#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

#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

#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

#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.

Buy it here

#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.

Buy it here

#217 Winter King (2011)

Author: William Penn
Title: Winter King – The Dawn of Tudor England
Genre: History
Year: 2011
Pages: 380
Origin: bought from Waterstones
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

Television is currently in the thralls of a Tudors love-fest. There are repeats of the gratuitous drama The Tudors, documentaries on the discovery of the body of Richard III, whilst the BBC is currently showing the series The Winter Queen charting the life of Elizabeth Woodville. Perhaps of more worthy interest than the rest of these programmes was William Penn’s documentary focusing on the reign of the very first Tudor, Henry VII.

Now, regular readers of this blog will have come across a fair few reviews on the Tudor period over the past year. Of notable interest was S.B. Chrimes forensic detail on the administrative functions of Henry VII’s reign, whilst Starkey put in his usual flamboyant shift in an attempt to breathe life into the early life of Henry VIII. William Penn’s own look at Henry VII is a combination of both of these writing personalities: substance of detail, as well as style of entertaining the reader.

Henry VII is a monarch usually in the shadows, jealously looking at the posterity accorded to his son (Henry VIII) and granddaughter (Elizabeth I) – both being known as the “bigger” Tudors. Henry is painted as the Winter King in connection to the end days of his kingship in which popular legend has colour leaving the court and country, ready to be reignited once again with the blossoming coming of the summer king, Henry VIII.

Penn takes the position that Henry’s reign was dominated and dictated by what had come before, namely the chaos and confusion of the Wars of the Roses. Mindful of his modest origins, Henry is paranoid and never stable on his throne, having to face threats from left, right and centre. Interestingly, many other histories - including a particular book that the Worm is currently reading - such threats are noted as having been stopped by 1499 with the death of the great pretender, Perkin Warbeck. However, Penn highlights other threats – notably the Earl of Suffolk – to continually bring home the message that Henry’s hold on the crown was never secure. This dynasty, which would go on to hold the imagination of historians for centuries upon centuries, hung by a thread at many points in Henry VII’s declining years. It rested on the shoulders of his youngest son (and we all know that he would go on to achieve some very interesting feats).

As well as the psychological aspect, Penn is keen to chart the financial functions of Henry’s court. In particular, the extracting exploits of Henry’s advisors Dudley and Empson. Their dodgy dealings highlighted the wrongs of Henry VII’s end years, and their bloody removal in the early stages of Henry VIII’s reign were a sure sign that the winter was over.

Penn manages to bring to life a period of history that has been overshadowed in the grander scheme of the Tudor dynasty. As earlier stated, Chrimes managed to dissect the reign with a scholarly eye; Penn – despite holding such lofty credentials – attempts an accessible history within his book. In doing this, he undoubtedly succeeds. From the shadows Henry VII is brought into focus. The question now is, can Penn take on another monarch – perhaps one of greater fame – to paint a book of greater standing. The Worm waits with, as always, baited breath.

Buy it here

#216 A Streetcar Named Desire (1947)

Author: Tennessee Williams
Title: A Streetcar Named Desire
Genre: Play
Year: 1947
Pages: 110
Origin: a tried and trusted library book
Nod Rating: 5 nods out of 5

'Hello! I am Llewelyn Sinclair! I have directed three plays in my career, and I have had three heart attacks! That's how much I care, I am planning for a fourth.'
Llewelyn Sinclair, The Simpsons, ‘A Streetcar Named Marge’ (1992)

The Worm’s first encounter with the play A Streetcar Named Desire was, like many things in his childhood, witnessed whilst watching an episode of The Simpsons. The 1992 episode of the all-embracing cartoon was titled 'A Streetcar Named Marge', with a connection being made between her relationship with Homer and Williams’ characters Blanche DuBois and Stanley Kowalski. Of course, for an earlier generation the first thing that might come to mind – and perhaps a tad more apt – is the bawling of Marlon Brando (‘Stell-lahhhhh!’) in black and white at the cinema. Such is the declining cultural experience of each successive decade. Perhaps those born in the twenty-first century will experience the play by way of a phone-in talent show or via an ill-advised internet pornography production

The fantastically named Tennessee Williams (Tennessee being, unfortunately, a nick-name) wrote the play A Streetcar Named Desire in the late 1940s. It proved to be a hit, making its way to the silver screen and finding a home in the popular consciousness for the past sixty years. It charts the character of Blanche DuBois who has journey to her sister’s (Stella) home in the hope of finding shelter from the mess that has become her world. Stella is happy to have her demanding sibling under the same roof as her again, however, her husband – Stanley – has the opposite feelings. Blanche and Stanley go head to head in a cold war of their wits, with Blanche ending up losing whatever remained of hers; leading to the near closing immortal line of hers: ‘I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.’

The Worm didn’t expect to become so engaged in Williams’ play. This can be explained in three reasons. Firstly, the dialogue is entertaining. Williams has a talent in bringing the page to life through use of slang and jokes (both surface jokes and dark humour). Secondly, this dialogue finds perfect voices in his development of the characters, including the central triumvirate that is Blanche, Stella and Stanley. The sisters’ relationship reveals their affection for one another (Blanche labelling her sister as a saviour of sorts, ‘Stella for Star’), as well as Blanche and Stanley’s rivalry for the loyalty of Stella. Thirdly, Williams paces the play in a way in which suspense is continually building throughout. It peaks at certain points, namely in Stella’s and Stanley’s argument/fight, as well as in the climax of Blanche and Stanley’s argument/fight (one will correctly deduce that Stanley is an argumentative kind of guy).

Blanche’s long list of pretensions (such as the naming of literary authors and poets) attempts – and fails – to cover up her own past: including the loss of a youthful fiancé, the loss of her reputation, and the loss of the ancestral home, Belle Reve. Despite fleeing to New Orleans and courting Mitch, she is unable to escape her eventual fate: this being the tragedy of the play. As Blanche explains to her sister:

‘I never was hard or self-sufficient enough. When people are soft – soft people got to court the favour of hard ones, Stella. Have got to be seductive – put on soft colours, the colours of butterfly wings, and glow – make a little – temporary magic just in order to pay for – one night’s shelter! That’s why I’ve been – not so awf’ly good lately. I’ve run for protection, Stella, from under one leaky roof to another leaky roof – because it was storm – all storm, and I was – caught in the centre… People don’t’ see you – men don’t – don’t even admit your existence unless they are making love to you. And you’ve got to have your existence admitted by someone, if you’re going to have someone’s protection. And so the soft people have got to – shimmer and glow – put a – paper lantern over the light… But I’m scared now – awf’ly scared. I don’t know how much longer I can turn the trick. It isn’t enough to be soft. You’ve got to be soft and attractive. And I – I’m fading now.’

Her battle with Stanley reaches fever pitch towards the play’s end in what is an ambiguous closing to a heated and possibly sinister scene (‘Tiger – tiger! Drop the bottle-top! Drop it! We’ve had this date with each other from the beginning!’). The ‘magic’ that Blanche has sought to provide to those around her is not needed, and with that comes her removal to a mental institution.

Of course, the words on paper do not factor in the breadth of Williams’ world that he has created in A Streetcar Named Desire. Obviously a reading of the play misses the music of the Varsouviana – used as a haunting reminder of Blanche’s memories. However, this does not detract from what is an outstanding read of 5 nodder quality. The Worm was absorbed and invested much emotion in these characters, being left to ponder the fate of Blanche DuBois and whether or not she could survive into her own age or in a modern world. In this alone Tennessee Williams should be commended. The Simpsons cannot do such a masterpiece justice, but the Worm is thankful that he found this play through its portal.

Buy it here

#215 In Cold Blood (1966)

Author: Truman Capote
Title: In Cold Blood
Genre: “Faction” Novel
Year: 1966
Pages: 330
Origin: bought in a second-hand book-shop
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

Faction was once all the rage. Have no clue at what the word means? It is a novel – chiefly that of literature – that contains facts connected to the real world; a non-fiction novel. Truman Capote’s name is forever connected to this genre of writing, and the Worm thought it best to read In Cold Blood to find out what all the fuss was about.

It is a story like any other crime novel. It contains victims and murderers, with the eventual justice of the law prevailing. The case was that of the death of the Clutters, a family of farmers in Kansas. One night in 1959 their home was invaded by two men – Dick Hicock and Perry Smith – who wrongly believed there was money to be found on the premises. They kill each of the family members (the two parents as well as daughter and son) before fleeing from the house. After weeks of moving around the country – and Mexico – they are eventually caught and sentenced to death. Just one in many other incidents that have occurred, but for Capote, his eye was caught by these people, and he would spend the next six years of his life writing his eventual book that would attempt to retell the story to the world..

The book’s subtitle - ‘A true account of a multiple murder and its consequences’ – therefore outlines its remit: to stick to the facts. Therefore a vast collection was gathered to help him, including testimonies, interviews, letters, court notes, notebooks (including ‘a non-alphabetically listed miscellany of words he believed “beautiful” or “useful” or least “worth memorising”), and assorted reports (such as Perry’s father’s written report to the Kansas State Parole Board, ‘A History of My Boy’s Life’).

All of this shows Capote to be a thorough researcher, enabling him portray those in the book as a rounded people that the reader can relate to. We gain a greater insight and possible understanding of their motivations and the sort of people they are. Capote doesn’t flirt with the idea of forgiving the pair for their actions, but the time he expends on the characters on death row with Smith and Hicock – including the details of the trail and the intriguing example of Lowell Lee – suggests that the author is critical about the death penalty. Such a hint can be found in a conversation:

‘Parr said, “Many a man can match sob stories with that little bastard. Me included. Maybe I drink too much, but I sure as hell never killed four people in cold blood.”

“Yeah, and how about hanging the bastard? That’s pretty goddam cold-blooded too.”’

The time spent on Perry and Dick’s travelling after the deaths of the Clutters paints a colourful human picture of the pair of them; all of which can be inferred by the paragraph noting the fortunes of Perry’s friend whilst on death row: a squirrel. ‘He sure misses Perry. Keeps coming to the cell looking for him. I’ve tried to feed him, but he won’t have anything to do with me. It was just Perry he liked.’

The book is strongest when it quotes the comments of others, such as the description by police officers of finding the murdered bodies of the Clutters in their home, as well as Susan’s recollection of her murdered friend, Nancy Clutter:

‘I went outside and waited in the car… Across the street a man was raking leaves. I kept looking at him. Because I didn’t’ want to close my eyes. I thought, if I do I’ll faint. So I watched him rake leaves and burn them. Watched, without really seeing him. Because all I could see was the dress. I knew it so well. I helped her pick the material. It was her own design, and she sewed it herself. I remember how excited she was the first time she wore it. At a party. All I could see was Nancy’s red velvet. And Nancy in it. Dancing.’

Therefore, the reader must remember that these words are not the invention or talent of Capote, but rather those of his interviewees. The contrast is striking if we include a short sample of Capote’s own standard descriptive prose, which at times is very dull:

‘Some souvenirs exist; a moderately colourful row of commercial buildings is known as the Buffalo Rock, and the once splendid Winsor Hotel, with its still splendid high-ceilinged saloon and its atmosphere of spittoons and potted palms, endures amid the variety stores and supermarkets as a Main Street landmark…’

A larger question mark grows throughout the book: how much is fiction and how much is fact? The success of the book in the mid-sixties brought about a stream of articles disputing Capote’s version of events in the books, therefore clouding the subtitle’s claim to be ‘a true account’. New research and interviews with some of the key people involved revealed discrepancies, with Phillip K. Tompkins concluding that Capote ‘has made himself vulnerable to those readers who are prepared to examine seriously such a sweeping claim’. All of which destroys any credibility the book can have as a work of Faction.

Clearly, the strengths of the book do not lie in Capote’s descriptive prose or in his ability (or is that inability?) to tell the truth. Furthermore, Capote breaks the writer’s “rule” about the author remaining invisible to the reader; his influence throughout In Cold Blood feels intrusive. One can never shake his presence lurking behind the unfolding the story, bending the facts to suit his needs. However, despite such failings, the Worm is adamant that this is an interesting and engaging book. Capote’s success is not in his own ability to string a sentence, but rather as an editor of material and comments. The testimonies of many characters are put together in a sensible order that, at times, resembles a thriller (the last two hundred pages of the book fly by in an enjoyable torrent of a read). It is better, then, to view Capote not as an author in the mould of other American writers before him but rather as the conductor of a crime scene of an opera.

Despite a few standout successes, faction is no longer the rage. Perhaps this is a good thing. It is not a case of “never the twain shall meet”, but rather the Worm’s belief that fact and fiction work better when working independently. Yes, fictional elements can help brighten up a narrative account of history – and has done fantastically in various books – but this should not detract from the history book’s first mission: to find/debate as much of the truth as possible. Here in Capote’s book the reader is left slightly confused as to what is fiction and what is fact, blurring the independence of each sphere and spewing forth its abrasive, brash offspring: Faction. Despite the condemnation of the veracity of his work, In Cold Blood remains an exciting read; if we are to ignore the worst and concentrate on the best, we must agree that it allow us to question our beliefs and values on the crime of murder.


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#214 The Overcoat (1842)

Author: Nikolai Gogol
Title: The Overcoat
Genre: Short Story
Year: 1842
Pages: 60
Origin: read on an iPhone
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5

Nikolai Gogol holds a literary reputation in Russia comparable to that of Dickens in this country; both are writing titans of the nineteenth century. But rather than stories of orphans in Victorian London, Gogol concentrates on that other obsession of Russian literature: the neurotic fears of bureaucracy. This is shown in his work, such as the play The Government Inspector and the ludicrous short story The Nose. The Overcoat continues in this similar vein.

The coat in question belongs to Akakiy Akakievich: ‘a certain official’ who goes about his business in ‘a certain department’, but as Gogol notes, ‘it will be better to describe the department in question only as a certain department’. Due to becoming ‘an object of ridicule’ by his colleagues, he decides to buy a new overcoat. He saves for months upon months – even starving himself of food and other essentials - to buy his new overcoat in order to save face amongst those in his office. The resulting overcoat causes a sensation in the office, being deemed worthy of Akakiy’s ‘most glorious day’ in his life:

‘All rushed into the ante-room to inspect it. They congratulated him and said pleasant things to him, so that he began at first to smile and then grow ashamed. When all surrounded him, and said that the new cloak must be “christened”, and that he must give a whole evening at least to this, Akakiy Akakievitch lost his head completely, and did not know where he stood, what to answer, or how to get out of it.’

However, disaster strikes when Akakiy is attacked the coat is stolen. Looking left, right and centre for help, Akaky asks a ‘prominent personage’, who only berates him for bringing such a trivial matter to his attention. The embarrassment proves the end for Akakiy, who returns home and succumbs to death; Gogol noting, ‘so powerful is a certain scolding!’But, that is not the end of the story or Akakiy, with his ghost haunting the streets of the Russian capital:

‘But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of Akakiy Akakievitch, that he was destined to raise a commotion after death, as if in compensation for his utterly insignificant life?’

This ghost searches for a suitable overcoat, ‘with regard to rank or calling’, forcing the police to issue orders to catch the corpse ‘alive or dead, at any cost, and punish him as an example to others in the most severe manner’. The prominent personage is accosted and reprieved of his own overcoat, with the ghost of Akakiy never being seen again.

All of which sounds like a rather odd short story, and one that could not possibly take hold of the reader’s attention. However, there is more at work here than just the barebones of the narrative outlined above. Gogol – and many other Russian writers of the 1800s (most of whom looked up to Gogol) – wrote fiction with thinly veiled attacks on Russian society and government (this method used due to the dreaded censor of the autocratic Tsarist government). Gogol comments on the ludicrous manners of society, of the foolishness of bureaucracy, and the crazy results that come about by following the rules of superiors (such as the arresting of ghosts). The overcoat serves as a linchpin of what is wrong in society, rather than being a story based on sartorial nervousness.

What makes Gogol’s story so readable is his own distinctive voice as the narrator. In the fashion of the nineteenth century writer, he interferes with the story as and when he chooses: ‘It is not necessary to say much about the tailor; but, as it is the custom to have the character of each personage in a novel clearly defined, there is no help for it’. Whilst he has fun describing the ‘prominent personage’:

‘What was the exact official position of the prominent personage remains unknown to this day. The reader must know that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominent personage, having up to that time only an insignificant person. Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent in comparison with others still more so. But there is always a circle of people to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others, is important enough.’

In doing this, Gogol is playing with the conventions of the story form. These are only mild examples of Gogol’s experimentation, with greater instances found in his masterwork Dead Souls.

Take what you will from this review of an intriguing writer. The nods do not fully compliment his skill. But for those interested greater short reads lie ahead, including the ridiculous The Nose. For those put off by such critical thoughts masquerading as foolishness, it is best stay away from Nikolai Gogol… but try not to stay away for too long.

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#213 Kick-Ass (2010)

Authors: Mark Millar & John Romita Jr
Title: Kick-Ass
Genre: Graphic Novel
Year: 2010
Pages: 190
Origin: read online during April 2013
Nod Rating: 3 nods out of 5

‘Okay you cunts, let’s see what you can do now’ – Hit Girl

Kick-Ass became known to millions in the form of the 2010 movie directed by Matthew Vaughn. It charts rising star Aaron Johnson as a self-made superhero-cum-internet sensation, Nicholas Cage as the trained killer Big Daddy, and Chloe Grace Moretz as his foul-mouthed assassin daughter, Hit Girl. Their quest, like all other superhero stories, is to take down the bad-guy. And, like all other superhero stories, it can trace its origin in print form.

Mark Millar is a well respected name in the Comics Industry, even taking on the role of overseer of all superhero movies for Twentieth Century Fox. Kick-Ass is his initial baby, before it took on life in theatres and with Nicholas Cage’s fake moustache. Released as a series of comics between 2008 and 2010, Millar’s story charts the journey of Dave Lizewski, a boy who decides to become a superhero and help out people. Interesting – for the modern day – is how he becomes an internet sensation on YouTube, using social media to advertise his services. Unwittingly, he teams up with the trained vigilantes Big Daddy and Hit Girl in a serious plot for revenge against a mobster; this team-up brings about recognition that he finds it ‘harder and harder to relate to people who didn’t wear masks’.

In many ways, the film trumps the comic book. Chiefly, with regards to the emotion on offer and the investment we plough into these characters. Whereas the concluding third of the movie reveals the death of Big Daddy and the climatic battle scene, the comic appears to throw a southpaw into the gut of expectations by revealing that Big Daddy is not an ex-cop, but rather an avid comic collector who invented the fantasy for his daughter so as to avoid banality of ordinary life. His lifestyle of guns and death is funded by selling unique out-of-print comics on eBay. As the character shouts out before his impending death:

‘I wasn’t a cop. I was a number-cruncher for a credit company and married to a wife who fucking hated him. Are you satisfied? I hated my friends and I hated my life so I ran away with my baby girl and built a new one. I’m a fanboy, Dave. Just like you. Mindy died having no idea, but I’m just another asshole.’

However, you could suggest that this is part of Millar’s greater plan: a love-letter to superhero comics. There is no doubt that Kick-Ass is a homage on the superhero theme, but with a grounding in the real, modern world. Comics are referenced throughout the series, such as in Dave telling Hit Girl that he will not kill anybody; the reply given from Hit Girl is: ‘Oh, kiss my ass. What is this? The Silver Age?’ Later conversations chart Dave commenting on his team-up with Big Daddy and Hit Girl: ‘Spidey wouldn’t mind teaming up with the Punisher, but there’s no way he’s gonna employ his fucking Vietnam-honed methods.’ Whilst he also notes: ‘Big Daddy and Hit-Girl could be our team’s Wolverine’. Such references will serve as a treat for comic book fans, however, unlike the Vaughn film it does not hold universal appeal.

Other notable differences include the love interest. Interestingly, rather than the inevitable movie match-up, the comic takes a fresh twist. Dave reveals his undying love, only to be rebuffed and then beaten up by a jealous boyfriend. Millar piles on the agony and humiliation, having a picture message sent to Dave showing the love interest performing oral sex on the boyfriend. This illustrates – in its own gratuitous way – that the comic has kept enough of its original identity to remain a unique read.

The comic book references, the use of social media, and the language utilised – ‘If I’m absolutely honest, I’ve wanted to see you in pain since the first we met. I’ve even jerked off about it. Does that sound weird?’ – makes this a read better suited to a younger audience. The violence hints at this; notably in Big Daddy’s death in which a bullet blows open his skull.

Kick-Ass 2 is in cinemas later this year, but before checking out the movies it would be a good suggestion to pick up the comics. As can be seen from the brief review above, it will be an entertaining experience.

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*In the Books Vs. Movies war earlier discussed, this goes as a win to Movies. The overall score now stands at 8-5.