what has come before to stand on its own two feet. No, it is not a triumph of the genre, but it does not deserve the bad press and muck that has been thrown its way. It is chaotic, but there is a beauty within that chaos. And more than enough within its pages to maintain the interest of the comic book and Batman fan.



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