Monday, 20 December 2010
Geoffrey Palmer in the News
Friday, 8 October 2010
Brian's Novel
Boycott everything that he owns.
Thursday, 7 October 2010
The Writer's Journey by Christopher Vogler
Bought a tiny Samsung laser printer. It just purrs obediently and efficiently like the black cat I don't have. Far superior to my clackety Epson inkjet '3 in 1'.
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
'Troubles' by JG Farrell - winner of the 'Lost Booker'
The book was awarded the 1970 Man Booker prize in May 2010 - to make good the oversight of not awarding the prize that year - something to do with a mix-up in qualification dates. Anyway, unlike most Booker awards, the decision of the judges - in this case, the reading public - was overwhelming. It is clear to see why. It is very funny, quirky, sad, wise, and yet analogous of the troubled Ireland of the Nineteen-Seventies, when the story was written. I devoured the last 250 pages in one sitting. Sadly the author, JG Farrell drowned in 1979 in a Cork fishing accident. He had a reputation for being something of a curmudgeon on colonialism and capitalism. But for all that, the text never preaches and is concerned above all with the intrinsic humanity of its characters. 'Troubles' is part of Farrell's 'Empire Trilogy", the rest of which I cannot wait to savour.
Monday, 2 August 2010
Resurgence of literary avant-garde.
The realist novel 'Netherland'referred to in the article is, in my opinion, interminably long-winded and frankly, it doesn't help that this reader is no fan of cricket. George Bernard Shaw said "The English are not very spiritual people, so they invented cricket to give them some idea of eternity". The author, O'Neill - another Irishman - supplers a further infinity metaphor in the pacing of 'Netherland'.
Monday, 19 July 2010
Saturday, 26 June 2010
Come on Ghana!
I upgraded the iPhone for the new software. Fine. Then I decided to use the new folder facility. Now the bloody thing makes the most horrendous squawk every time I use it. Life is too short to get involved in this stuff. Sometimes I envy people who have rejected mobile phones and online 'culture'; though it's becoming increasingly difficult to do so. We are enslaved by 'labour-saving' gadgets.
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Bloom's Day
writLOUD
Sunday, 23 May 2010
Toby Litt
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Saturday, 8 May 2010
It's the Met Police again - a true story
I live in a ground-floor studio flat in a council block.
I am awoken abruptly this morning at 8:45 by banging on my door.
“Who’s there?” I inquire grumpily.
From the corridor, “Police”
“Not again”, to myself. More knocking.
“Hang on” I throw a shirt and jeans on.
More persistent and much louder banging on door. I open up and am confronted by six male police officers
“Are you Mr R...?”
Before they get a chance to go any further, I intervene brimming with anger and righteous indignation,
“I’m fed up with this; this is the second time in a year I’ve been woken by the police looking for various suspects...”
"How long have you been here?"
“Five years...five years to the week and this is the second time I’ve been woken recently by police banging on the door and demanding me to open up immediately and wanting to know about somebody I’ve never heard of... I’m sick of it... you need to get your database sorted out”. I ‘m gesturing with my right hand to emphasise the point, palm facing chest, as I do when giving a powerpoint presentation.
The one closest to me with jet black hair, who seems to be leading the posse says - and who looks oddly familiar -
“You’ve raised your voice and made an intimidating gesture at me”
“What are you talking about?”
“You pointed your finger at me. That is an intimidating gesture.”
“ It's not me who's intimidating, I'm naturally angry. Who is the highest ranking officer here?” I ask.
A fair-haired one says “We’re all the same...”
“Well I want to report this.”
The dark-haired one then says,
“We’re looking for someone called R.... He was reported for assault by a woman who gave us this address”.
Well...why does this happen to me all the time? You need to find out why she gave you the wrong address. I’m a law-abiding citizen. I’ve never had a problem with the law. I’m a graduate - an english graduate, I say pathetically as if graduates, and more precisely english graduates don’t carry out assaults, like the way priests were never thought to do wrong.
Then Fair-haired says, “I’m a graduate too”.
My neighbour - a big guy with big feet, emerges from around the corner and suggests,
“it might have something to do with the previous tenant.”
I had been tipped-off that the previous tenant was apparently ‘known’ to the local constabulary. Fair-haired then asks my name and date of birth, presumably to look me up on their rotten database. I stupidly give it to him.
Another one says,
“Maybe it’s the address, are you on the electors register?”
“Five years on the register at this address”, I say.
Dark-haired then gives me his tag number, a “CAB” number and the name of his station. They leave, and I shut the door.
Till the next time...
Election UK - Clegg Unique Opportunity
Saturday, 3 April 2010
New Media - old demarcations redundant
Monday, 29 March 2010
New Play
Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller is a masterwork. The movie version with Dustin Hoffman as Willy Loman and John Malkovich as Biff is intense, maddening and sad. But then you don't need me to tell you that, d0 you?