Taken for a ride

This is my review of Summer in February [DVD] [2013].

The charismatic leader of a bohemian artists' colony in the lovely Cornish coastal valley of Lamorna, A.J. Munnings was correctly predicted by his admiring friends as destined to become the leading painter of his day. As is often the way in a film, the evidence for this is somewhat lacking to the audience.

When the beautiful Florence Carter-Wood escapes from her match-making father to join the group, it is clear from the outset that her enigmatic allure, which may mask darker traits, will draw both the rakish Munnings and his perhaps unlikely best friend, the gentlemanly local land agent Gilbert Evans. One knows it cannot end well, if only because it is 1913, and the Edwardian idyll must be shattered by the debacle of World War 1.

Since this is based on a true story, one has to accept the plot despite a few major incidents which I found implausible. It is well acted, although I thought that Dominic Cooper was insufficiently larger than life to capture Munnings convincingly. The key aspects of the relationship between two male friends caught in a love triangle with the same woman, and the suffocating conventions of Edwardian morality which even bohemian artists could not completely escape needed to be developed in greater depth.

Despite the stunning scenery and pathos of the situation after the initial rumbustious jollity, I was left feeling underwhelmed but have obtained the novel of the same name on which the film is based, since I suspect that this may be more satisfying in, for instance, revealing more about Munnings as a painter, such as his contempt for modern art which is only hinted at in the film. In an infamous speech recorded shortly before his death he claimed that the work of Cézanne, Matisse and Picasso had "corrupted art".

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

Summer in February [DVD] [2013]

Ring of uncomfortable truth

This is my review of A Dangerous Delusion: Why the West Is Wrong About Nuclear Iran by Peter Oborne,David Morrison.

It surprised me that this hard-hitting attack on US and UK policy towards Iran is the work not of a John Pilger-type polemicist, but of two journalists, one of whom has worked for the Daily Telegraph.

This short book makes uncomfortable reading as it hammers out arguments backed by apparently valid sources: the US overthrew a democratically elected President Mossadeq in the `50s, replacing him with the puppet Shah who was allowed to acquire nuclear reactors with a view to generating electricity. When he was in turn ousted for a regime "that wasn't to the west's taste", although Iran had signed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), offered to "abide by the rules" in producing enriched uranium for civilian purposes and even assisted the US after 9/11, the US has persisted in misrepresenting Iran as an aggressive power hell-bent on acquiring a nuclear bomb, using this as justification for harsh sanctions which have caused ordinary Iranians considerable hardship. Meanwhile, the US has practised double standards in permitting its allies Israel and India to obtain nuclear weapons after refusing to sign the NPT.

I appreciate the viewpoint of the reviewer who felt that this book does not address sufficiently the reasons why the US may justifiably fear the nuclear arming of a powerful Islamic state, but one could argue that, in trying to redress the balance of misinformation fed through the western media, and to reduce the ignorance of the general public, the authors must focus on the "dangerous delusion" of the title, since if "the west is wrong about nuclear Iran" the price is the counterproductive provocation of the very hostility and negative action that is feared.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4 Stars

A Dangerous Delusion: Why the West Is Wrong About Nuclear Iran

Insights into the rural soul

This is my review of Marie DES Brebis by Christian Signol.

This is the true story written by Signol in the first person to capture the oral memories of Marie, shared with him in her old age. Found abandoned as a baby and brought up by a kindly shepherd in the remote Causse region of Quercy, Marie's life as a shepherdess, mother and husband of a quarryman spans the two World Wars and the technical advances which first disrupted and then destroyed her peaceful existence.

In a vivid account of life in a French village from the early 1900s, we see Marie taking her bread to the communal oven to be baked, her linen by cart to the washhouse twice a year, and the vital social contact she gained from all this, as from the round of traditional festivals in a community where everyone is expected to take part and support each other.

At first, I found the narrative rather sentimental and banal, as when Marie marries, when she is old enough, the farmhand sent to assist her guardians, as Signol informs us in advance as soon as Florentin makes his first appearance as a young boy, just as we are told on the birth of Marie's daughter that she will have a mind of her own and leave home at the age of eighteen.

Then, as harsher blows strike her, I began to realise that Marie's simplicity, acceptance of fate and positive attitude to adversity are not just a somewhat mawkish saintliness, but the result of her closeness to nature, of the long periods spent alone, almost meditating, observing subtle changes in the landscape and weather and the insignificance of mankind in the universe. When, in late middle age, she visits Paris, Marie is appalled by the lack of community spirit, as people pass each other in the street without any greeting, devoting themselves to acquiring material possessions. Initially, she criticises the young rioters of May '68 for protesting when they have so much, but then she realises that their "inner souls" are seeking something other than the pursuit of money, possessions and wealth.

This is a good way of practising French as the language is crystal clear (apart from the patois), with a smattering of useful idioms. It's not "great literature" but provides an insight into the mind of a good-hearted woman experiencing the undervalued pleasures and vicissitudes of rural life as it gradually crumbles away under inevitable forces of change.

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

Marie DES Brebis

Come-tragedy

This is my review of Fifty Words by Michael Weller.

Very much in the vein of "Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf" and Yasmina Reza's "The God of Carnage", also featuring a son with a hamster, this intense dialogue of a play is a portrayal of a marriage on the rocks.

Their son's first "sleepover" gives architect Adam and his wife Jan a rare evening alone together. This starts off in a bantering tone leading perhaps to a night of love, but there is a lack of communication and hints of darker problems from the outset and at times the bitternesss turns to violence. I found the frequent sudden shifts of mood or topic somewhat artificial and they weakened any sense I might have had of being moved by the plight of this couple who seem both self-destructive and ill-matched. The quickfire wit also prevented me from feeling very sorry for either of them, but it is very entertaining.

I concluded that this is really a set of observations on the nature of a variety of marriages, say where women play the game and turn a blind eye to their husbands' shortcomings and infidelities, or where women have children to please and keep their husbands and then hate their partners for this. Although Adam may be technically more "in the wrong", his wife Jan certainly comes across as more neurotic and manipulative. This may be the unintentional effect of a male writer identifying more with the man in the marriage. There are too many insightful comments to retain on first viewing of a performance; probably each person will come away with some different perceptions triggered by the play.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4 Stars

Fifty Words

Promising much but delivering less

This is my review of When the Money Runs Out: The End of Western Affluence by Stephen D. King.

Frustrated by politicians' refusal to admit that western economies may be in permanent decline, and their wrangling over austerity versus stimulus as the key to restoring growth which may be a chimera, I leapt eagerly on King's topical book.

I like King's rejection of economists' recent preoccupation with obscure models, and his concern to take historical, political and social factors into account, although I think some of his analyses would make academics in these disciplines wince.

The most original aspects seem to be his comparisons between the current situation and previous events, such as the decline after a period of promising growth of both Argentina and Japan, the bubble of "subprime" investment in the original American railroads, or the crises of the 1990s from which "Tiger economies" like South Korea or Malaysia, recovered quickly owing to their lack of a sense of entitlement, or so the author claims.

His examination of the recent financial crisis is clear, but has already been well-covered elsewhere. Yet his approach to economic terms seems inconsistent: the "loss aversion" which occurs in periods of stagnation is defined at some length, but I am not aware that he explains at any point how bond yields work, or the difference between monetary and fiscal policies, all crucial to an understanding of the economy. A glossary of economic terms would have been useful.

There is a good deal of space-taking repetition and some of his observations seem unduly subjective and perhaps a little confused, such as frequent references to the guilty role of "baby boomers" who are "having their cake and eating it". Does he expect this group to opt for early euthanasia so they can hand their ill-gotten share of resources on to the next generation?

I was disappointed by his recommended policies, which are presented in a rather rushed and woolly fashion in the final chapter. Some, too complex to explain fully here, on say, rating creditors for the quality of their decisions, or setting up "fiscal clubs" or encouraging more mobility of labour seem too theoretical, taking little account of the realities of nationalism, democracy or the implications for local services. Other policies seem based on flimsy arguments: I am unconvinced that banks have been forced to pursue risky ventures promising higher profits by the need to subsidise such "social commitments" as ATMs, or telephone and internet banking services for small savers.

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

When the Money Runs Out: The End of Western Affluence

Uneasy sits the viewer

This is my review of The Fall [DVD].

Although you may believe yourself incapable of being surprised any longer by a police thriller, this is unusual in revealing the serial killer's identity from the first episode, and in contriving to make him disturbingly sympathetic so that, despite being appalled by his manipulative, brutal and creepy behaviour, shocked that an apparently normal, caring father, husband and committed bereavement counsellor can be so evil, and therefore reassured by the occasional clear evidence of madness, a part of you also wants him to escape justice.

I agree with the praise for the quality of acting, in particular the impeccable playing by Gillian Anderson of SI Stella Gibson, the ruthless, ice cool female detective with her wry put-downs of male colleagues. Belfast provides a distinctive setting – hints of the aftermath of "The Troubles" and some dramatic sub-plots, although I would have liked the thread involving the first victim's husband to have been developed in more detail.

Although it is no doubt the author's intention, the murder scenes are almost unbearably violent and voyeuristic. You feel uneasy watching them, and perhaps even more so those where the killer is shown as a loving, if deceitful, father, hiding mementos of his crimes in the loft space above the bed of his observant and understandably disturbed small daughter. The lack of any explanation of the killer's deviancy until the final episode also seems to me to reduce the depth of the drama.

The one aspect I really dislike is the tendency to intercut scenes of say, the killer abusing a victim whilst SI Stella Gibson indulges in a one night stand. This ploy came across to me as by turns too contrived, tasteless or over-sentimental, as when we are shown clips of the killer's wife comforting young single mothers over their dying premature babies, whilst a pregnant woman is being murdered elsewhere by her husband.

This is powerful and well-made popular television, although I am not sure how good it is for the psyche of the watcher.

The final twists are ingenious and unpredictable, binding together several plot lines. The ambiguous ending which I cannot give away for fear of spoilers may leave many dissatisfied but succeeded for me in leaving it open to the audience to imagine "what happens next" and paves the way for the second series commissioned even before the showing of the first was completed.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5 Stars

The Fall [DVD]

Half-cooked

This is my review of The Golden Door: Letters to America by Adrian Gill.

Just as Alistair Cooke's deceptively laid back, meandering "Letters from America" used to draw me in by some subtle magic even when I was a teenager, so A.A.Gill's mirror images of these hooked me from the outset, before disillusion set in. Since I have always thought of Gill as unable to resist an acerbic barb at someone else's expense, I was surprised by the lyrical style of the opening pages in which he begins by describing his fading family ties with the States to which some of his ancestors emigrated, including "the Yorkshire cowboys".

Like Cooke, he often commences a topic in an oddly intriguing place, as for "Guns" where he describes how Civil War guns used by the slave-owning South were sold to the French, captured by the Prussians, sent for use by African troops in German colonies, fell into British hands and ended up displayed in the Imperial War museum. The chapter on "Speeches" begins: `The last word Abraham Lincoln ever heard was "sockdologising", this being from a line in the play he was watching when assassinated.

Although most of the topics interested me – skyscrapers, philanthropy, evolution i.e. creationism, to name a few, I was frustrated by Gill's frequent wandering into successive marginally relevant fact-laden digressions. So, I could only cope with this book in small doses, returning to pan for a bit more gold in the perhaps self-indulgent muddle of his thoughts.

Whereas Cooke apparently always saw himself as a journalist, Gill comes across to me as an essayist, which means that perhaps he is generally more concerned with form than substance. So, he can end the chapter on guns with a clever fantasy in which guns acquire a power and personality of their own : "The guns want us aware, they want us fearful, they want us to want them" – which is of course entertaining but nonsense. Yet the development of Americans' attachment to their guns is not explored very fully.

Cooke's aim was "to explain in the most vivid terms the passions, the manners and the flavour of another nation's way of life". By contrast, Gill's ideas often seem half-formed, even when stated emphatically, since an unusual take on topics tends to seep away into subjective rambling. A final question is whether Gill's letters' would come across better if read aloud, like Cooke's.

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

The Golden Door: Letters to America

The wrongdoing of others

This is my review of The Aftermath by Rhidian Brook.

Promoted to Colonel's rank for an act of courage, Lewis Morgan is posted to the British Zone in Hamburg, devastated by the force of Allied bombing, to supervise the "denazification" and restoration of civilian life in the aftermath of World War 2. It seems clear that his dislike of bureaucracy and evident sympathy for ordinary Germans will land him in hot water. Sadly, his empathy does not extend to his wife Rachael: prolonged separation and a family tragedy have driven a wedge between the two. Tensions are compounded by Lewis's unconventional, perhaps naïve decision (inspired by a similar real event in the author's family history) to share the impressive dwelling in which his family has been billeted with its defeated German owners, the cultured, spontaneous architect Lubert and his stroppy teenage daughter Frieda.

From the outset, I felt in the hands of a writer confident in his skilful plot and complex, well-drawn characters. He makes it all look deceptively easy, and slips in evidence of detailed period research quite subtly. Although you can guess some of the main plot developments, the denouement is always in doubt so that the tension builds strongly to an unpredictable ending.

Some reviewers have found the character development weak, and I admit to never quite believing in the unpleasant Major Burnham whose eyes both men and women seemed to find "pretty", whilst the half-crazed dissident Berti did not quite work for me either. Some of the minor characters, like the officers' wives, seem like caricatures, although may sadly be an accurate portrayal of the prejudice and snobbery rife at the time in their society. Despite this, the main players come across quite strongly. I particularly liked the character of Lewis's son Edmund, an appealing mixture of innocence and guile, as he earnestly attempts to read the codes of the adult world, frequently "getting it wrong". Rachael's shifting emotions in the course of the tale also appear both convincing and moving.

Others have spotted the odd anachronism, or grating, even misued word, and I was a little disappointed to learn that the book was written with a film in mind, so that some descriptions are guidelines for props departments rather than how a character might have perceived a situation. Yet all these are minor quibbles over a page turner which brings alive a neglected aspect of World War 2.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5 Stars

The Aftermath

Damb Squib

This is my review of After the Fire, A Still Small Voice by Evie Wyld.

There is endless potential in the theme of how men may be damaged when drafted to fight in distant lands for causes which do not arouse their allegiance, like the Korean or Vietnam Wars. Unable to express their emotions, they may drift into abusive relationships and neglect their children, damaging them in turn without meaning to do so.

If this sounds bleak, it could be made gripping and moving by the quality of the prose. Many reviewers have found this to be the case here, but after struggling with this book I had to admit defeat. I liked the evocation of an unfamiliar Australian landscape and culture. It did not bother me that the key points of the story are revealed only gradually and in some cases remain unclear. I did not mind its initial slow pace, but, in terms of structure it is too meandering. Also finding the opening pages so preoccupied with mundane aspects of daily life and the inner thoughts of Leon who seemed to me to be mentally ill, I felt the need for a touch of underlying humour, even of the wry or black variety.

Although the images used are at times striking and original, I agree with reviewers who have found the writing often banal – it really irks me when an author keeps using "like" instead of "as if".

Again like some other reviewers, I found the introduction of large numbers of minor characters together with frequent switches of time and place not so much confusing as irritating. Certainly, this contributed to my not feeling as much for the main players, Leon and Frank, as I think was intended.

I was left feeling frustrated: "here's the skeleton of a good novel, but this isn't it". Having read a number of classics recently, perhaps I have set the bar too high. In view of the quite polarised reaction to this book, I wonder whether it tends to appeal more say, to young men, than to older women like me.

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

After the Fire, A Still Small Voice

Shaped by other forces

This is my review of The Siege Of Krishnapur by J. G. Farrell.

At first, this 1973 Booker winner seems too much of a conventionally structured "good yarn", a kind of Somerset Maugham with humour, to gain the prize today, but as the plot darkens and becomes more bizarre, I revised this initial view.

Inspired by the 1857 Indian Mutiny, the novel covers the siege of the "Residency" of "the Collector", a senior representative of the East India Company at the fictional although authentic-sounding Krishnapur. The Collector is the only person to foresee the rebellion, but his insistence on constructing security walls is dismissed as evidence of eccentricity, even madness. Meanwhile, we are introduced to a range of distinctive characters, members of the British expatriate community, in the main complacent, ignorant and contemptuous of Indian religion and culture, casually exploiting the locals as a source of cheap labour to support a luxurious lifestyle. There are moments of droll comedy, as when Lieutenant Cutter gallops on horseback onto a friend's verandah, spearing feather cushions to alarm and delight the ladies. Similarly, the culture clash is shown with amusing irony when the self-absorbed Fleury, obsessed with poetry, fails to grasp the bitter sarcasm of the local Maharajah's son, who finds himself frustrated in the attempt to discuss technical inventions with a westerner. Throughout this scene-setting, the reader anticipates that the peace is about to be brutally shattered.

With the siege in progress, I felt the book started to lose its way. A major flaw is that it seems utterly implausible that such an inexperienced and inadequate bunch of defenders could possibly hold out against a band of determined sepoys for more than a day. Also, the callous, facetious tone used to describe brutality begins to grate after a while, and certainly inures one to shocking and poignant events. I was unconvinced by the contrived nature of some of the philosophical debates which Fleury, or the doctors, or the padre are prone to launch into despite the pressing ongoing need to fight off the enemy.

The story begins to rally, ironically, as we see the characters reduced to starving skeletons, stripped of many of their former prejudices and worldly preoccupations. This is one of those books peppered with arresting insights as applicable to us today as to the Victorians, and with striking descriptions, such as the Collector's admiration for vultures for which he had grown fond: "by their diligent eating of carcases they had probably spared the garrison an epidemic" whilst, in flight "they ascended into limitless blue until they became lost to sight…. They more resembled fish than birds, sliding in gentle circles in a clear pool of infinite depth".

Tension is aroused in the final pages, since the eventual outcome is unclear. One senses Farrell is all too capable of wiping out at the end every character who has survived against the odds. He was a daring risktaker of a writer. Some passages are brilliantly original and quirky, others miss the mark with an element of Boys' Own fantasy. And underlying all the thud and blunder, there are perceptive comments on the meaning of life.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4 Stars

The Siege Of Krishnapur