Obscene Desserts

Another very naughty boy ...

2012-01-27T13:55:00.003+01:00

... and a not very smart one to boot.

I used to think that Alain de Botton is merely a pompous git. After reading about his plans to build an Atheist temple in London, I briefly pondered the possibility that he might not be all there.

Now I'm back to the pompousness, because really: The whole thing is just one big campaign for his own deification, isn't it?

Well dig this Alain, self-proclaimed King of the Atheists: First of all, I didn't vote for you. And secondly, us humble humanists don't need a holy house (especially one eerily evocative of those set up by Scientology) "to develop a better perspective on life." Contemplating the noble earthworm will do very nicely, thank you very much. Awesome stuff.

Science fiction triple feature

2012-01-23T21:22:00.000+01:00

I've been in a science fiction state of mind recently, which is perhaps why I was particularly struck by a few things I ran across in the last day or so.

First, there was a lot in author Charles Stross's discussion of 'world building' (part of a series) that reminded me of my own efforts at 'past reconstructing': i.e. how closely related efforts to understand the past and predict the future can be. (Even if the problem of 'unknown unknowns' plays a rather different role in each case.) (Thanks to Chris W. for pointing me to Stross's excellent blog!)

Second, another 'future building' track brought me to SF author Bruce Sterling, some of whose novels I've liked for many years now (such as Islands in the Net or Holy Fire).

Sterling downplays both his blog and, by implication, his 'State of the World' discussions at The Well, as being 'rambling, open-ended, eclectic blather'.

Without being utterly inaccurate, however, this description does insufficient justice to Sterling's ability to write things that are well-phrased, insightful and funny all at the same time.

For instance, I like his summary (at the Well discussion) of what he sees as the key society-shaping factors of the coming century, i.e., demographics and climate change. The mid-century world, he quips, is going to be dominated by 'old people in big cities who are afraid of the sky.'

Or put another way: 'Futurity means metropolitan people with small families in a weather crisis.' Also quite good, but not nearly as memorable.

Of course, there are other visions of futurity to be dealt with, such as those of right-wing talk radio hosts, the People's Republic of China and Cyberculture ('Smartphones! They make the Silicon Valley of the 1980s look likethe railroads of the 1880s!').

In Sterling's summary of what he sees as the sorry state of 'fringe beliefs about the future', I am embarrassed to discover an apparently well-known fringe group of which I had never heard: the 'chemtrail' conspiracy theorists. (Sterling: ' These guys are pitiable loons, but they're interesting harbingers of a future when even scientific illiterates are deathly afraid of the sky.')

I have to admit more sympathy for two other fringe beliefs that Sterling observes seem to have disappeared a bit:

Space Travel people. Visible mostly by their absence nowadays. About the only ones left are nutcase one-percenters of a certain generation, with money to burn on their private space yachts. This was such a huge narrative of the consensus future, for such a long time, that it's really interesting to see it die in public. There's no popular understanding of why space cities don't work, though if you told them they'd have to spend the rest of their lives in the fuselage of a 747 at 30,000 feet, they'd be like "Gosh that's terrible."

Transcendant spiritual drug enthusiasts. People consume unbelievable amounts of narcotics nowadays, but there used to be gentle, unworldly characters who genuinely thought this practice was good for you, and would give you marijuana and psychedelics because they were convinced they were doing you a big, life-changing favor.

You go into one of those medical marijuana dispensaries nowadays, they're like huckster chiropractors, basically. The whole ethical-free-spirit surround of the psychedelic dreamtime is gone. It's like the tie-dyed guys toking up in the ashram have been replaced by the carcasses of 12,000 slaughtered Mexicans.

Finally, Sterling -- who spends a lot of time in Italy and Serbia -- offers two interesting perspectives of these countries' views of future change based upon his experiences in each.

With regard to the Italians' views of 'Europe':

The Italian version of "Europe" is different from other people's versions of "Europe," mostly because "Europe" is so much better-governed than Italy. If Italy hadn't founded the European Union, Italy wouldn't be allowed into it now, because Italy's too decadent and ramshackle to live up to the standards. So, every once in a while some kind of cold European economic/political breeze will ooze over the Alps; and Italians rarely complain; on the contrary, they're grateful for it and hope for better. Like, maybe "Europe" will somehow dispell the "Crisis" without Italians having to do much of anything, and wow, that would be great.

With regard to the Serbians' views of Russia:

Serbia's fantasy version of Russia is like nobody else's conception of Russia; most everybody else thinks of Russia as some half-blind, yellow-fanged ursine creature bristling with rusty nuclear weapons, while for Serbia, Russia is a fluffy angelic-winged flying bear to be depicted in stained-glass windows in a cloud of Orthodox incense. Tremendous emotional energy is invested in imagining that Russia will somehow show up and set everything to rights someday,even though Russia has never really done that anywhere for anybody.

Third, and finally, at 21C magazine there is quite a good discussion of J. G. Ballard among Sterling, V. Vale and (our friend) Simon Sellars. (Who also has an essay in the Ballard collection I noted here recently.)

This is by no means new, but I failed to mention it at the time and ran across it quite by chance again yesterday.

Sterling again:

You’re not suicidal if you understand J.G. Ballard. On the contrary,this guy’s a consummate survivor. Burroughs and his friends and the beatnik movement had a tremendous casualty list, whereas Ballard and his friends in the British New Wave movement and the Pop Art scene were actually fairly solid, well-balanced if unconventional individuals – people with jobs and children, they were not reedy figures. This is a towering oak tree of a writer, who wrote many volumes of consistently good, accomplished work.

This reminded me a little bit of some similar comments on this blog that we offered a few years ago now on the occasion of Ballard's death.

OK, enough 'open-ended eclectic blather for one evening, methinks.

What do they know of England...

2012-01-20T18:50:00.000+01:00

Hard to believe, but apparently true: a British army veteran has been thrown out of a pub for the unspeakable crime of...wait for it...speaking German.

Tom Sharp, 71, said he was talking to his half-German daughter in the Packhorse pub in the Peterborough village of Northborough when their conversation slipped into German.Mr Sharp, who also served with the Royal Signals for 26 years during which he met his wife Anni in Germany, said the pub's landlady flew into a rage when she heard the language being used on Wednesday evening.He claims she told him: "We are white, you are English so you speak English in my pub otherwise get out."Other drinkers who witnessed the row and spoke up for Mr Sharp and his 49-year-old daughter Nichole Falconer were also ejected, he said.

Appalling.

All our best wishes go out to Mr. Sharp, his daughter and those fellow drinkers who showed enough Zivilcourage (and what I would hope to be genuine British cosmopolitanism) to stand up for him.

I imagine there are other, more hospitable places in Northborough to quench one's thirst (though I've not been there).

(I am reminded of Rick Blaine's comment when asked his nationality: 'I am a drunkard.')

Exploring the high frontier

2012-01-20T17:39:00.000+01:00

One of the things I'm slowly working my way though is a gift that made it from my wishlist into my home last Christmas: the 'Cosmos' television series hosted (and co-written) by Carl Sagan.

I've mentioned Sagan here before, in 2006, in the context of the tenth anniversary of his death.

I remember watching the series when it was first broadcast -- in 1980 -- though I'm struck by the fact that I remembered it less for the content and more for the atmosphere (the gentle ambient music, Sagan's soothing and distinctive voice and the walk-through model of the solar system) and the look of the thing (the now primitive-looking 'spaceship' set or Sagan's trademark red turtleneck and beige corduroy blazer).

He seemed a ubiquitous figure in my youth, in many ways the most visible public face of popular science (or is there someone else I'm forgetting?). He was also, though, always just that slight bit odd and dreamy, hardly the voice of cold reason and more a scientific romantic ('We are all starstuff', etc.).

Anyway, quite by chance today I ran across a list at Io9 on '10 Scientific and Technological Visionaries Who Experimented With Drugs' and who should I find there but...Carl Sagan!

It may be that this is a generally known fact, but I have to admit that it was new to me.

It turns out he was not only an experimenter with but, indeed, a regular smoker (and advocate) of cannabis. He even wrote an essay in 1969 (under a pseudonym) on his own experiences, which, indeed, sound more productive than those of your average stoner:

I find that most of the insights I achieve when high are into social issues, an area of creative scholarship very different from the one I am generally known for. I can remember one occasion, taking a shower with my wife while high, in which I had an idea on the origins and invalidities of racism in terms of gaussian distribution curves. It was a point obvious in a way, but rarely talked about. I drew the curves in soap on the shower wall, and went to write the idea down. One idea led to another, and at the end of about an hour of extremely hard work I found I had written eleven short essays on a wide range of social, political, philosophical, and human biological topics. Because of problems of space, I can’t go into the details of these essays, but from all external signs, such as public reactions and expert commentary, they seem to contain valid insights. I have used them in university commencement addresses, public lectures, and in my books.

This is something I'll have to keep in mind when dealing with my next bout of writer's block.

He concludes:

I hope that time [the legalisation of cannabis] isn’t too distant; the illegality of cannabis is outrageous, an impediment to full utilization of a drug which helps produce the serenity and insight, sensitivity and fellowship so desperately needed in this increasingly mad and dangerous world.

I knew that there was a reason why there was something so inexplicably groovy about 'Cosmos'.

Incidentally, Sagan's wife, Ann Druyan (one of the co-writers of 'Cosmos'), I also discovered, is on the board of directors at NORML, an organisation whose goals I have long supported.

Although on quite another track, I'm currently about half way through Robert Shea's and Robert Anton Wilson's Illuminatus! trilogy, in which the convergence between drugs, science, cosmic weirdness and creativity is also a prominent theme (though with the addition of a great deal more sex, violence and conspiracy theorising than I have seen so far in 'Cosmos').

Which brings back recollections of many happy hours spent playing Illuminati in the context of my high school wargaming club. (Experiences I remembered here in commenting on the death of E. Gary Gygax.)

Taken together, all of the above adds up to an interesting...trip...down memory lane.

Outrage by the numbers

2012-01-19T18:38:00.001+01:00

You may have noted a bit of outrage regarding the revelation that London's Metropolitan Police spent £35,000 on calls to the 'speaking clock' (a telephone service to provide callers with the precise time) in the last two years.

(Well, you may have noticed it if you read the Daily Mail, and I know that not all of you indulge in that particular pleasure.)

Not that I always necessarily feel like standing up for the boys in blue, but I thought I would point out James Ball's interesting article at the Guardian today, where he takes a closer look at this expense, finding:

So what does the spend on the speaking clock represent? The force spent £16,879 on calls to the service in 2010/11. At 31p per call, that's just under 54,500 calls over the year.

That works out as 1.5 calls to the speaking clock for each officer, or in other words represents each officer in the force using the service just once or twice each year.

Is that unreasonable? Accurate time is occasionally important to police, when noting chronologies in reports or ahead of operations.

It's not hard to imagine police officers needing to sync their watches (or phones) on particular operations on occasion, or perhaps occasionally mistrusting their computer's clock when trying to timestamp a report.

The rest is worth reading as well.

I would admit to finding it a bit odd that a such a clunky seeming technology as the speaking clock would still be in semi-regular usage, and for this reason I probably would have smirked as well on first seeing this kind of headline.

Still, as Ball points out, the Met has a budget of four billion pounds a year, and with an enormous staff, small costs per officer add up quickly.

(Part of) The story behind the story

2012-01-18T19:23:00.000+01:00

On my other blog (related to my forthcoming book The Most Remarkable Woman in England: Poison, Celebrity and the Trials of Beatrice Pace) I give a little bit of the inside story to how the book was written.

And I also show a couple of never-before published family photos.

Come on, take a look: Wikipedia's closed, you have some time on your hands.

On marked foreignness and the inability to go home again

2012-01-12T10:41:00.000+01:00

I experienced more than a bit of self-recognition in this passage from a Prospect article ('Outsiders Everywhere' by E. J. Graff) quoting a German historian who has relocated to the US (quoted in a post by our friend Andrew).

My own Atlantic crossing, of course, went in the opposite direction, but I can nonetheless identify with one of her responses to the article's author about why she has decided to stay in her adopted home:

The first [answer] was that, having been an expat for more than a decade, she would never again be fully at home in Germany; she was Americanized now, to some degree, and would be out of place there. I've heard that before from Americans who've lived abroad for some extended period. ... So I wasn't surprised by the historian's answer. But why would that keep her here? Because, she explained, here her accent marks her as foreign; it reveals her reason for being a little different, a little unfamiliar with ordinary cultural habits. But in Germany, where she is unmarked as a foreigner, her different-ness irritates people.

I am still often frustrated about my all-too-visible marks of foreignness here in Germany (my accent, my use of expressions that are not quite right, my ability to form an orderly queue, my unwillingness to publicly scold complete strangers, etc.).

I think I feel encouraged now to be a bit more relaxed about my status as a marked man.

(The article also contains an interesting discussion of social mobility -- and its limits -- in the US and elsewhere.)

A brief note on literary violence and shady politics

2012-01-10T21:52:00.001+01:00

We're just recently back from a week in snowy, snowy Davos (long story, largely very enjoyable*) and have been making the jarring transition from the holidays back to the workaday world.

But, two things made me very happy today.

First, my contributor copy of J. G. Ballard: Visions and Revisions was there waiting for me when I arrived at my office. It looks fabulous and is full of interesting essays on a wonderful and much-missed author. My own contribution (the only effort, as far as I know, that anyone has ever made to analyse Ballard's work from the perspective of Norbert Elias's 'civilising process') can be perused in draft form here. Some comments on the conference that spawned it are here and here.

Second, I learned a new and useful German word, halbseiden, which means 'dubious' or 'shady' (and, apparently, in older usage, 'homosexual'). I ran across it in the context of a story about the German president, Christian Wulff, who has gotten into a spot of bother about some (allegedly) questionable loans from friends and a couple of (allegedly) threatening phone calls to the press which has been eagerly reporting on them. (Any possible homosexuality has, so far as I know, remained unrevealed.)

Quite a profitable day, if I do say so myself.

-----

* We can, for example, very much recommend the sauna at this place. And if you feel up to it, a jog around the Davosersee can be very invigorating. And the Ernst Ludwig Kirchner Museum has a small but very worthwhile collection. Skiing, you might have noted, is not really our thing....

Elsewhere in our familial blogosphere

2011-12-28T16:36:00.004+01:00

My forthcoming book, The Most Remarkable Woman in England: Poison, Celebrity and the Trials of Beatrice Pace, makes some early public appearances. (It will be available in August.)

And, inspired by comments at another blog on poisoning and the inter-war period, I address a few matters of relevance.

Thank you for your attention.

Glengarry Get Lost

2011-12-28T14:16:00.001+01:00

Reading a New York Times article on Christopher Hitchens's book criticism led me to something I'd missed over the summer: Hitch's review of David Mamet's The Secret Knowledge.

I haven't read Mamet's description of (or explanation for) his abandonment of left-liberalism for new-fangled right-wingery, and I don't think I will be.

It struck me that his book sounds very much like an expanded version of his 2008 Village Voice essay, "Why I Am No Longer a 'Brain-Dead Liberal'".

And that, though much shorter, was more than enough of a chore to read.

As I noted at the time (rather testily, I will admit).

It seems that, these days, Mamet's someone best ignored.

Rock and Pop!

2011-12-27T19:37:00.003+01:00

Well hello there ... and a very merry Christmas everyone!

Once again, we had our traditional festive movie-binge, which culminated in two and a half hours worth of George Harrison in the shape of Living in the Material World by Martin Scorsese.

Highly recommended!

Anyway, here's a snippet to share:

Goodbye Hitch

2011-12-19T10:45:00.000+01:00

I was preoccupied with other things when I heard of Christopher Hitchens's death last Friday, and, while it was far from unexpected, thinking about that event provokes a kind of blue funk that will keep me from writing all but the most cursory of notes.

But I feel that I should say something.

First, if there was one writer and essayist who has by turns intrigued, influenced, inspired and infuriated me since my days as a rather earnestly 'political' teenager in the mid-1980s, it was he. I didn't always agree with his conclusions; however, I found that even -- perhaps especially -- at those times, it was worthwhile engaging with his arguments: if I remained unconvinced, I at least had to think much harder about why that was so.

I'd like to think that what I lost in terms of comfortable self-righteousness I gained with regard to rigorous self-criticism.

Second, I had the pleasure of not only making his acquaintance but also, in what now seems like an episode from another world, of enjoying his (and his wife's) hospitality at their home in Washington, DC. Despite his rather formidable public persona, Christopher, I learned first-hand, was in no way short of warmth, humour and generosity. He recalled that dinner when I wrote him not long ago to express my dismay at his illness.

That will all remain a very fond memory.

But I'm going to miss reading his views and hearing his voice.

Ian McEwan's farewell is well worth reading, as are the others gathered or mentioned by Norm and Terry.

Vertical violence

2011-12-11T22:10:00.001+01:00

Via my friend Chris, I was made aware of a post at Blood & Treasure referring to a new building design that has been unveiled for a planned skyscraper in Seoul, South Korea.

It's referred to as 'The Cloud':

I will leave aside any aesthetic comments (other than WTF!!!! An image of a twin-towered complex exploding...who thought this was a good concept?) and simply use this image as an excuse to note the recent publication of a collection of essays, J. G. Ballard: Visions and Revisions.

This collection derives from a conference in which I participated some years ago and includes an essay by your humble narrator ('"Going mad is their only way of staying sane": Norbert Elias and the Civilised Violence of J. G. Ballard') on the novels High-Rise and Super-Cannes.

Whilst wandering around Bloomsbury a few days ago I had the pleasure of discovering this book in one of my favourite London bookshops and finding my essay nestled there among the others.

In academia you have to take your joys where you find them.

I recommend this book for those of you interested in Ballard's writing.

I'm very happy to be among the essays contained within it.

Tory MP 'regrets' Nazi stag party...

2011-12-11T21:32:00.001+01:00

...because, let's face it, it became public.

And while we're at it, can we please make it verboten to apologise -- as was done in this case -- 'for the offence caused': this is a particularly annoying weasely apology in which one implies that those who took offence share at least a significant amount of joint responsibility with those who caused the offence.

I mean: Conservatives in particular love to go on about personal responsibility, something that Mr. Burley (who, while enjoying a good old Nazi dress-up party, no doubt finds himself amongst those Tory backbenchers who bray on and on about the dangers of German 'dominance' in the Europe that they are so ardently pushing Britain to leave) seems to not be able even to identify, let alone accept.

The Folly of Fools ....

2011-12-09T17:15:00.005+01:00

According to the Guardian, "William Hague has insisted that the UK will still 'lead the way' on key issues in Europe even though it will not be among the 23 countries drawing up a separate treaty".

On which "key issues", I'm wondering. Which "issues" are there still left for the UK to discuss with the rest of Europe? And where will it lead us when it takes the lead? To Glastonbury or into the jungle with Katie Price?

No pal, let's face it - you're out. Game over.

At least the hilarious Hague corroborates Robert Trivers' argument in his new, long-overdue book The Folly of Fools: The Logic of Deceit and Self-Deception in Human Life:

At every single stage ... from its biased arrival, to its biased encoding, to organizing it around false logic, to misremembering and then misrepresenting it to others, the mind continually acts to distort information flow in favor of the usual good goal of appearing better than one really is.

I do hope Santa has already sent out his bulk order for the book, to use as a particularly timely stocking-filler for our distant friends in Whitehall. They might need reminding that their post-imperial self-importance is a mere self-delusion.

A holiday gift idea for the Cassandras on your Christmas list

2011-12-08T12:42:00.001+01:00

Noted in the ‘Gramophone Notes’ section of a British political magazine:

With Europe in its present state one should not be surprised by the plethora of Cassandras that have arisen; yet that the Columbia company should be found among them is rather astonishing. No doubt the Handel centenary (still dragging out its weary length) is mainly responsible for our being reminded that “The Lord is a Man of War” (Israel in Egypt); but was it a mere coincidence that the same company has also given us a new recording of Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique?

For this work, written just over a hundred years ago under the influence of Alfred de Musset’s extraordinary translation of De Quincey’s “Opium-Eater,” is in fact a perfect picture of the European scene to-day, down to the Hell’s kitchen with which it ends—shrieks of the Sabbath and heavy undertone of the Dies Irae menacing us with an untimely end.

‘Gramophone notes’, The New Statesman and Nation, 20 April 1935, p. 564.

I tend to find my 'shrieks of the Sabbath' and menaces of 'an untimely end' in various forms of extreme metal music, but this Berlioz guy sounds pretty heavy.

Perhaps he's worth a listen in these troubling times.

We'll definitely have to get our hands on a gramophone.

"Every new band feels like I've heard them before ..."

2011-12-07T09:12:00.006+01:00

Goodness me, is it a dreary old day! Looks like it'll never become light and the gloom matches my irrepressible sense of ennui.

Here's the soundtrack to the mood:

Music for Sunday

2011-12-04T11:33:00.002+01:00

I'm currently filling in this lengthy online form by the German Academic Council in connection with a research evaluation exercise they're putting us through this year.

Yes, that's how I'm spending my Sunday. Good thing the weather's lousy and I have no adventy things to do.

Anyway, in the section entitled "Awards and prizes" I'm asked to list "important" awards and prizes bestowed upon me in the past 5 years . Which made me giggle - a bit - until it made me depressed. But thankfully my otherwise unhealthy associationism kicked in and pulled me out of my slough of despond by reminding me of a line in XTC's "The Mayor of Simpleton": the one about "all those Nobel prizes that I've never won."

Which in turn reminded me just how charming this track is:

And now I'm feeling better.

Separated by a common language

2011-12-03T20:20:00.001+01:00

Something I ran across in The Spectator while looking for something rather different:

I reckon myself fairly competent as an interpreter of American newspaper headlines, but the Washington correspondent of the Morning Post sends one which, even with his translation as a guide, I still find baffling at points. It reads

‘MIDWAY SIGNS LIMEY PROF TO DOPE YANK TALK’

and its purport appears to be that the University of Chicago has invited an Oxford professor to supervise the production of a dictionary of American English. Most of it, of course, crystal clear. But—Midway? And Limey?
‘A Spectator’s Notebook’ (by ‘Janus’), 1 January 1937, p. 6

There was a follow-up the next week:

Thanks are due to correspondents who have explained satisfactorily the American terms, “Midway” and “Limey.” “Midway,” as I rather suspected, is the University of Chicago, and for fairly obvious reasons. “Limey” is more interesting. In old sailing-ship days the Board of Trade required the crews of British vessels to be served with a ration of lime-juice when ten days out of port as a preventive against scurvy. Hence “lime-juicer” or “limey,”=(1) a British ship, (2) a British sailor, (3) any Britisher.
‘A Spectator’s Notebook’ (by ‘Janus’), 8 January 1937, p. 38

I would have thought that 'Limey' would have been better known back then, but perhaps not. (It was commonly known in my household growing up, but then again it was half-Limey.)

What threw me a bit was the use of the word 'dope' as a verb...

"It's only the guilty who concern themselves with clearing their names'

2011-12-02T22:31:00.000+01:00

John Darnielle throws away songs for which others would kill.

This is the end of childhood

2011-12-01T22:12:00.007+01:00

I grew up during the decades of creative synergy between the Federal Republic of Germany and Czechoslovakia. Oh, did those Czechs make beautiful ~~weapons~~ TV programmes for children! Luzie, der Schrecken der Straße, Die Märchenbraut - and above all, Drei Nüsse für Aschenbrödel, which today enjoys a cult-following amongst nostalgic German thirty-somethings. This was a very happy time indeed.

For years all I wanted to do is learn Czech and say "ahoi" to my friends behind the iron curtain (Czechoslovakia never seemed very iron-curtainy to us because of those programmes - only like a mildly more grimy and old-fashioned Germany). Prague was like a far off wonderland where plasticine figures played pranks on neighbourhood bullies and Breughel paintings would come to life to jingling Mark Mothersbaugh-style soundtracks. People looked shoddy but were clearly happy - more open, witty and creative than us mollycoddled capitalists with our digital watches.

I shed secret tears when the beautiful Dana Vavrova died two years ago of cancer, an actress whose career began in the Czech fairy tale TV circuit and who later on became well-known in Germany.

And I was deeply saddened to read today about the death of Zdenek Miler, another marvellously creative Czech, and father of the little mole beloved by generations of German children.

I remember watching these films in 8-mil versions in school.

Rest in peace, Zdenek Miler - you made so many of us very, very happy!

'You are John Carter of Earth?'

2011-12-01T21:45:00.001+01:00

Why, yes I am!

But this guy's experiences bear only a glancing similarity with my own.

Father Rhine is a bit thirsty

2011-12-01T10:45:00.001+01:00

Germany is currently experiencing the driest November since records were kept (g).

Which has meant that here on our part of the Rhine, people can stroll about on what is usually covered by several metres of water....

(Photo source)

Thrill of victory

2011-11-27T21:06:00.001+01:00

Mainz 05 (which has not been playing so well this season), today, beat Bayern München (which, otherwise, has).

Nice...

Readerly smudges on the windowpanes of history

2011-11-24T10:53:00.001+01:00

I know very little about the Polish poet Czeslaw Milosz and even less about his poetry.

But I liked this quotation from an article in the TLS about the centenary celebrations of the poet's life:

As Robert Hass put it, readers “press their noses longingly against the window of people who have had dramatic historical experiences”.

Nicely put.

"Creativity is the capacity in us that tries to save us from madness"

2011-11-23T19:06:00.005+01:00

Title quote by Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? (2011)

Precision humour

2011-11-16T11:49:00.001+01:00

At Deutschland über Elvis, the Honourable Husband does us all a great service by examining German and Swiss humour.

This reminded me of some comments on related topics from our friend Andrew at German Joys.

Let the hilarity ensue!

(I'm headed off to a conference (pdf) in Austria later today and I'm wondering: what is Austrian humour like? Is it distinctive from either the German or Swiss varieties? Any pointers?)

Memory of an old friend

2011-11-15T09:59:00.001+01:00

A friend and former fellow student at Northern Illinois University wrote to me today to remind me that it is the tenth anniversary of the death of one of the most directly influential figures in what we might somewhat grandly call my academic development: Professor Marvin S. Rosen.

Some background on him is provided by this old article from an NIU newsletter. NIU now offers a small undergraduate award in his honour.

As often happens, the one-sentence email brings back nearly a decade and a half of memories: the student house party on a snowy night in DeKalb during my freshman year where I first met him, his inspiring teaching style over four years of studies, long talks with him about history and life during countless dinners at his house, a tour through Bloomsbury in the late 1990s of his old haunts from the 1960s, and many more.

I was fortunate to find in him not only a generous, patient and challenging mentor but also a good friend.

And I know that I was far from alone in that.

Silent posting

2011-11-13T14:32:00.004+01:00

I am, I guess, a little tired of writing. Which is why I've decided to move on to different media.

Forthcoming

2011-11-12T19:57:00.001+01:00

Those of you who either know us personally or read things here regularly will know that I've spent a significant part of my time over the last six years working on a book about a poisoning trial in Britain in 1928 that became an enormous press sensation: the trial of Beatrice Pace for the alleged murder of her husband Harry.

The book -- The Most Remarkable Woman in England: Poison, Celebrity and the Trials of Beatrice Pace -- is now making its way through the production process and should come out (from Manchester University Press) next spring or summer (I don't have a firm date yet). In order to raise awareness of the book and to give me a space in which I can present additional details of the book, go into the process of researching it and offer some broader commentary on the historiography of crime, justice and media in the 1920s, I've set up a new blog, http://pacecase.blogspot.com.

There, you'll find details about the case, the book and myself.I hope to keep it regularly updated with interesting material about the book and related material. If you think that you'd be interested in this book, please do follow the new blog, and do whatever internety things are generally done to bring attention to new sites if you feel that this is the kind of thing deserving attention.

And I hope you do!

Colour in your cheeks

2011-11-11T22:32:00.001+01:00

It's been a while. Time for TMG:

Have a nice weekend!