tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43774217225209903992024-03-05T07:33:16.796-08:00The Solitary BeePhilip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-53161790107312964952014-03-15T04:53:00.001-07:002014-03-15T04:53:11.547-07:00<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Cor, you do get to go to some amazing places when you write books, and meet some amazing people there. Here I am on a panel with TV's <a href="http://www.charliehigson.co.uk/about/">Charlie Higson</a> in Dubai. (He looks a bit bored actually - I hope I didn't bang on too much).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oSYMPELiLchTo2erIz-Ues8V551mcaO8Sa6XkcrvcTJ6grQCrZOQJdrBLA20OMTT67fPDIE21RAf3NcO9qRw27JRQCkr2uoUzDB5yXJ5Vv89ZLZnzzHq96PWgDOnMeltFu4L85-2xLLU/s1600/dubai_reevehigson_zps14f1af18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oSYMPELiLchTo2erIz-Ues8V551mcaO8Sa6XkcrvcTJ6grQCrZOQJdrBLA20OMTT67fPDIE21RAf3NcO9qRw27JRQCkr2uoUzDB5yXJ5Vv89ZLZnzzHq96PWgDOnMeltFu4L85-2xLLU/s1600/dubai_reevehigson_zps14f1af18.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I never used to have the nerve to go abroad for festivals and events when I was a lonesome solo author (or get invited to many, to be honest) but now that I'm one half of Reeve & McIntyre Productions that's all changed, so I was very happy to be asked to attend the renowned <a href="https://www.emirateslitfest.com/">Emirates Airlines Festival of Literature</a> last week.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLW1Ck-HwO4I8mtb8KN5hjOAxSQY3KqIYS-aR0TCjYex1oVK0DXluC-4Q-pdEOy5vm6eMuKZV4tMhmUTPYiYx3q_jnrxhFiPtBaZ56CxII2cHPW7SxYcstzjuuTE-OoFvFcoxx3tFMeVmy/s1600/8f28d9bea30911e39f820e2e4b3a7b0e_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLW1Ck-HwO4I8mtb8KN5hjOAxSQY3KqIYS-aR0TCjYex1oVK0DXluC-4Q-pdEOy5vm6eMuKZV4tMhmUTPYiYx3q_jnrxhFiPtBaZ56CxII2cHPW7SxYcstzjuuTE-OoFvFcoxx3tFMeVmy/s1600/8f28d9bea30911e39f820e2e4b3a7b0e_7.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="http://jabberworks.livejournal.com/625071.html">McIntyre has already blogged about our adventures</a>, and there's not really much that I can add to her account, except my own small thank you to Emirates Airlines for flying us out there in such style, and to the lovely and hard-working festival team for making it all such a pleasant experience. Here's Sarah's picture of them, taken at the closing ceremony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYl68EwPSDVh2x8QZ6jBUBK-RqK4MZ0kbfdD8KqxDNgK2w20EBJf3V55nCVAMU05FBs0sC5uio-wHDGNvy-NEC-eayH2qpcrOSjmOsPB4ar1AOl90weRcFjPuluNu5abUnUcl0y_IHOe1d/s1600/dubai_festival_team_zps1a2d3006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYl68EwPSDVh2x8QZ6jBUBK-RqK4MZ0kbfdD8KqxDNgK2w20EBJf3V55nCVAMU05FBs0sC5uio-wHDGNvy-NEC-eayH2qpcrOSjmOsPB4ar1AOl90weRcFjPuluNu5abUnUcl0y_IHOe1d/s1600/dubai_festival_team_zps1a2d3006.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I originally decided to go because I thought I ought to see the desert. And I did! Here it is, look; your actual desert! It's got a dead bush in it and everything...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdACLEM2VULO9DKxPazj7jL01gvSYMggQQQkOnS6rzLufbmws-6LsTmYkNDYFdzoakPYjIk36JxPOdHybnoJXhI1-kBIU6yad24m7ejLcP5z_QnYwRT-46HF3B3sMWeJHO04iGUNl1ozsC/s1600/884e9f28a4e611e3816f0eceecffb26d_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdACLEM2VULO9DKxPazj7jL01gvSYMggQQQkOnS6rzLufbmws-6LsTmYkNDYFdzoakPYjIk36JxPOdHybnoJXhI1-kBIU6yad24m7ejLcP5z_QnYwRT-46HF3B3sMWeJHO04iGUNl1ozsC/s1600/884e9f28a4e611e3816f0eceecffb26d_7.jpg" height="400" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
And here I am, wandering about in it, thinking IMPORTANT AUTHOR-Y THOUGHTS (all right, looking for a place for a wee)...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk99lCeSNS_7rwSdnQDfIK_mRJzBf3zIm8tRIQSVrOonf-2dSq2eVWsTBHfGPQffFwgiC2Ar28n0KG_E_oWwqwZ85_Y_r828PspsawRcH5zY1VB3-4iY02O7p8FSkxs9Ihq6YpN59Q04OG/s1600/5e782bd0a4f811e383d012dabd1c8057_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk99lCeSNS_7rwSdnQDfIK_mRJzBf3zIm8tRIQSVrOonf-2dSq2eVWsTBHfGPQffFwgiC2Ar28n0KG_E_oWwqwZ85_Y_r828PspsawRcH5zY1VB3-4iY02O7p8FSkxs9Ihq6YpN59Q04OG/s1600/5e782bd0a4f811e383d012dabd1c8057_6.jpg" height="400" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
What I hadn't been prepared for was the sheer wondrousness of Dubai itself, a bizarre city of humming expressways and immense skyscrapers sprouting from land which was mostly desert itself until a few decades ago. One of the people Sarah met during the festival (and I sadly didn't get a chance to talk to) was local science fiction writer <a href="https://twitter.com/NouraNoman">Noura Noman</a>. 'How odd,' said someone in the green room, when Sarah mentioned her later. 'You don't expect to find science fiction writers here.' But if you live in a city like this, I don't see how you could possibly write anything else...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQXO63a71TJ9Oebnf1eTiXx7lYPUIoGZL2PxxgGRG5C2SMgnaLAdEEyW4tghEMmrekSlLnPfErTca5EwLW6DvirkrhwKVfv3B6KlmAYYqUm1-tEVicXr9YOvCRct6satV3XqqCHGGhuZ1/s1600/golden+tower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQXO63a71TJ9Oebnf1eTiXx7lYPUIoGZL2PxxgGRG5C2SMgnaLAdEEyW4tghEMmrekSlLnPfErTca5EwLW6DvirkrhwKVfv3B6KlmAYYqUm1-tEVicXr9YOvCRct6satV3XqqCHGGhuZ1/s1600/golden+tower.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="319" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmemcCz5AC_VvWSPNNkFIM0WjtXs0oKIZMbEIVeD3VZMY8S3rBH6LXWX8co06LWdOlK3EOqothxIzqKAw_-NCOm6nvtkPSOccST3Fq-Wl8V5TYMT2LRD7h7WuTFaBViiHvNkF51X92lRW/s1600/Dubai1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmemcCz5AC_VvWSPNNkFIM0WjtXs0oKIZMbEIVeD3VZMY8S3rBH6LXWX8co06LWdOlK3EOqothxIzqKAw_-NCOm6nvtkPSOccST3Fq-Wl8V5TYMT2LRD7h7WuTFaBViiHvNkF51X92lRW/s1600/Dubai1.jpg" height="400" style="cursor: move;" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8OIjaYJd-MxvXLnn0EBYAe2AJ2NHu1ebw0-U-7qUVRaIPoMg3egi3FbbMLsagcBNCyv7tHl9ibIgA5NvtmxLGDNuxYb_nAGb-vOaxdShtpfp-uks0LSdtEdcSqLD229BJmwUoX4BvJv1S/s1600/Dubai3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8OIjaYJd-MxvXLnn0EBYAe2AJ2NHu1ebw0-U-7qUVRaIPoMg3egi3FbbMLsagcBNCyv7tHl9ibIgA5NvtmxLGDNuxYb_nAGb-vOaxdShtpfp-uks0LSdtEdcSqLD229BJmwUoX4BvJv1S/s1600/Dubai3.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ72TzxrNI6FK9YBgioCDFPpPjexy25kVF2mC07nrlOsr435HcntRRBy5Q2-sZ-CaJVHkNEmn4N6wy3-ICdnT-T1qrBAUrawCSH98rRhcenvlqShsh6MZ-ASIKbFi1iHKAQYZXhXv_CpL6/s1600/9bf2afa0a4f611e3b89912c4abc13674_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ72TzxrNI6FK9YBgioCDFPpPjexy25kVF2mC07nrlOsr435HcntRRBy5Q2-sZ-CaJVHkNEmn4N6wy3-ICdnT-T1qrBAUrawCSH98rRhcenvlqShsh6MZ-ASIKbFi1iHKAQYZXhXv_CpL6/s1600/9bf2afa0a4f611e3b89912c4abc13674_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-agOSSuwYHwISVu_7FuuzBeCpgj2uvSRoD8tcsdME0G_VL7UA6MIFv4pTJR8EI0mLI4lhpyeq0UsSsJFW1SoqhvhgTWjtpI4O8kG5Iouh_-i1rPQPlznMCVE4c_L-HLYnI3N_g6TV9CAU/s1600/Dubai4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-agOSSuwYHwISVu_7FuuzBeCpgj2uvSRoD8tcsdME0G_VL7UA6MIFv4pTJR8EI0mLI4lhpyeq0UsSsJFW1SoqhvhgTWjtpI4O8kG5Iouh_-i1rPQPlznMCVE4c_L-HLYnI3N_g6TV9CAU/s1600/Dubai4.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ72TzxrNI6FK9YBgioCDFPpPjexy25kVF2mC07nrlOsr435HcntRRBy5Q2-sZ-CaJVHkNEmn4N6wy3-ICdnT-T1qrBAUrawCSH98rRhcenvlqShsh6MZ-ASIKbFi1iHKAQYZXhXv_CpL6/s1600/9bf2afa0a4f611e3b89912c4abc13674_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ72TzxrNI6FK9YBgioCDFPpPjexy25kVF2mC07nrlOsr435HcntRRBy5Q2-sZ-CaJVHkNEmn4N6wy3-ICdnT-T1qrBAUrawCSH98rRhcenvlqShsh6MZ-ASIKbFi1iHKAQYZXhXv_CpL6/s1600/9bf2afa0a4f611e3b89912c4abc13674_7.jpg" height="400" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_tEwyNeX5itJjeuss7B16tALvcH2yhRuCuxl0sf9Yn91OaQchMjHuBXWRVGOCiwyzhvCxnMdFs4NtUc8P_s2fg-4jSMz7DBsfFnYTV6w0w4RcV8OORLZtANAPrKb761A58ux7JF5bBNn/s1600/b838d684a7c211e3a2530e616ca66f71_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_tEwyNeX5itJjeuss7B16tALvcH2yhRuCuxl0sf9Yn91OaQchMjHuBXWRVGOCiwyzhvCxnMdFs4NtUc8P_s2fg-4jSMz7DBsfFnYTV6w0w4RcV8OORLZtANAPrKb761A58ux7JF5bBNn/s1600/b838d684a7c211e3a2530e616ca66f71_7.jpg" height="400" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27T8YFt6M4J31qYvlsRl0DOtwAn-xtAgQMA_QowD88CSOI8OHUS0fRB_vyYokhiUOsnL1fQKMxiUbc_Da4Lgd8GEFnZEbe7oFiK3D1qdbLabZFoPTvRLTx4ut0NjDMY8TQCX4alMuBijy/s1600/Dubai5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27T8YFt6M4J31qYvlsRl0DOtwAn-xtAgQMA_QowD88CSOI8OHUS0fRB_vyYokhiUOsnL1fQKMxiUbc_Da4Lgd8GEFnZEbe7oFiK3D1qdbLabZFoPTvRLTx4ut0NjDMY8TQCX4alMuBijy/s1600/Dubai5.jpg" height="640" style="cursor: move;" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
All of these photos were taken from the observation deck of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burj_Khalifa">Burj Khalifa</a>, the tallest building - and tallest man-made structure - IN THE WORLD. Here's its shadow, slicing across the facade of a tiddly little ordinary-sized skyscraper. And that little gold spindle-shaped thing on the right is a metro station (Dubai has the coolest railway stations I've ever seen). Apparently the water in those massive artificial lakes (like almost all Dubai's water) comes from desalination.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6DgILAW-_y7ZDpZH71x63VBwFyEbjSDH9f2jLCtE1h6D58eU2rU2_pMCokHpvvt4nW9wuuu0jg0ZxgOhCvdrIpL0CKIoazNAwtyq9I72FMQNK2qLwpunrySihdE_begf5n8FhwAIwImR/s1600/Dubai6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6DgILAW-_y7ZDpZH71x63VBwFyEbjSDH9f2jLCtE1h6D58eU2rU2_pMCokHpvvt4nW9wuuu0jg0ZxgOhCvdrIpL0CKIoazNAwtyq9I72FMQNK2qLwpunrySihdE_begf5n8FhwAIwImR/s1600/Dubai6.jpg" height="400" style="cursor: move;" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
All this sci-fi bling comes as a bit of a shock to European sensibilities. I heard some of my fellow authors sniggering (a little defensively) at what they saw as the tackiness of the city's malls and megastructures. I was told several times that I really ought to see the 'real' Dubai, the older districts along the creek, where the gold souk and the spice souk are, and the ships from India and Iran offload their crates. Well, I did get a glimpse of that Dubai, and very evocative and interesting it was too. But the new city is something else entirely; crowded, diverse, oppressive, beautiful. And it doesn't really matter whether we like it or not - fifty years from now, all cities will be like Dubai. I'm hugely grateful to the Festival organisers for letting me have this glimpse of the future!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQub5KQY_fPmiAcYC5L1P8JNzIpt5vdwcm3S3_M63s0KBhRBjT4i9CSSzoVvfvmIs41vooNalMNwQhrD2XhOsKMdGwUo2ZStKvhGX1p6S3RJfB1mVhHBotqBuaiTEZEO9X66-8cmsPZQwN/s1600/Dubai+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQub5KQY_fPmiAcYC5L1P8JNzIpt5vdwcm3S3_M63s0KBhRBjT4i9CSSzoVvfvmIs41vooNalMNwQhrD2XhOsKMdGwUo2ZStKvhGX1p6S3RJfB1mVhHBotqBuaiTEZEO9X66-8cmsPZQwN/s1600/Dubai+sunset.jpg" height="324" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-18730573958129899362012-08-30T01:38:00.002-07:002012-10-15T08:13:28.315-07:00AliensI did <a href="http://philipreeve.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/alien.html">a long blog post about the 1979 Ridley Scott movie <i>Alien</i> on my personal blog</a> a few weeks back (it should have appeared here on the <i>Bee</i> really, but I wrote it on my blog by mistake and then couldn't transfer it without losing all the pictures). So it seemed only fair to go on and write about <i>Aliens</i>, the James Cameron sequel from 1986. There will be SPOILERS.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2rdvE5G1ppqr38q_MTOkHCdkcam8qKFQGPqHjBOTGqU-XvyKX4V3SN9b6ImWz3p8JFoOlgLs4lGtl30OBEKB1XfN1BnSg5dTSe2vhxJvJjjAnByRiguiamdnVeQyG8abOCO9TGlPTjk/s1600/220px-Aliens_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2rdvE5G1ppqr38q_MTOkHCdkcam8qKFQGPqHjBOTGqU-XvyKX4V3SN9b6ImWz3p8JFoOlgLs4lGtl30OBEKB1XfN1BnSg5dTSe2vhxJvJjjAnByRiguiamdnVeQyG8abOCO9TGlPTjk/s320/220px-Aliens_poster.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
When I ordered <i>Aliens</i> on DVD I accidentally bought the 'Special Edition'. This adds an extra 15 minutes or so to the theatrical release which I saw and loved when it came out. I usually steer clear of special editions and director's cuts of films I like (I preferred <i>Blade Runner</i> when it had a voice over and a happy(ish) ending) but in this case I was quite impressed. The only downside is the addition of a slightly cheesy bit of back-story for Ripley ( it turns out she's lost a daughter, which is a Hollywood scriptwriter's explanation for why she befriends and protects the little girl in the movie - and there I was thinking it was just because she was a decent human being). Other than that, the restored footage really does improve the pace and mood, and allows for a lot of welcome little extra character details.<br />
<br />
The film picks up where <i>Alien</i> left off, with Sigourney Weaver's Ripley, the sole survivor of the Nostromo, drifting deep-frozen in her space-lifeboat. But - shock, horror!- when she's rescued by a salvage team she discovers that decades have passed since the first film ended, and the desolate planet where the alien was discovered is now home to a terraforming colony. The sinister company she works for doesn't believe her account of the alien, but when contact with the colony is lost she is persuaded to go back as an advisor with a squad of sweaty, sweary space marines to see what's happened.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjel4ttu_IQqHhQhpKNm6oNl-tp5enVc8qS441XHLDlS3CH4oSUe48_30DWhaibIB6sJKoT1j7Pay74hY30qnnU_Lb_4so6ImuJUmTz2wDBSV7hVoVk7sMLLnLy66sPVnp1vUNCNS8W948/s1600/cimg9144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjel4ttu_IQqHhQhpKNm6oNl-tp5enVc8qS441XHLDlS3CH4oSUe48_30DWhaibIB6sJKoT1j7Pay74hY30qnnU_Lb_4so6ImuJUmTz2wDBSV7hVoVk7sMLLnLy66sPVnp1vUNCNS8W948/s400/cimg9144.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Ron Cobb design for the film.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
What's happened, needless to say, is that loads of horrible aliens have killed everybody in hideous ways, and once the marines have got into the apparently deserted colony buildings they have the Devil's own job getting back out again: the second half of the film is one long siege/chase, as the dwindling band of survivors scramble out of the frying pan and into the fire again and again and again.<br />
<br />
A criticism I've seen offered of <i>Aliens</i> is that it simply rehashes all the elements of the first film. To me, however, this doesn't matter at all because a) that's sort of what we want sequels to do, isn't it? and b) it uses these familiar elements to create a completely different film. <i>Alien</i> is a bleak, haunting, horror film: <i>Aliens</i> is an exciting war story/action movie, and because its tone and aims are so different it somehow manages to step out of the shadow of its predecessor while paying ceaseless visual and narrative homage to it.<br />
<br />
It never sets out to terrify us in the same way as <i>Alien</i>, although there a few effective shocks, and the bit where Ripley is trapped in a room with a couple of scuttling facehuggers is hard to watch if you're an arachnophobe (I've only ever seen that bit through the gaps between my fingers). It also uses our memories of the first film to create tension. The scene where the marines first make their way into the deserted colony was almost unbearably edge-of-seat the first time I saw it, while Lance Henriksen's creepy android Bishop, all lank red hair and poached-egg stare, looked likely to be as treacherous as the android in the original film. Overall it feels much more like a piece of Hollywood product that <i>Alien</i>, but it's so expertly done that I can't help but be delighted by it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqvYflQtX4EZb0bcmUusHp_0nKdj3cCYrnbS69xu7v_pZ98v8qHv883t-pMvaeYmk1uqL-Qn3iOmtdQGMQMAGFR56keHrSAqiMZJjG4IxNvcf7b9beg-qT4-8MJzwZcS_N8zaYe6AeFK8/s1600/tumblr_m73ufv0LAf1rxy75ro3_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqvYflQtX4EZb0bcmUusHp_0nKdj3cCYrnbS69xu7v_pZ98v8qHv883t-pMvaeYmk1uqL-Qn3iOmtdQGMQMAGFR56keHrSAqiMZJjG4IxNvcf7b9beg-qT4-8MJzwZcS_N8zaYe6AeFK8/s640/tumblr_m73ufv0LAf1rxy75ro3_1280.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Take the marines, for instance. It's sometimes hard to get a handle on the minor characters in military movies - they all tend to be about the same age, wear the same uniforms, have the same haircuts, and spend their time covered in camouflage face-paint shouting things like 'Incoming!'. Most of the platoon in <i>Aliens</i> don't get much screen-time, yet each of them has a line or two of dialogue that helps us to identify them; they may be stereotypes, but we feel we know them. 'Have you ever been mistaken for a man?' the company wiseguy asks tough lady marine Vasquez as they prepare for their mission. 'No," she snaps back. 'Have you?' Not exactly Oscar Wilde, perhaps, but it serves to introduce them, and tag them in our memories so that we at least know who's who when the acidic alien goo starts hitting the fan.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0vX_8ufhHAVywkN_L0pziUrnR-OTM7PGX2aXFmIapelXcxifn184x6_lXQGHYvL5ZIMefOvqkEY8u4wpzYFJ6YRpe8yhJ24bOgV1Q9QAOG01WM8r42lJu3DnRbJQ1QXaFZIIuPnVGuA/s1600/Aliens02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0vX_8ufhHAVywkN_L0pziUrnR-OTM7PGX2aXFmIapelXcxifn184x6_lXQGHYvL5ZIMefOvqkEY8u4wpzYFJ6YRpe8yhJ24bOgV1Q9QAOG01WM8r42lJu3DnRbJQ1QXaFZIIuPnVGuA/s400/Aliens02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Unfortunately the marines are also the film's most serious flaw. Cameron makes heavy-handed points about military arrogance and incompetence, but his take on soldiering seems to come entirely from the Vietnam movies of the late seventies and early eighties, and his marines behave more like strung-out conscripts than the hardened professionals they're supposed to be. And while real-life officers may sometimes be useless, it's hard to imagine them being <i>quite</i> as useless as Lieutenant Gorman. When he issues a panicky order to his troops that they mustn't actually fire their guns as they creep into the alien lair beneath the colony's nuclear reactor, the loud creaking noise we detect is the sound of the film makers stacking the odds against our heroes.<br />
<br />
What makes this more annoying is that it's unnecessary: the marines could be as competent and believable as those in <i><a href="http://www.hbo.com/generation-kill/index.html">Generation Kill</a> </i>and <i>still</i> be defeated by the aliens. In fact, wouldn't that make it <i>more</i> exciting? Wouldn't that make it <i>more </i>of a vindication for Ripley when they end up looking to her for leadership?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshW-w43GlltI_LINtA4Go5RYNCZBjIDWgqsoKzoex_yA3qKjpCnOKWXgYeWJ4dADVF3fypLpidy2UpEh3C6HQmBbyVN_NMFBovTpXhdxuIdNd22DVb4JFu16l35jXnR0W6-MglpED9Z4/s1600/Aliens+pic+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshW-w43GlltI_LINtA4Go5RYNCZBjIDWgqsoKzoex_yA3qKjpCnOKWXgYeWJ4dADVF3fypLpidy2UpEh3C6HQmBbyVN_NMFBovTpXhdxuIdNd22DVb4JFu16l35jXnR0W6-MglpED9Z4/s400/Aliens+pic+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The other problem is the little girl, Newt, who is discovered living wild under the floors of the colony, all her friends and family having been dragged off to the basement to act as gro-bags for baby aliens. I'm sorry to say that the young actress who plays her isn't really very good: her lines sound rote-learned, her movements are often studied, and she isn't even much cop at screaming (which she does a lot of). She makes you appreciate all the more the amazing performances which someone like Steven Spielberg can get out of child actors.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90wNDvklJox6O9aWCNfvKmiOb63CEKk-35H9Y-L_9VD5ya7a9oCWX-nNqYZFxc6PuXgicw7JDKgNWAA4Y-vk5La5VHfV9Q-OCxOdMDqIAYnH5gW39ZdzeG2h0e4wendXRQyIbt9gKl48/s1600/aliens-movie-still-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90wNDvklJox6O9aWCNfvKmiOb63CEKk-35H9Y-L_9VD5ya7a9oCWX-nNqYZFxc6PuXgicw7JDKgNWAA4Y-vk5La5VHfV9Q-OCxOdMDqIAYnH5gW39ZdzeG2h0e4wendXRQyIbt9gKl48/s400/aliens-movie-still-9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
But most films have their flaws, and <i>Aliens's</i> are far outweighed by the good bits. The best of which is Sigourney Weaver's performance as Ripley. I believe <i>Alien</i> was her first speaking role, and although she's perfectly good in it, she's one face in an ensemble and doesn't have to do a lot more than run about looking worried. <i>Aliens </i>revolves around her, and without her it would be unimaginable. At the beginning she is traumatised by the events of the first film - the special edition, with its slightly slower pace, emphasises this - and her obvious dread adds to the foreboding that hangs over those first scenes where the marine squad set down outside the colony. Then, as the story moves on, she somehow gathers an immense inner courage, and ends up doing the things that usually only the male protagonists get to do in movies. When she turns back into the doomed colony to rescue her lost ward she is acting in the the tradition of a hundred Hollywood heroes. Taller, bonier, and slightly older than your average movie heroine, she was and remains the strongest female character I've ever seen in a film of this type.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Wm6Cze_PdtuZduKMN5F5iH9HvPgWsrBXibR5B2SEwIiNttNfbmox9xtqBgSWCeM7EAhAMmmeHJ_ZQKhwAeTdKPmq9SxISf_lyAVxFaGWuLrzFkjWBqiPYRGYdjxAooiJGH18LvH5fiQ/s1600/tumblr_ksydgfCg8k1qzexpio1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Wm6Cze_PdtuZduKMN5F5iH9HvPgWsrBXibR5B2SEwIiNttNfbmox9xtqBgSWCeM7EAhAMmmeHJ_ZQKhwAeTdKPmq9SxISf_lyAVxFaGWuLrzFkjWBqiPYRGYdjxAooiJGH18LvH5fiQ/s320/tumblr_ksydgfCg8k1qzexpio1_500.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I think in the end, while <i>Alien</i> is clearly a better and a more important movie, <i>Aliens</i> is the one I enjoy more. In some ways the differences between the two sum up the differences between mainstream American films of the bleak, pessimistic '70s and the upbeat, can-do '80s. In <i>Alien</i>, one of the good guys turns out to be a sinister robot; in <i>Aliens</i> the sinister robot turns out to be a good guy after all. At the end of <i>Alien </i>when Ripley falls asleep in her chilly space-fridge she has lost everything and has only a cat for company. By the end of <i>Aliens</i> she has managed to assemble a little family around her. If you like your SF bleak and 1970s-ish you'll prefer the former images, but I think the end of the second film, with its two sleepers instead of one, makes a perfect, unexpectedly tender end to the story. <br />
<br />
And of course it<i> is</i> the end: one hears rumours of a third and fourth film, of various spin-offs and some kind of prequel, but these are just misinformation seeping through to us from a parallel universe with less taste and greedier film makers than our own. Happily, Hollywood knew when to stop for once. There were only ever two <i>Alien/s</i> films.<br />
<br />
<br />Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-17035533702138591212012-07-08T00:49:00.001-07:002012-07-08T00:49:20.771-07:00Guest Post: Costly KidsThanks to Karen Dahl at <a href="http://www.earlychildhoodeducation.com/">Early Childhood Education</a>, who has sent me this cheery infographic on the costs of raising a child:<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.earlychildhoodeducation.com/cost-of-a-child"><img border="0" alt="Costly Kids" src="http://images.earlychildhoodeducation.com.s3.amazonaws.com/costly-kids.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
Created by: <a href="http://www.earlychildhoodeducation.com/">EarlyChildhoodEducation.com</a>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-44460712178228980362012-06-04T02:09:00.000-07:002012-06-04T07:25:36.785-07:00Guest Post: Katzenjammer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">By <b>Bill Havercroft.</b></span><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl47mYHuwrBUpf6v1NkLHGYRW8ckjscqrnRwVFvgb_y5JqLuoId3VgQMk9a8JWCh0yo3CXjHLcme8tz_JOVYB4ZXnE_ppV3wh40oomeo3Zzp2iY70fRhyusCwj0A0fc520EP_uxeJp26E/s1600/Marianne-og-Akero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl47mYHuwrBUpf6v1NkLHGYRW8ckjscqrnRwVFvgb_y5JqLuoId3VgQMk9a8JWCh0yo3CXjHLcme8tz_JOVYB4ZXnE_ppV3wh40oomeo3Zzp2iY70fRhyusCwj0A0fc520EP_uxeJp26E/s640/Marianne-og-Akero.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Listening to one of Norwegian all-female band <a href="http://www.katzenjammer.no/">Katzenjammer</a>'s two studio albums with no prior knowledge, you would be forgiven for getting the wrong impression. Here's a bunch of sweet-voiced girls, performing well-written songs covering a wide selection of genres but essentially falling under the single adjective "folksy", assisted, by the sound of it, by a solid session band and all the usual studio production magic. Big deal.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxFlOkIAlObMPxeZ50Vp2s-2p-14K7Dzxrjpxb-PIFjXCbBt-ptU08Al5nJ5ZQ3z4UdZAbOkAUwAJAsR2Okj9yAGLBEW47ZRy2WgzDC94fz8LWvqxjRj-VZa1p0219oW4K7ZpxZZLTws/s1600/megT-AM-og-trompet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxFlOkIAlObMPxeZ50Vp2s-2p-14K7Dzxrjpxb-PIFjXCbBt-ptU08Al5nJ5ZQ3z4UdZAbOkAUwAJAsR2Okj9yAGLBEW47ZRy2WgzDC94fz8LWvqxjRj-VZa1p0219oW4K7ZpxZZLTws/s320/megT-AM-og-trompet.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So you shouldn't do this. Instead, you should go immediately to YouTube and find some good-quality clips of them performing live. This should clarify a few things. Firstly, yes the Katzenjammer ladies all can really sing. Their repertoire calls on several different female vocal specialities: the fragile chanteuse, the sultry jazz siren, the operatic soprano, the roaring rock goddess, and my personal favourite, tight four-part harmony (I'm a sucker for good four-part harmonies). Lead singer duty rotates between the four members, just like the girl bands of yore, and they always sound great.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip94ooBQeuFV3ztxhG_G5mhMypgq9KIUO2AZ0QbsYi15hnTNx9rckbkdUER3omaq3BWbsQq029Q-f3v95DwCf3ArRr8SGFko_YZhrRPDq7diJwBEcp4zpV44ZJw27SzpHLU_K-I9cpPf8/s1600/AM-med-arm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip94ooBQeuFV3ztxhG_G5mhMypgq9KIUO2AZ0QbsYi15hnTNx9rckbkdUER3omaq3BWbsQq029Q-f3v95DwCf3ArRr8SGFko_YZhrRPDq7diJwBEcp4zpV44ZJw27SzpHLU_K-I9cpPf8/s400/AM-med-arm.jpg" width="265" /></span></a></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Secondly, it's clear that the girls are in fact extremely talented instrumentalists. They use a huge variety of instruments, and the rotation of the lead singer from song to song extends to mixing around who plays what. It sounds like a gimmick, but there's no trade-off; every member plays every instrument she picks up like a pro. It's a wonderful thing to witness.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Thirdly, "stage presence" is an ill-defined term, but goddamn, Katzenjammer have it, whatever it is. It goes beyond their technical ability, the quality of their songs and their glamorous, fanciful stage outfits. They obviously simply love to perform, and so they pour absolutely everything into it. The result is that they're the most stompingly entertaining live band I've seen in ages.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mdQCcsIgBoA" width="420"></iframe></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DpV1uz4AB_U" width="560"></iframe></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">At time of writing, Katzenjammer are in the middle of a short UK tour, before embarking on what looks like an absolutely rammed schedule of summer festival appearances across Europe. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Photos: The <a href="http://www.katzenjammer.no/">Katzenjammer website</a>.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 13.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-7593310122237495602012-05-01T10:41:00.000-07:002012-05-01T11:46:41.235-07:00Paintwork<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizszzvpSHUvWYEUWdRil14y3gWOrSGRbmr6Qs41irZyPXNae7gl7u5n_2w98XiL0nyHomV7rkaKfdk3SbNwyVrtLiYRDoD1L91qdaKcyg-5WElul23nov253tWeGkmSWndNY-GO6rPyUU/s1600/paintwork_ad300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizszzvpSHUvWYEUWdRil14y3gWOrSGRbmr6Qs41irZyPXNae7gl7u5n_2w98XiL0nyHomV7rkaKfdk3SbNwyVrtLiYRDoD1L91qdaKcyg-5WElul23nov253tWeGkmSWndNY-GO6rPyUU/s1600/paintwork_ad300.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
If you'd asked me before I read Tim Maughan's debut collection <b><i>Paintwork</i></b>, I'd probably have said that 'Hip, cutting-edge cyberpunk with a techno-rave attitude' wasn't really my cup of tea. The observation, familiar from William Gibson and other cyberpunk writers, that the street finds its own uses for cutting edge technology, is indisputably true, but I've never really sought out books and stories based upon it - my own imagination is stuck too firmly in the pre-digital age.<br />
<br />
But luckily I happened to sit on a reading by Tim Maughan at last year's <a href="http://www.bristolcon.org/">Bristolcon</a>, and I was immediately struck by both the crisply imagined near-future setting and the energy of the language. "..<i>.it wasn't the gait-trackers, face-clockers or even the UAVs that got 4Clover in the end. The word on the timelines had said it was a Serbian zombie-swarm hired by an irate art critic that had tracked him down and smeared his co-ordinates all across the Crime and ASB wikis.</i>" <br />
<br />
There are three stories in this short collection, and each is is set in the same very near and very credible future. In the title story a graffiti artist called 3Cube stalks the mean streets of Bristol, hacking into the QR codes on virtual reality advertising hoardings to overwrite their corporate messages with his own artwork. In <i><b>Paparazzi</b></i>, which again takes place in Bristol, a documentary maker is hired by powerful players of a MMORPG to infiltrate the game and and secure incriminating footage of a rival faction. In the third story, <i><b>Havana Augmented</b></i>, two young Cubans hack illegally downloaded VR games into new and startling forms. Each story is short (the whole book runs to 102 pages), but they have a power that is missing from many much longer works, and they linger in the memory. <br />
<br />
Personally, I liked <i><b>Paparazzi</b></i> the least, but that's because I've never really played a computer game, and find it hard to visualise immersive VR environments or understand their appeal; it's still a perfectly good story. I preferred 3Cube, busy replacing the advertisements of tomorrow with his own haunting artworks, and the young heroes of <i><b>Havana Augmented</b></i>, who hack and soup up their Virtual Reality robo-warriors as skillfully as the previous generation of Cubans augmented their 1950s American automobiles. There are some exhilarating moments as their massive, digital 'mechs' do battle in the streets of Havana. Indeed, all the stories capture the excitement of the technology that is coming our way. But, while they are far too subtle to be called 'Dystopian', these are not upbeat visions of the future. Dystopian stories are basically escapism, smashing up the real world with all its complex problems and replacing which one which ostensibly worse, but usually far simpler. The stories in <i><b>Paintwork</b></i> build on the far scarier notion that the future will be just like the present only more so. Each is about a talented young person who is trapped or tricked by the corporate interests which control their world - interests which have little use for them, or for their skills. The technology of tomorrow is, all-too believably, used purely in the service of selling us stuff , like the 'spex' which everyone in the world of <i><b>Paintwork</b></i> wears, allowing them to see the virtual reality adverts and logos plastered all over it. When the hero of <i><b>Paparazzi</b></i> is asked to meet someone at Starbucks he he just blinks at the Google Earth logo at the bottom of her virtual invitation and his spex show him a trail of football-sized coffee beans hanging in the air, leading up Bristol's Park Street to where, "<i>High in the sunny Bristol sky he could see a ten metre high latte hanging like a hot air balloon, the huge green arrow suspended from its underside pointing down at the store's location.</i>"<br />
<br />
Of course, <a href="http://www.theregister.co.uk/2012/04/04/google_project_glass/">Google are actually testing VR specs</a> as I write this. <i><b>Paintwork</b></i> is built around technological developments so imminent that in a few more years I suspect we'll all have them: we'll all be following trails of virtual coffee beans into the future. Tim Maughan's achievement is to take these dawning possibilities and spin them into pacy, cynical, neo-noir short stories. I hope he's got a novel in the works.<br />
<br />
<b>Philip Reeve</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiyYreX3qKlLD-xAU6OJYkCzphbO98W6cPswvEFAMDh__AFV1ZW4eeWuPJ3APjXZdBFV0ZnGzIVoi21fsIE4RUlRDw9W0bBkle5PAslrcYIyMcOc4YCEMfk89rVLmu2fYElsq3jWc02GU/s1600/Cover-Paintwork-flat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiyYreX3qKlLD-xAU6OJYkCzphbO98W6cPswvEFAMDh__AFV1ZW4eeWuPJ3APjXZdBFV0ZnGzIVoi21fsIE4RUlRDw9W0bBkle5PAslrcYIyMcOc4YCEMfk89rVLmu2fYElsq3jWc02GU/s320/Cover-Paintwork-flat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Here's a link to <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Paintwork-Tim-Maughan/dp/1463570465/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335893282&sr=8-1">Amazon's page for the paper version of <i><b>Paintwork</b></i></a>. They also have the Kindle version. Or you can buy it as an e-book from <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/69599">Smashwords</a>.<br />
<br />
(I notice on the Smashwords site it says that<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> '<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">This book contains content considered unsuitable for young readers 17 and under,' so You Have Been Warned... but I'm not sure what that content is. There are some four-letter words among the dialogue, but nothing you couldn't overhear in the average primary school playground. It strikes me as a book that a lot of teenagers would enjoy.)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">The </span></span>'Hip, cutting-edge cyberpunk with a techno-rave attitude' quote comes from <a href="http://the-solitary-bee.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/recollection.html">Gareth L. Powell</a>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-68377843983312697822012-04-29T10:33:00.000-07:002012-04-29T10:39:44.807-07:00A Boy and a Bear in a BoatThis is probably the most original cover I've seen on a children's book in recent years, and, happily enough, it's wrapped around one of the most original children's books I've ever read.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKAZSx73rTl7eKj6jcKBn2-M496_ATV_0F8q2WPXlqLnN-3UawVqBAiMuKuyGwVn3zqnqqdvOd-DmGmUcR46UGH-KOvaaajeBUwIH0BuXLe0nrnfwFjjqfuo7ukD8OJMv5t-3oR1wguo8/s1600/407313_10151156197460173_586675172_22655627_1889298957_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKAZSx73rTl7eKj6jcKBn2-M496_ATV_0F8q2WPXlqLnN-3UawVqBAiMuKuyGwVn3zqnqqdvOd-DmGmUcR46UGH-KOvaaajeBUwIH0BuXLe0nrnfwFjjqfuo7ukD8OJMv5t-3oR1wguo8/s1600/407313_10151156197460173_586675172_22655627_1889298957_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://daveshelton.com/">Dave Shelton</a> is already familiar to readers of the <a href="http://www.thephoenixcomic.co.uk/the-dfc/">DFC</a> and <a href="https://www.thephoenixcomic.co.uk/what-is-the-phoenix/">The Phoenix Comic</a> as the creator of the ongoing canine-noir detective series <i>Good Dog, Bad Dog</i> and several fine stand-alone strips. <b><i>A Boy and a Bear in a Boat</i></b> contains a number of his beautiful illustrations, but it's his first story in prose, and it's a remarkably assured debut. <br />
<br />
This is not a book where very much happens. The title pretty much says it all. There is this Boy. And this Bear. And they're in this Boat. That's pretty much it. Where have they come from? Where are they going? We never find out. Why? Again, we are never told. The Bear is the captain of the boat, but his slightly pompous confidence in his own navigational skills seems misplaced; they are quickly lost, and the only map on board is the one on the cover - a pretty unhelpful expanse of plain blue sea.<br />
<br />
Of course, events do punctuate the voyage. There are storms (beautifully illustrated storms, at that). A landing upon an abandoned, drifting ship. A sea monster. And a very funny sandwich. It's all described in clear, spare language, and in precise detail: reading it aloud to Sam, I almost wondered if it had started out as an idea for an animated movie. It's a bit like watching a cartoon in your head.<br />
<br />
Sam (who's 10) enjoyed it largely for its humour. There are plenty of good slapstick sequences, and the loveable but often incompetent Bear appealed to him, as did the Boy's resourcefulness, and the growing friendship between the two. He thought it was a funny book, and he's right. But reading it as an adult, I sensed something darker going on. Where has this boy come from? He has a family; they are mentioned from time to time. Why has he had to leave them? What is this voyage he is setting out on? And at the end - and I don't think is a spoiler - there really <i>isn't</i> an end: boy and bear sail on hopefully towards the next horizon and the next, but the reader senses that they will never arrive, and that their futile journey will go on for ever. <br />
<br />
Are they, I began to wonder, <i>dead?</i> The set-up is instantly reminiscent of Charon the ferryman rowing the spirits of the departed across the Styx and Acheron. Is the boy in Limbo, or some Existentialist afterlife? <i>Is </i>it just a funny story about a boy and a bear in a boat, or is the whole thing an absurd parable about the meaninglessness of life in a Godless universe?<br />
<br />
The book drops few hints. It's extraordinarily self-disciplined, resisting any temptation to expand the world of the story beyond its three basic elements. In some ways, it's powerfully depressing. But only for grown-ups. And in a good way! Read it, and see for yourself.<br />
<br />
<i><b>A Boy and a Bear in a Boat</b> is published by David Fickling Books, and is available at good bookshops, or <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Boy-Bear-Boat-Dave-Shelton/dp/0385618964/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1306224126&sr=8-3">HERE</a>.</i>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-59016944831585761532011-12-04T10:33:00.000-08:002011-12-04T12:46:00.571-08:00Knit The City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp1M_m5ojuLKdjwbyEj8iIMehhyphenhyphenf0xSzrqpq0nUnOV54K_T795UtuBpFEJxKhkHSZySInFaxq-P_XB01gVL2KdrMd6ejQqNjHwkO_3UIa_wGu1AdiXYCEZQBRUoxX1V5mufkAieTDOjY/s1600/phonebox_cosy_knit_th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp1M_m5ojuLKdjwbyEj8iIMehhyphenhyphenf0xSzrqpq0nUnOV54K_T795UtuBpFEJxKhkHSZySInFaxq-P_XB01gVL2KdrMd6ejQqNjHwkO_3UIa_wGu1AdiXYCEZQBRUoxX1V5mufkAieTDOjY/s400/phonebox_cosy_knit_th.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><i><br />
</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Knitting</i>, as the old song has it<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">*</span>; <i>what is it good for? Absolutely nothing!</i> <br />
<br />
I was forced to knit as a small child at school. I embarked on a scarf (or was it a sock?) but after a few rows it went all wonky and I cast aside my yarn and needles in disgust, feeling that I'd been taught a valuable lesson; knitting is rubbish, and if you want a scarf you should go to a shop and buy one that someone else has knitted: they knit so that we don't have to.<br />
<br />
How different it could all have been if only <b><i>Knit The City</i> </b>had been available in the craft classes of my youth. It makes knitting look fun and exciting, and it's written by a masked guerilla knitter, so it would probably have gone down really well with the mainly Trotskyite primary school teachers of the early '70s.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Knit the City</i></b> records the exploits of a group of 'yarnstormers', devoted to the art of 'enhancing a public place or object with graffitti knitting'. The first examples featured in the book are simple-looking stripey tubes, much like the leg-warmers of yesteryear, which appear mysteriously on lamp-posts, sign-post poles and bicycle cross-bars, each adorned with a tag bearing Deadly Knitshade's evocative logo:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LgnO-RP1mC0XclXuMMpS5qqKpxhc1M5PbfbLm_7pSgRENCONLDsEoFKjl5p7nCoWZlcS3Kic7IfHu4H-orhGj9IdwBMv1VuEnCgjsyPSxztR0jJEmzdBPlNvZRVnQ2ZUyHQKYSNKJb4/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LgnO-RP1mC0XclXuMMpS5qqKpxhc1M5PbfbLm_7pSgRENCONLDsEoFKjl5p7nCoWZlcS3Kic7IfHu4H-orhGj9IdwBMv1VuEnCgjsyPSxztR0jJEmzdBPlNvZRVnQ2ZUyHQKYSNKJb4/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTI5KgNt2t4kPhfkUHAe-Bq7o4dkQRTPWKQzK2sPF2Dc6d-7RQR_NRm9MzOAEAZh1MksjcvLzBGFDOPwIRVo4jfpLkNgDv57VoXXg1QufJTdcg2AkwRuMA_21s8mJYDayiTvsZ9BPnszA/s1600/5434986314_22c0eaa3cb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTI5KgNt2t4kPhfkUHAe-Bq7o4dkQRTPWKQzK2sPF2Dc6d-7RQR_NRm9MzOAEAZh1MksjcvLzBGFDOPwIRVo4jfpLkNgDv57VoXXg1QufJTdcg2AkwRuMA_21s8mJYDayiTvsZ9BPnszA/s1600/5434986314_22c0eaa3cb.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plarchie and friend.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>As more yarnstormers arrive to swell the ranks of DK's woolly posse the knits become more complex and ambitious. In a tunnel beneath Waterloo station a knitted spider lurks in its knitted web, surrounded by struggling knitted captives. The rusty gates of the deserted Strand Station disgorge a host of knitted ghouls on Hallowe'en. Deep in the Natural History Museum strange woolly specimens appear; a knitted Slender Snipe Eel, some knitted squid, and a gigantic orange kraken knitted out of supermarket carrier bags, <i>Squidius knittius giganticus plasticus</i>, or <a href="http://plarchie.tumblr.com/">Plarchie</a> for short. <br />
<br />
A herd of hand-made sheep hurries along the handrail of London Bridge, and knitted cherubim with carefully-positioned felt fig-leaves hang around at Piccadilly Circus on Valentine's Day. In Parliament Square, a whole phone box gets the yarnstorm treatment.<br />
<br />
The yarnstormer's adventures are all retold here in a winning and whimsical style, with plenty of full-colour photographs. It's like a coffee table book for people with really small coffee tables, and would make an excellent present for anyone who likes knitting or graffitti, or knitting <i>and</i> graffitti, or public art that isn't all about Meaningful Stuff , or who just fancies a chuckle. At the back there are step-by step step guides to knitting your own squid and sheep, but if it's actual knitting patterns you're after you should probably also look at <i><b><a href="http://www.rucraft.co.uk/detail.php?productid=ST11838&catdesc=Stitch%20London">Stitch London</a></b></i>, by Deadly Knitshade's close friend and <i>confidante</i> Lauren O'Farrell, which is equally well-illustrated but heavier on the knit-on-purl-one stuff and will teach you how to knit traditional British bobbies, Big Ben, and Her Majesty The Queen, plus corgis. (Alan Titchmarsh liked it too, but don't let that put you off.)<br />
<br />
Knitting will never look the same again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Philip Reeve</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>Knit the City</b></i> is published by Summersdale and you can buy it <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Knit-City-Whodunnknit-Set-London/dp/184953179X/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1">HERE</a>. Go on. You know you want to.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">*</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I may not be recalling the lyrics with perfect accuracy, but I'm sure it was something along these lines.</span>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-10128774847394919832011-12-03T04:29:00.000-08:002011-12-03T13:07:16.417-08:00Cyber Circus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKE_tBCfjmmyljo_LMKweOOTXqQeNImpVXAWBARb3E2vTsVaZVMzoqRFITxj1Iax-86aVl9hiigCyi_qUDQ8x3u9On5tzCvx_eZzFFq-ja3H76x83qqt3aDLarFqsF4T_mcXmyhu0kgI/s1600/CyberCircus_BookCoverImage4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKE_tBCfjmmyljo_LMKweOOTXqQeNImpVXAWBARb3E2vTsVaZVMzoqRFITxj1Iax-86aVl9hiigCyi_qUDQ8x3u9On5tzCvx_eZzFFq-ja3H76x83qqt3aDLarFqsF4T_mcXmyhu0kgI/s320/CyberCircus_BookCoverImage4.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>I don't suppose I would ever have read Kim Lakin-Smith's <i><b>Cyber Circus</b></i> if I hadn't met its lovely author at <a href="http://philipreeve.blogspot.com/2011/10/bristolcon.html">BristolCon</a> this autumn, because I had seen it described here and there as 'Steampunk', and assumed it would be yet more alternate-Victoriana japes, of which I've read (and <a href="http://philipreeve.blogspot.com/2010/12/larklight-revisited.html">written</a>) enough. Actually it's something far richer and rarer.<br />
<br />
According to the subtitle at the start of Chapter One, <i><b>Cyber Circus</b></i> is set in 1937 in a place called Sore Earth. That date, and the fact that the Sore Earthers' agricultural boo-boos have reduced their topsoil to dust, suggests that the story evolved out of reflections on the Dustbowl (a suggestion confirmed by the earlier short story <i><b>Black Sunday</b></i>, reprinted at the back of this volume), while the book's vision of carnival life carries faint echoes of Tod Brownings <i><b>Freaks</b></i> and Daniel P Mannix's <i><b>Memoirs of a Sword Swallower</b></i>. But there any connection with our reality ends. This is not any 1937 we recognise, and Sore Earth isn't some parallel Oklahoma but a fully fledged fantasy world with its own loosely-sketched geography, history and fauna. Above it cruises 'Cyber Circus', a bizarre, bio-engineered, living dirigible carrying a strange crew of mutants and outcasts. The towns at which they stop to stage their shows have a whiff of the wild west about them - scabby mining outposts ruled by violent men and inhabited by the sort of people who'd have been kicked out of <i><b>Deadwood</b></i> for being too scruffy and sweary. Several different nations are mentioned, all unfamiliar. As far as I could tell, Sore Earth could be another planet, albeit one with retro fashion-sense. At times, with its cast of whores, misfits and former soldiers the thing it resembled most was a darker-hearted <i><b>Firefly</b></i>.<br />
<br />
Kim Lakin-Smith's prose is both stripped-down and florid, shot through with gnarly hard-boiled dialogue and vivid imagery. It takes a little getting used to, but it's well worth the effort. I admired the uncompromising freakishness of her freaks - the bioluminescent heroine and the hero with his cybernetic eye are quite ordinary compared to the pig man, the feral wolf girl and the scuttler children - and the empathy she makes us feel for them, strange and ugly as they might seem at first meeting. She has the courage, too, to make her characters unlikeable - spiky, ill-tempered, selfish, cowardly - and yet still sympathetic. The story moves fast and takes some curious twists and turns on its way to a dramatic final showdown.<br />
<br />
So<i> <b>Cyber Circus</b></i><b> </b>is definitely some kind of 'punk': violent, grungy, transgressive and bristling with attitude. Compared with it, most Steampunk that I've read needs to be reclassified as 'Steam-Easy-Listening' or Steam-Middle-of-the-Road'. But actually trying to pin down books like this to a particular sub-genre is just geeky stamp-collecting: Steampunk? Deiselpunk? New Weird? Who cares? There are only two kinds of Sci-Fi/Fantasy books: good and bad. <i><b>Cyber Circus</b></i> is one of the good ones.<br />
<br />
<b>Philip Reeve</b>.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Cyber Circus</b></i> is published by Newcon Press, price £9.99 pb, and is available from their <a href="http://newconpress.co.uk/books/cyber-circus/">website</a>. <br />
<br />
You can meet Kim Lakin-Smith (and me!) in person at the <a href="http://www.thekitschies.com/kitschies-steampunk.html">Kitschies 'Steampunk Christmas'</a> event on the 8th December at Blackwell's Bookshop, Charing Cross Road, London.Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-90592782430048150612011-11-29T09:10:00.000-08:002011-11-29T10:08:50.757-08:00Nelson<i><b>Nelson</b></i> is a new comics anthology from <a href="http://www.blankslatebooks.co.uk/2011/05/nelson/">Blank Slate Books</a>, in which 54 leading UK comics artists come together to tell one 250 page story, following a character called Nell Baker from her birth in 1968 to the present day. Each artist gets to write and draw one four page chapter, telling the events of a single day in a particular year, and gradually building up not only the story of Nell's life but a portrait of Britain over the last 43 years. The story is basically social realist, but the styles of artwork vary widely...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG4ZbWBNSmAwNTGqRScIOdJxABxLMc5OzdRGBSAMLo12gUUeTyd_DSJH6huHQWYel6eUD50s2Q0fFYwcIqOWt8aG-GMXalenRKK6nlBBPxqVVsj_3df8xiHRbxEbziGCOES3LVZ-bIJO0/s1600/Nelson-image-600pxw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG4ZbWBNSmAwNTGqRScIOdJxABxLMc5OzdRGBSAMLo12gUUeTyd_DSJH6huHQWYel6eUD50s2Q0fFYwcIqOWt8aG-GMXalenRKK6nlBBPxqVVsj_3df8xiHRbxEbziGCOES3LVZ-bIJO0/s1600/Nelson-image-600pxw.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Although the book is based on an original idea by <b><a href="http://www.blankslatebooks.co.uk/2011/09/nelson-previews-qs-rob-davis/">Rob Davies</a></b> (and co-edited by him and <b><a href="http://www.blankslatebooks.co.uk/2011/09/nelson-previews-qs-woodrow-phoenix/">Woodrow Phoenix</a></b>) the individual artists seem to have been pretty much responsible for the events described in each segment. This makes the tone very changeable, one minute funny, the next sad, sometimes just downright puzzling. Things that look as if they're going to be important plot elements in one chapter are ignored in the next, but may surface again ten or twenty years on. And this is A Good Thing, because it makes <i><b>Nelson</b></i> feel like a real life, packed with random moments, odd encounters and curious coincidences. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlh8ASUdLM9VYQRqTawbc1ImczKyYb90R4a4w8mGbQWE7Ud-b1X5iFn3gTULZBIrT87ngRlKOTC-glC61oPYGlope8Le7RKtfK4JdPyrjiUil2EqCE6knFCosB3nFkZq-c_iL3XBEg2k/s1600/Nelson-1968-Davis-page1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlh8ASUdLM9VYQRqTawbc1ImczKyYb90R4a4w8mGbQWE7Ud-b1X5iFn3gTULZBIrT87ngRlKOTC-glC61oPYGlope8Le7RKtfK4JdPyrjiUil2EqCE6knFCosB3nFkZq-c_iL3XBEg2k/s1600/Nelson-1968-Davis-page1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Rob Davies</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Inevitably, as with any anthology, there were some contributors whose work appealed to me more than others, but that's just a matter of personal taste. I really liked <b><a href="http://www.jonmcnaught.co.uk/">John McNaught's</a></b> almost wordless 3 pages, filling us in on what Nell's absent dad is up to in 1993, and also the way that <b><a href="http://www.simongane.blogspot.com/">Simon Gane</a></b>, in the 1992 chapter, picks up and runs with something that<a href="http://jabberworks.livejournal.com/442024.html"> <b>Sarah McIntyre </b></a>left hanging way back in 1973. <b><a href="http://www.garynorthfield.co.uk/">Gary Northfield</a></b> and <b><a href="http://www.blankslatebooks.co.uk/2011/10/nelson-previews-and-qs-jamie-smart/">Jamie Smart</a></b> bring a lovely sense of fun and anarchy to Nell's pre-school years.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9BeUpHo31LHMAHTALux91hn3Iw1cZBVEKW6U5Qw6i_Em_Wpv4aU27qUZGKlrldyViqZVAQuQTKDFML7ZjcTRdPl_TqksSQDMt0V-iustBTAiGY1eejHcKxboZS4pkV8mmsRHZITG6Tc/s1600/Jamie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9BeUpHo31LHMAHTALux91hn3Iw1cZBVEKW6U5Qw6i_Em_Wpv4aU27qUZGKlrldyViqZVAQuQTKDFML7ZjcTRdPl_TqksSQDMt0V-iustBTAiGY1eejHcKxboZS4pkV8mmsRHZITG6Tc/s1600/Jamie.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Jamie Smart</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The period detail is nicely handled: here and there historical events intrude into the story (the moon landing, the miners' strike of '84) but mostly it's the background details of clothes, cars, adverts etc which anchor each episode in its particular year. I'm only two years older than Nell, and the depictions of the '70s and '80s rang true to me. (Interestingly there's no mention of the Falklands War, nor of the Great Storm of 1987, which used to be a regular feature in stories about the '80s, standing for the collapse of Thatcherism and all sorts of Important Stuff.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlz3Eh8kC9d98KF3x2N4YuALLNcTWFS13uQmJxmaZuTcPvIitMLGbfbYIoo4ruV7gADgVqdHVlkiZhXy2D3Qzf0atXRb3YXa7QctKBTBRXjPNXhlTTLNkVuG4JHE-VbzTp9FaaxoxMe0/s1600/Nelson-1970-Ellen-Lindner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlz3Eh8kC9d98KF3x2N4YuALLNcTWFS13uQmJxmaZuTcPvIitMLGbfbYIoo4ruV7gADgVqdHVlkiZhXy2D3Qzf0atXRb3YXa7QctKBTBRXjPNXhlTTLNkVuG4JHE-VbzTp9FaaxoxMe0/s400/Nelson-1970-Ellen-Lindner.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blankslatebooks.co.uk/2011/09/nelson-previews-qs-ellen-lindner/">Ellen Lindner</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As the story moves towards the present day, however, the treatment of real events becomes less subtle and moments of historical importance start to barge their way into the foreground. (9/11! The London Tube Bombings! The Great Icelandic Volcano Sneeze!) I don't think that's a reflection on the people who wrote and drew the later chapters, but rather a sign of how difficult it is to write about the present and the recent past. The '70s and '80s are far enough away now that we can see what they were about, but it's sometimes hard to make out more recent years through the thickets of headlines.</div><div><br />
</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQTii_ELB4ar-tJCzISSNHMbRNWYE5cssoB5un4k9O9bv6vJ91VHW3zXBigf5vpxSSbq5dWNj3xt-FtE54Q8rJzAZFSL8auyKH1c7Z2F-7L4ROn3E2n5jsqgKNH8R0ruebiGS1kj3wX4/s1600/Nelson-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQTii_ELB4ar-tJCzISSNHMbRNWYE5cssoB5un4k9O9bv6vJ91VHW3zXBigf5vpxSSbq5dWNj3xt-FtE54Q8rJzAZFSL8auyKH1c7Z2F-7L4ROn3E2n5jsqgKNH8R0ruebiGS1kj3wX4/s1600/Nelson-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Simon Gane</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>There's also a slight tendency to miserablism in the later chapters. The young Nell is a comics fan (<a href="http://lukepearson.com/"><b>Luke Pearson's</b></a> chapter includes a lovely panel of her gazing at a rack filled with all the comics of my childhood, the <i>Dandy</i>, the <i>Beano</i>, The <i>Victor</i>, the <i>Beezer</i>, <i>Krazy, Battle</i>...) and as she comes of age and heads off to art college I started to think that we were seeing the coming-of-age story of a comics artist. But things don't work out for Nell; real life gets in the way, and her ambitions seem to fade away. It's odd that when you bring together 54 of this country's most talented and hard working artists, all of whom have succeeded in making a name for themselves in comics, they end up telling a story of artistic <i>failure</i>. It smacks of the bleak worldview that runs through a lot of British movies and high-end TV dramas , and I suspect it comes from a feeling that in order to be thought Serious a story needs to be A Bit Depressing.<br />
<br />
Not <i>too</i> depressing in this case, though, because the lively drawings and ever-changing styles are always a treat, and when one author takes the story in a glum direction there's usually another along shortly who'll have something funny or heartwarming happen instead. And some of the darker elements, like one character's descent into homelessness, are handled very well; sad and thought provoking without being mawkish or preachy. <br />
<br />
At the end <b>Rob Davies</b>, who penned the first chapter, takes over again to deliver a wry ending which doesn't trouble itself with the big events of 2011 but concentrates instead on the stuff that's really important; friendship; family; memory. It all adds up to a fantastic communal achievement, and deserves to be widely read.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSbeYWmzWFgPtn6qEur0n0Rs8amdBX5lXR_aQf5YEnDe-NjIVLtU0ntvdiPbT9sy3uHU9UVYq_TDc_qmdWe13cvKcpYzwWlTAF-znO_xzUJXRqWABh1oH2F5tyu5LDbv7StBSeU7WHqU/s1600/Nelson-cover-300pxw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSbeYWmzWFgPtn6qEur0n0Rs8amdBX5lXR_aQf5YEnDe-NjIVLtU0ntvdiPbT9sy3uHU9UVYq_TDc_qmdWe13cvKcpYzwWlTAF-znO_xzUJXRqWABh1oH2F5tyu5LDbv7StBSeU7WHqU/s1600/Nelson-cover-300pxw.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Nelson costs £18.99 (or £24.99 for the de-luxe hardback edition) and should be available wherever good comics are sold, or direct from <a href="http://blankslatebooks.bigcartel.com/">Blank Slate</a>. All profits go to Shelter, the Housing and Homelessness charity. (I should probably point out that it's not suitable for children.)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-53931794115473309752011-11-14T04:22:00.000-08:002011-11-14T08:08:20.715-08:00'The Recollection'<b>By Philip Reeve</b><br />
<br />
I loved Science Fiction when I was a teenager, and sometimes since I've gone looking for books that would recapture that Sense o' Wonder from the stories I read then. Having been away from the genre (at least in its written form) for the best part of thirty years, however, it's difficult to know where to start. I sometimes get the feeling that I fancy reading a good, old-fashioned, planet-hopping Space Opera, but when I look in the bookshops I'm confronted with books that are <i>a)</i> twice the length of <i>Anna Karenina</i>, <i>b)</i> episodes in on-going series, <i>c)</i> based on aspects of physics so arcane that I can't begin to understand them or <i>d)</i> all of the above. I tend to start such books with enthusiasm, then lose interest around a third of the way in and skip to the end (still, they're better than all the fat fantasy novels people have recommended to me recently; I don't even skip to the end of those, just abandon them half-read in hotel rooms).<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Anyway, you can imagine my cries of delight when I came home from <a href="http://philipreeve.blogspot.com/2011/10/bristolcon.html">BristolCon</a> with a copy of <i>The Recollection</i> by <a href="http://www.garethlpowell.com/">Gareth L Powell</a> and discovered that it's exactly the sort of book which got me reading SF in the first place. It has more planets, spaceships and mind-stretching Sci-Fi concepts than you could shake a stick at, it's a stand-alone story, and it's only 300 pages long.</div><div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd2Ps2KgC_yLCkB0w7QnVc_2B3lA0HGWMkFxNRW5owerGbUpfx7ylO5lDcfcXleNIdzbYQrz20U1_aS4SF0QLVz5Ztpgf3GIqrfU9O8vQsuvy3C6cqpiLdmJPTAh4Zky4Ddx60QNNhZ4/s1600/the_recollection_250x384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd2Ps2KgC_yLCkB0w7QnVc_2B3lA0HGWMkFxNRW5owerGbUpfx7ylO5lDcfcXleNIdzbYQrz20U1_aS4SF0QLVz5Ztpgf3GIqrfU9O8vQsuvy3C6cqpiLdmJPTAh4Zky4Ddx60QNNhZ4/s320/the_recollection_250x384.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
Unusually for a tale of galaxy-spanning space brouhaha, it begins in Bethnal Green, where down-on-his-luck artist and gambler Ed Rico is being threatened with violence by some of the people he owes money to. Within a few pages, however, strangeness intrudes into the story, in the form of mysterious arches which begin to appear all over the world. They are portals to who-knows-where, and Ed's brother Verne vanishes through one of them, conveniently situated on the down escalator at Holborn tube station.<br />
<br />
Following him through a series of such arches, Ed and his sister-in-law find themselves travelling across a series of alien worlds, eventually arriving in a future where humanity has spread across space using technology back-engineered from the arches themselves. His story interweaves with that of space pilot Kat Abdulov, whose rusty starship, the <i>Ameline</i>, has much in common with the <i>Millennium Falcon</i>, the <i>Serenity</i> and that one in M John Harrison's <i>The Centauri Device</i> whose name I forget.<br />
<br />
In fact, M John Harrison is the author I was most often reminded of while reading <i>The Recollection</i>. The way the story moves between modern London and far future space echoes Harrison's <i>Light</i>, Gareth L Powell's spaceports, like Harrison's, are dingy and litter-strewn, and like Mr Harrison, he has a way with names: Strauli Quay, the Bubble Belt, Vertebrae Beach... (There's also a chapter called <i>Ragged-Ass Drive Signature</i>, surely a prog-rock album waiting to happen.) But M John Harrison novels, while reliably brilliant, are intellectually dense and fill the reader with a draining sense of ennui (I was out of sorts for weeks after I finished <i>Nova Swing</i>). <i>The Recollection</i> is more upbeat, and although a terrible threat to the universe eventually arrives to link the two halves of the story, the book's overall feeling is one of optimism and well-crafted fun. <br />
<br />
On the whole I preferred the first half of the book to the second, but I don't really mean that as a criticism: I almost always prefer beginnings to endings. The final chapters reveal the characters' destinies and explain some of the book's mysteries, but I do hate destinies, and mysteries are much more fun than explanations. In the end, though, I was left wanting more, which is probably the best thing you can say about a story, and a nice change from all those fat novels I mentioned earlier, which left me wanting <i>less</i>. <i>The Recollection</i> leaves room for sequels, and if there is one I shall read it, but Mr Powell has already announced <a href="http://www.garethlpowell.com/book-deal-announcement-solaris-books/">his next novel</a> with Solaris, and it doesn't appear to be connected to this one. That's good, I think, and the sign of an author with ideas to spare. On the cover of <i>The Recollection</i> Paul Cornell predicts that 'Gareth Powell is going to be a major voice in SF'. I suspect he's right.<br />
<br />
<b><i>The Recollection</i> is published by <a href="http://www.solarisbooks.com/">Solaris Books</a>, and is available from all the usual places, including <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Recollection-Gareth-L-Powell/dp/1907519998/ref=as_li_wdgt_js_ex?&linkCode=wey&tag=garlpow-21">Amazon.co.uk</a> Or download it from the <a href="http://www.rebellionstore.com/products/the_recollection">Rebellion store</a>.</b>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-65304169794151490952011-09-16T10:20:00.000-07:002011-09-16T10:31:26.226-07:00Agatha Parrot and the Floating HeadThe <i>Bee</i> has had a long old summer break, mostly because I couldn't find anything much I wanted to write about. But I can't <i>not</i> review <b><i><a href="http://www.egmont.co.uk/product.asp?prodid=2614&catid=">Agatha Parrot and the Floating Head</a></i></b>, can I? It's the first in a new series by <a href="http://www.kjartan.co.uk/">Kjartan Poskitt</a> (although according to the title page it's actually by A. Parrot herself, and Poskitt has just 'typed it out neatly'.) <br />
<div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidX4py4J9-vYNmPoBkgUxTeGYr0y4HHGMdCLfUyHX-_xBTFYmAGcWzlgq51YxKjvRUUEtW6VjyVtfnjdOIlKVe2GjrdXqp0thL9kfyXoneubpNchqZzp8J3MAfGB8Avh58wcmKhgfuUJc/s1600/aghead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidX4py4J9-vYNmPoBkgUxTeGYr0y4HHGMdCLfUyHX-_xBTFYmAGcWzlgq51YxKjvRUUEtW6VjyVtfnjdOIlKVe2GjrdXqp0thL9kfyXoneubpNchqZzp8J3MAfGB8Avh58wcmKhgfuUJc/s400/aghead.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Naturally this isn't going to be a very objective review, since I've been working with Kjartan on his <b><i>Murderous Maths</i></b> and <b><i>Urgum the Axeman</i></b> books for years, and I think he's a genius. So if you want objectivity you'll have to beetle off to Amazon or somewhere and see what people are saying about it there - but oh, look - <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Agatha-Parrot-Floating-Head-Bk-1/dp/140525596X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1316192867&sr=8-1">they love it too!</a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Format-wise, <i><b>Agatha Parrot</b></i> is reminiscent of Andy Stanton's superb <i><b>Mr Gum</b></i> series: there's just a small chunk of text on each page (which makes it an appealing book for reluctant readers as well as everybody else.) There's another similarity to <b><i>Mr Gum</i></b>: both series are illustrated by <a href="http://www.synergyart.co.uk/david1.htm">David Tazzyman</a>, whose spindly, deceptively child-like drawings add greatly to the fun. Poskitt's humour is subtler than Andy Stanton's, though, and there's no magical malarkey involved; Agatha's adventures may be a tad unlikely, but they belong firmly in the Real World. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The story is simple and packed with good jokes, and I won't spoil it by going into details. It doesn't matter too much anyway, since what really makes the book special is Agatha's first-person narration; bubbly, excitable, packed with odd asides and dodgy grammar. I'm old enough to be reminded (in the best possible way) of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nigel_Molesworth">Ronald Searle and Geoffrey Willans's <i><b>Molesworth</b></i></a> books, but Poskitt is the father of four daughters and I'm sure Agatha's voice comes largely from his first-hand knowledge of the workings of small girls' minds. (<i>Woo! Go Poskitt! WE LOVE POSKITT!</i>)</div><div><br />
</div><div>Unusually, perhaps, this is a book about girls that boys will be happy to read as well. My son is nine and doesn't much like girls or books, but he whizzed through <i><b>Agatha Parrot</b></i>, enjoyed it thoroughly, and wants to know if there will be more.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm happy to say that there will: the next one is called <b><i>Agatha Parrot and the Mushroom Boy</i></b> and will be out in February 2012.</div><div><br />
</div><div><i>(Small round of applause for Poskitt clap clap all right don't overdo it.)</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjURK9_izgEkeOTymnOGCQ-sGzcIdiNmGjf6tdg07gAcUUnmbh-zesTmGYv6wa9_sIleCIYU88i0P4D4AQRrAg8-iHnMkCoXNa6xkwgbu-hwppaHlWkm2Upduqpr43MNsVL3J_tYdoOkZ0/s1600/edin11_kjartan_sarah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjURK9_izgEkeOTymnOGCQ-sGzcIdiNmGjf6tdg07gAcUUnmbh-zesTmGYv6wa9_sIleCIYU88i0P4D4AQRrAg8-iHnMkCoXNa6xkwgbu-hwppaHlWkm2Upduqpr43MNsVL3J_tYdoOkZ0/s400/edin11_kjartan_sarah.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Here's Kjartan Poskitt posing with Sarah McIntyre at the Edinburgh Festival. <br />
(He's the one on the left. ) Read more on Sarah's <a href="http://jabberworks.livejournal.com/421284.html"><b>BLOG</b></a>, <br />
which is where I swiped the photo from...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i><b>Agatha Parrot and the Floating Head is published by Egmont Books.</b></i></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div></div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-52838807324175809882011-07-20T09:37:00.000-07:002011-07-20T14:52:12.697-07:00A Conversation with Toby Frost<div style="font-family: Helvetica;"><div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ten Thousand Cheers for the Internet! Now when we find new authors whose books we enjoy, we needn't just sit patiently waiting for them to write the next one: oh no, we track them down on Facebook and bombard them with impertinent questions*. By way of example, <b>Philip Reeve</b> has been talking to <b>Toby Frost</b>, author of the <i><b>Space Captain Smith</b></i> series of sci-fi comedies.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Not that I mind if you want to </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_863210394"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">track </span></a><i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_863210394"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">me</span></a></i><a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Philip-Reeve/104518809593653"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> down on Facebook</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> - in fact, I encourage it. PR.. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSbt0GgF9F-A6Wh2Jne_fMZBEzph6Rg-gco9r0-d3nxxc7keRFIcvjZ4H7-3tLOxVaHg_DdlInIXp2-UCkehOF7YqL86PcKwhNafRYqsnq7B5blLy066_14JMpOsETsV8HF2DfXjBkA8/s1600/Toby_Frost_By_Craig_Shephea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSbt0GgF9F-A6Wh2Jne_fMZBEzph6Rg-gco9r0-d3nxxc7keRFIcvjZ4H7-3tLOxVaHg_DdlInIXp2-UCkehOF7YqL86PcKwhNafRYqsnq7B5blLy066_14JMpOsETsV8HF2DfXjBkA8/s320/Toby_Frost_By_Craig_Shephea.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><i><b>PR:</b> Since my own books are marketed to children, and half the people reading this may be school librarians, I ought to kick off by pointing out that the <b>Space Captain Smith </b>series aren't childrens books; they contain sex, drugs and rock'n'roll, and also a great many references and in-jokes which will probably whip straight over the heads of the Youth of Today. I noticed nods to dozens of influences I remember from my own teenage years, from <b>Blade Runner</b> and <b>Alien</b> to Kate Bush, Kenneth Williams and JG Ballard (and what a supergroup they would have made!) I think I even spotted a line from <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excalibur_(film)">Excalibur</a></b><a href="http://./">.</a> Can I take it that you did your growing up in the seventies and eighties too? </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><b>TF:</b> Yes, I was born in the late seventies, so that’s where a lot of the references come from. Good work spotting <i><b>Excalibur</b></i>, by the way. I love that film. </span></i><br />
<br />
<div><i><b>PR:</b> I think I owe my whole career to it: it led me to all the other versions of King Arthur, to Tennyson and Eliot, the Pre-Raphaelites, the symbolists - it's what I had instead of university! I saw it so many times when it was released that I think the whole screenplay is engraved line-for-line on my memory. Anyway, how did you come to write <b>Space Captain Smith</b></i><b><i>?</i></b></div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAPbn92LQGYRyfkCdOJgfDd7blnCRpDjeOYd6vDtypBzk78YAo-iJt0WMaOTDTuBp-XGpe0fhZX1EvvGEiEu-KeIPBfZDgNhg6v_WkobxSQoKtmWmqDa2HYx8ly2AxG-OkOAovWqRu4U/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAPbn92LQGYRyfkCdOJgfDd7blnCRpDjeOYd6vDtypBzk78YAo-iJt0WMaOTDTuBp-XGpe0fhZX1EvvGEiEu-KeIPBfZDgNhg6v_WkobxSQoKtmWmqDa2HYx8ly2AxG-OkOAovWqRu4U/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div><div><b>TF:</b> Smith wasn’t my first novel, but it’s the first I got published. It was actually a diversion I wrote while writing some longer stories (serious ones!) set in a fantasy world inspired by Leonardo’s drawings, a sort of clockwork Renaissance. One day I happened to be talking to a friend who was reading HG Wells. We got joking about the idea of Victorians conquering the moon and demanding gin from its baffled inhabitants, and it all went (downhill) from there. Smith slowly changed from a set of sketches to a full novel, and then I had this idea about tea... Finding a publisher is, unless you’re immensely lucky and writing about vampires, very difficult. I actually sent my manuscript to Myrmidon, my publishers, before I entered a competition in <i>The Telegraph</i> to send in the first 1000 words of a novel. I got to the last 50 entries, which helped my application to Myrmidon very much. Basically, anything you can point to that shows you know your stuff helps. How did you get published?</div><div><br />
</div><div><i><b>PR:</b> A similar process, I suppose. I tinkered around with various versions of Mortal Engines all through the 1990s, and sent it off to lots of literary agents who weren't remotely interested. Then I showed it to Scholastic, for whom I'd done some illustration work. One of their editors, Liz Cross, liked it, and encouraged me to re-write it as a children's novel. Were there any other writers who were particular influences on the development of your style?</i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><b>TF:</b> Whenever people ask me about my comedic influences I tend to mention George Orwell and Raymond Chandler. Perhaps not the best joke-tellers, but they both perfected the difficult trick of saying very intelligent things in an unaffected way that packs all the more weight for its simplicity (actually, now I think about it, their styles both get parodied in the novels, along with H P Lovecraft). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I’ve always liked comedy that can say stupid things cleverly, or be clever about stupid things, and I always think </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_58683846">Blackadder</a></b></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackadder"> </a>is a great example of that. There’s one episode where they’re being pursued by a mad bishop who wields a red-hot poker, and suddenly Percy starts to quote <b><i>Richard II</i></b> by Shakespeare. Then </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Blackadder</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> childishly insults him and makes a joke about poo. Great stuff!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i><b>PR:</b> Personally, I have a slight aversion to double entendres and blue jokes. I think it goes back to my early teens when the only TV in the house was in the living room and I had to endure the awful frosty disapproval of my mum if I was watching <b>Not The Nine O'Clock News</b> or <b>Kenny Everett </b>and they got a bit risqué. I'm sensing you have no such qualms?<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><b>TF: </b>As far as jokes are concerned I’ve cut about two out of my drafts for being too vulgar and tasteless (and a fair few more for being too rubbish). I didn’t consider child-friendliness when I wrote the novels: I always saw them as 12+ in terms of cinema ratings, and probably 13-15 or so reading-age wise. But it depends how you define bad taste: vulgarity of the farts-and-burping sort doesn’t both me too much, where as mocking the afflicted is cheap. For all their crassness, cowardice, promiscuity and homicidal mania, the main characters are a pretty decent bunch. When it comes down to it, they’re alright. Even Carveth isn’t really cowardly – she’s just sane. Not that I’d hold them up as role models as such...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i><b>PR: </b> Most 'Steampunk' books which deal with the British Empire seem to do so in order to denounce it, but your books seem more Ealing Comedy than Steampunk, and your future British Space Empire is basically benign, championing freedom and the common man against totalitarian foes. It's also full of odd little affectionate details of British life like Airfix kits and branches of Debenhams. Do you hanker for a return to decency, tea-drinking and stiff upper lips? </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHueDlyvVuZI6guPFHW8JzV8kTWeZM5OtFkSmojemyKrsG6iFe2L8H0jrqwZE6-IMYzGoRcvV6IqY3lyR2jmIQIlvzu2tvddbFG3sCJwmT96k737jyABJOO0AoZrY6_U7SdpZwFiRwSxY/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHueDlyvVuZI6guPFHW8JzV8kTWeZM5OtFkSmojemyKrsG6iFe2L8H0jrqwZE6-IMYzGoRcvV6IqY3lyR2jmIQIlvzu2tvddbFG3sCJwmT96k737jyABJOO0AoZrY6_U7SdpZwFiRwSxY/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"></span><i><br />
</i><b>TF:</b> As regards the (First!) British Empire, and its portrayal, I agree that it inevitably casts a long shadow. I really had a choice as to whether to make the Imperialists evil and callous or just a bit silly, and I felt that the former had been done to death and would make the books too sour to be the jolly, Biggles-style adventures that they are. Also I think it’s more interesting to talk about imperialists who sincerely believe they are doing good: that attitude permeates the space empire, even down to the fact that Smith’s huge revolver is called a Civiliser. That to me is far more interesting than a simple “Empires are evil” statement – and has more potential for comedy. Of course, it helps that the Ghasts and Yull are infinitely worse than the people they want to replace. Pretty much anything is better than being ruled by (ie murdered by) Number 1 or the Greater Galactic Happiness and Friendship Collective. And anyway, you can’t really rule people like Suruk with a rod of iron. They’d just take it off you and bash you with it.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9hxYmfu_Pa6e1RZEkS_AHm7g1ejION2dyZz1VLZ39mSvVjF6sRKkETnenw0Zw6TVeUdY8YNam0LQKtMW35gVoedSN-a13UmvlFjA-JG2u9yfDlyhlKNtMgojhd7wUXjGbd0lJCHZu8Q/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9hxYmfu_Pa6e1RZEkS_AHm7g1ejION2dyZz1VLZ39mSvVjF6sRKkETnenw0Zw6TVeUdY8YNam0LQKtMW35gVoedSN-a13UmvlFjA-JG2u9yfDlyhlKNtMgojhd7wUXjGbd0lJCHZu8Q/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></a>Do I hanker for a return for tea, decency and stiff upper lips? Yes, although not a literal return with everything that entails . Although the past has always been worse than the present for almost everyone, it’s hard not to feel that something hasn’t been lost along the way – an idea of how we ought to be more than something we actually were. Sometimes I wonder if we don’t indulge ourselves too much in public, or that we put up with too much nonsense from people who like sounding off (unlike this particular rant. I’m much less of a reactionary than I probably sound). Anyway, I think there is something quite distinct about being British, a positive set of values beyond just a rather woolly sense of tolerance. I’ve certainly heard steampunks talk about trying to reclaim those values, chief among them politeness. Good on them!</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div>I think one of the main problems with steampunk is that it can actually be difficult to find new things to say. If you’re not careful, you can end up shuffling a very small pack of cards until it all feels a bit like Cluedo: this time round it’s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Babbage">Charles Babbage</a> versus Captain Nemo, and on the next shuffle, Holmes and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grace_Darling">Grace Darling </a>will be fighting the Martians (both of which I’d happily read. Especially the latter). I like steampunk very much, but I think it needs to be approached carefully to avoid being defined out of existence. It’s actually one of the things I like most about <i>Mortal Engines</i>: although the setting is totally original, that crucial steampunk sense of home-made, one-off technology is still there.</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBoWw7wkswbas-Pug9OBycMv4y5IyyJ6Xu8AL6WWIM0pep9OMVmEfixGiKkIBFTHVZnPuvzRjVnHS4Gv6e1PQnKoOlQUNmtmTPQ2ZNkYtFMTUHWQCELKw2euouus__bniKoHdqqxrC-E/s1600/gracedarling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBoWw7wkswbas-Pug9OBycMv4y5IyyJ6Xu8AL6WWIM0pep9OMVmEfixGiKkIBFTHVZnPuvzRjVnHS4Gv6e1PQnKoOlQUNmtmTPQ2ZNkYtFMTUHWQCELKw2euouus__bniKoHdqqxrC-E/s200/gracedarling.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><b><i>PR:</i></b><i> Ooh, I'd definitely read the Grace Darling one: I had quite a major crush on her when I was about seven ( they did her life story on <b>Blue Peter</b><span class="Apple-style-span">)</span>. And I know exactly what you mean about Steampunk - although actually it seems to have become such a vague term that I don't really think it means much any more. I was relieved at how un-steampunk Smith is. I also thought the characters were unusually well-rounded for a comic novel. Where did Smith, Carveth, and Suruk the Slayer spring from?</i></div><div><div><br />
</div><b>TF:</b> I always wanted the Smith books to be properly worked-out: that the world, however bizarre, would have its own logic and wouldn’t be just slapstick. While I like all the jokes, of course, I also intended the stories to stand as novels in their own right. I think that’s why I tried to make the characters rounded, and also why there is actual death. I also think it gives the stories a bit more weight. The main characters are in part parodies of stereotypes (explorer, noble warrior etc) and are foils for one another, but I always wanted them to be more developed than that. Sending them on adventures with each other makes them round each other out, too. Strange as it sounds, given that he’s a headhunting, war-obsessed alien monster, I wanted Suruk’s homecoming in Didcot to be a little poignant as well as absurd. In a funny way you find you owe it to your characters. (Please tell me I’m not alone in this!)</div><div><br />
</div><div><i><b>PR:</b> I don't think you are! Suruk is an utterly likeable character, despite the whole head-hunting alien monster thing. And I found the friendship between him and Smith (and him and Carveth, in a way) to be oddly touching. I think that's what makes the books, for me, ultimately more satisfying than things like <b>Blackadder</b>, where all the characters are basically villains or idiots. They are also war stories, and despite all the comedy there is a very convincing sense of danger in the combat scenes - Carveth's fear at going into battle is very well portrayed. Do you have a 'serious' adventure story waiting to be written?</i><br />
<div><br />
</div><b>TF: </b>I do have a serious novel: it’s an almost complete redraft of the clockwork Renaissance story, and I’m very proud of it. Basically, it’s a revenge drama about a woman returning to a city to kill a gangster who left her for dead. However, the gangster is now a wealthy merchant, and things become more complicated as, in her quest for revenge, the heroine is drawn into the efforts of various feuding nobles to seize the throne and ends up almost as a power in her own right. I loved writing it, but it’s proved hard to find a publisher as yet. It’s got the makings of a trilogy, but I’ll clear the first hurdle of getting the first story published before anything like that!<br />
<br />
<b><i>PR:</i></b><i> Good luck, and thanks very much for doing this interview!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>You can find more about Toby and his books at </b></i><a href="http://www.spacecaptainsmith.com./"><i><b>www.spacecaptainsmith.com.</b></i></a></div><div><br />
</div></div></div></div></div></div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-61576359665099895212011-06-05T03:56:00.000-07:002011-06-05T14:54:12.138-07:00Space Captain Smith<b>By Toby Frost</b><br />
Reviewed by <b>Philip Reeve</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnvQ9XgdlVZi18_y-1JoQlqVmGrn4MqrZ0WPK0ONdAfs-5K6t9rMlyE3Cc_hOPxJvsg08_WlIkTLL5iE8vTkxS0oGCJ8pLgTDqrLW1bpbDIHaUcjWRRhh006jUXwy81CmsT_iSBScsdA/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnvQ9XgdlVZi18_y-1JoQlqVmGrn4MqrZ0WPK0ONdAfs-5K6t9rMlyE3Cc_hOPxJvsg08_WlIkTLL5iE8vTkxS0oGCJ8pLgTDqrLW1bpbDIHaUcjWRRhh006jUXwy81CmsT_iSBScsdA/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Most of the books which the <i>Bee </i>has recommended recently have been aimed at children, so please note that Toby Frost's <i>Space Captain Smith</i> <u>isn't</u>, containing as it does industrial quantities of smut and innuendo.<br />
<br />
<i>Space Captain Smith </i>is set in the 25th Century in a region of space dominated by the 'Great Powers' of Earth, including a revived British Empire keen to export cricket, tea and fair play to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. This suggests that the book will be wedged firmly in the 'Steampunk' cul-de-sac, an impression which is strengthened by Angelo Rinaldi's splendid cover artwork, itself a spoof of the current UK covers for George MacDonald Fraser's <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flashman">Flashman</a></i> series . <br />
<br />
In fact I was surprised by how <i>un</i>-Steampunk <i>Space Captain Smith</i> is: it's true that Smith wears a red tunic, carries a service revolver and prides himself on his well-waxed moustache, but the cultural references are mostly contemporary (his ship's android pilot rather worryingly consults a Haynes manual before take-off) and Smith's muddleheaded but basically decent form of Englishness seems more 1950s than Nineteenth Century. The technology is purest sci-fi, with no actual steam involved, although Smith's ship suffers from a bent cam-shaft at one point. The story is also dotted with parodies of movies like <i>Blade Runner, The Matrix</i> and <i>A Clockwork Orange</i>, further diluting the Steampunk aesthetic. (This is a Good Thing: I like my Steampunk diluted to almost homeopathic levels these days.)<br />
<br />
The plot is brisk and workmanlike: Isambard Smith (who isn't a Flashman-style cad at all, but a rather dim, well-meaning, upper class twit) is sent to fetch a woman named Rhianna Mitchell from the hippy-ish space habitat of New Francisco, which is under threat from the fascist ant-men of the Ghast Empire. His ramshackle spacecraft the <i>John Pym </i>is piloted by runaway android Polly Carveth, and also along for the ride is Smith's old friend Suruk the Slayer, a Predator-like alien warrior obsessed with collecting skulls and much given to saying things like, "Moons have passed since last we met, battles fought and enemies fallen. At the bridge of Anrag I took fifteen heads..." How he became Smith's friend is never explained, but it's lucky for us that he did, since his cheerful psychopathy makes him the book's most memorable character, and the source of many of its best jokes.<br />
<br />
The three central characters are all likeable and well-drawn, so it doesn't matter that everyone else is basically a charicature. The planets which our heroes visit all seem to have been terraformed according to national stereotype; there's a gloomy post-Russian world full of rotting concrete tower blocks, and a Dixieland bayou planet ruled by 'The Republic of Eden', which basically represents all the things Brits hate about the U.S - religious fundamentalism, gung-ho military types and fat people in pastel leisure suits. (There is a rival 'United Free States of America' which remains off-stage in this book - presumably they stand for Rock'n'Roll, <i>Seinfeld</i> and HBO dramas.) New Francisco is full of health food shops and meditation groups, while British-ruled planets tend to have names like Didcot and New Dorchester. There's also a planet of cyberpunks who dress like characters from <i>The Matrix</i> (one lady is described as 'wearing tight shiny things, as if hit by bin-liners in a wind-tunnel') and a rainy world modelled on <i>Blade Runner</i> ("Go to a <i>Different</i> Off-World Colony!" suggests the advertising blimp drifting over the mean streets). <br />
<br />
These brief movie parodies are all jolly enough in a <i>Mad Magazine</i> way, but I found them a bit obvious; Toby Frost's own world was more interesting, and I wanted to get back to it. I far preferred the subtler references ("Aliens could look like anything," says a character who has obviously watched <i>Star Trek</i>, "They might look just like us except for some extra bits on their heads...")<br />
<br />
I was also a bit put off by the almost ceaseless innuendo. I know that the <i>double entendre</i> is part of a long tradition in British comedy, from Max Miller and saucy seaside postcards through the <i>Carry On</i> films and TV shows like '<i>Allo 'Allo,</i> but, let's be honest, all those things were <u>rubbish</u>. Sexual innuendo was only ever funny because it had a shock value in a society where sex itself could not be mentioned. We no longer live in such a society, so lines about 'being taken up the bayou' etc. etc. are just a lazy substitute for humour; the empty husks of gags our grandparents might have sniggered at. There are times when <i>Space Captain Smith</i> swerves dangerously close to becoming a sort of <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Carry On Stainless Steel Rat.</span></i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Humour is always a hit-and-miss affair, however, and Toby Frost's jokes work far more often than they fail. He's often very funny, and, more importantly, he can <i>write</i>. His book is at its best when it stops frantically referencing other things and is just itself: the action scenes in particular are surprisingly gripping and well handled, and the universe he has created, for all its deliberate silliness, has a certain hand-made logic of its own.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdV4s5ZbJZky8ro3HYthpmrQc_Q5bbogDkABIrPWYtIOqH0gMZMwoXruIxGvJH6mIRAmkG16F389EhcVnvnOHfdQ-OgW_vhyphenhyphenzjfSSAu-v6Cdee5MLRPONZoyo_gu53o0yEU2JeiTuUdw/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdV4s5ZbJZky8ro3HYthpmrQc_Q5bbogDkABIrPWYtIOqH0gMZMwoXruIxGvJH6mIRAmkG16F389EhcVnvnOHfdQ-OgW_vhyphenhyphenzjfSSAu-v6Cdee5MLRPONZoyo_gu53o0yEU2JeiTuUdw/s200/DownloadedFile.jpeg" width="200" /></a><i>Space Captain Smith</i> probably won't change your life, but it's not meant to. It delivers some good gags wrapped up in a story that will keep you turning the pages, and it might brighten up a wet weekend, or while away a train journey: I'm always pleased to find a book that does that. There are already two sequels, <i>God Emperor of Didcot</i> and <i>Wrath of the Lemming Men</i>, and I shall be ordering both of them as soon as I've posted this. Three cheers for the British Space Empire!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMjG-5qpas2iXCCOrHzIA45Yq8r3c4zGgKQYsKdwTbWeG20WaUtn_U66kai3LnnidcQ8J25XytKWA_LuiPFcBHmiKZcOsd-kOmuKwcnawZeqNVlcqr52unLJCe5YhB2GW1mO27lkzugs/s1600/n292688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMjG-5qpas2iXCCOrHzIA45Yq8r3c4zGgKQYsKdwTbWeG20WaUtn_U66kai3LnnidcQ8J25XytKWA_LuiPFcBHmiKZcOsd-kOmuKwcnawZeqNVlcqr52unLJCe5YhB2GW1mO27lkzugs/s200/n292688.jpg" width="130" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Toby Frost's <b>Space Captain Smith</b> website, including some downloadable short stories, is </i><b><a href="http://spacecaptainsmith.com/"><i>here</i></a></b><i>.</i>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-52502859716951958492011-05-29T10:38:00.000-07:002011-05-30T02:19:53.426-07:00Cowboy JessReviewed by <b>Philip Reeve</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVLMb9HuJlJBAC3iZK_niHqtFJf3kMhiuTp4cFpb6gB1idmAefEvk63btCDyGWBWX5_zW0VZlcpbC7YGCO_ywlj431T2UL8XLtBJ_Igc8px1d7Rxiq1AJAIc0O93SCd9xjO-3LSeO_fw/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVLMb9HuJlJBAC3iZK_niHqtFJf3kMhiuTp4cFpb6gB1idmAefEvk63btCDyGWBWX5_zW0VZlcpbC7YGCO_ywlj431T2UL8XLtBJ_Igc8px1d7Rxiq1AJAIc0O93SCd9xjO-3LSeO_fw/s320/images-1.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I have to declare an interest here: <i>Cowboy Jess</i> is dedicated to my son Sam, and Geraldine McCaughrean is one of my all-time favourite authors (I doubt that I would have ever got around to writing my own novels at all if I hadn't read <i>Fire's Astonishment </i>and <i>Vainglory</i>). <br />
<br />
She is best known for her magnificent children's novels, which include <i>The White Darkness, A Little Lower Than The Angels, Plundering paradise, Stop The Train</i> and, most recently, <i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_860363034">Pull Out All The Stops</a></i><a href="http://the-solitary-bee.blogspot.com/2010/12/pull-out-all-stops.html">,</a> and she also finds time to operate a secondary career as a re-teller of myths, legends and literary classics. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4cuNQ9-Z91gNGXWPunqWEzsWokL_F9Qsjq_k-wst5LBGvsSKF6JoPqN3KD42h2K8bBUWC542kTZqCnsyHqzlFhmYhjOM7fAfm2kTevirH5Ktk89Z2qlOQAKifsfYSR4sZb3vcaD0MKk/s1600/51ZoWiVfBAL._BO2%252C204%252C203%252C200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click%252CTopRight%252C35%252C-76_AA300_SH20_OU02_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4cuNQ9-Z91gNGXWPunqWEzsWokL_F9Qsjq_k-wst5LBGvsSKF6JoPqN3KD42h2K8bBUWC542kTZqCnsyHqzlFhmYhjOM7fAfm2kTevirH5Ktk89Z2qlOQAKifsfYSR4sZb3vcaD0MKk/s320/51ZoWiVfBAL._BO2%252C204%252C203%252C200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click%252CTopRight%252C35%252C-76_AA300_SH20_OU02_.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<i>Cowboy Jess</i> and its sequel, <i>Cowboy Jess Saddles Up</i>, fit neatly between these two strands. Short books, aimed at a slightly younger age-group than the full length novels, and packed with what the children's book world calls 'boy appeal', they revisit the American west of <i>Stop The Train</i> in stories of almost mythic simplicity. The Wild West backdrop is sketched in convincingly, and the landscapes are wonderful, but historical accuracy isn't an issue here: this is the legendary West of John Ford movies and schoolyard games of cowboys and injuns: Cowboy Jess himself might as well be Theseus, or King Arthur. He is discovered on page one as a baby, curled up asleep in a coonskin hat between the wheel tracks where a wagon train has passed. His upbringing by the kindly folks of a newly-founded frontier town is dealt with briskly in the first few pages, and pretty soon he's old enough to sign on as a cowboy at the local ranch. The problems which face him are quickly overcome by bravery, good nature and quick thinking, and in the course of the first book he captures a horse thief, saves the stage-coach from bandits and befriends a Lakota girl, Sweet Rain. <br />
<br />
He also acquires a magnificent black horse named Destiny, who reminded me slightly of the old <i>Champion, the Wonder Horse</i> TV shows, which were still being repeated on Saturday mornings when I was Sam's age. I can't remember much about them now except for the theme tune ("<i>Champierrrnnnnnnnnn, the Wonder Horse...</i>") and the fact that the excitement promised by the title sequence (all indians, stage-coaches and galloping horses) was never really delivered by the show itself. The <i>Cowboy Jess</i> books avoid this pitfall with carefree ease; they are <i>all</i> indians, stagecoaches and galloping horses. For older readers they may not have the same depth or scope of Geraldine McCaughrean's longer books, (and clearly aren't meant to) but they are still well worth reading, if only so that we can marvel at her nimble storytelling and the brilliance of her language (at one point, when dawn breaks after a night on the range, she describes a band of light appearing along the horizon 'as if the sky was lifting its hat to a lady'). For boys and girls who love adventure they are just about perfect. Order them now and encourage a bit of half term/summer holiday reading.<br />
<br />
<i>Cowboy Jess and Cowboy Jess saddles Up are both published by Orion, RRP £4.99</i>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-53862138910146403592011-05-28T04:46:00.000-07:002011-05-30T08:12:06.213-07:00Big Daddy vs Giant Haystacks<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Review by Philip Reeve.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYD7sjSqApjBGZCmyqxJwthMwh3cRgUHf8tdohsPskfVEZaV2L-4BysTfMvigKnD3DMYQdUZAqzutBO1Hs8vQ2bqj9-adcy5CJPPx78jce2YqNnJKlRbMoa0VkoLkRU76JAmOjf1oLs5k/s1600/Bdaddy-HayStack+A3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYD7sjSqApjBGZCmyqxJwthMwh3cRgUHf8tdohsPskfVEZaV2L-4BysTfMvigKnD3DMYQdUZAqzutBO1Hs8vQ2bqj9-adcy5CJPPx78jce2YqNnJKlRbMoa0VkoLkRU76JAmOjf1oLs5k/s400/Bdaddy-HayStack+A3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Last year I reviewed <i><a href="http://philipreeve.blogspot.com/2010/05/those-magnificent-men.html">Those Magnificent Men</a>,</i> Brian Mitchell and Joseph Nixon's brilliant little play about Alcock and Brown, which used the story of those pioneer aviators to explore history, the nature of fame, and the recent trend for using real-life figures as the basis for plays which explore history and the nature of fame. Their latest work, <i>Big Daddy vs Giant Haystacks</i>, which premiered on Wednesday night as part of the Brighton Festival, takes a similar approach. With two small chairs and two large actors, it recreates the period from 1972 to 1988 when British Saturday afternoon TV schedules were dominated by scenes like this...<br />
<br />
<object height="349" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9sDBd6-SGo4?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9sDBd6-SGo4?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="349" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br />
<br />
In some ways <i>Big Daddy...</i> is even more ambitious that its predecessor. Actors Ross Gurney-Randall and David Mounfield don't just portray Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks, but an immense supporting cast of lesser wrestlers, managers, and TV executives; there are even walk-on parts for Paul McCartney, Frank Sinatra and Princess Margaret. This constant switching from one role to another, one accent to the next, must be hard work for the actors, and would be hard work for the audience too if the writing were not so accomplished. As it is, the characters are always careful to remind us who they are, to keep up to speed on what they're doing and what's happening in the wider world of wrestling at each particular moment. It's all as funny as we've come to expect from Mitchell and Nixon, but it's never <i>just</i> funny: they have a deep sympathy for the people they write about. Ross Gurney Randall's Big Daddy is particularly impressive; reluctant at first, then half believing his own publicity; his unease at having to visit the bedsides of dying children as part of his brother's publicity schemes, and his grief and guilt about the death of an opponent, are exceptionally well-drawn; he's almost a tragic figure (albeit a 26 stone tragic figure in a spangly leotard).<br />
<br />
Our narrator for much of the evening, and the ring-master who holds all the disparate strands together, is Max Crabtree, Big Daddy's brother and manager. He's played winningly by David Mounfield as a cheapskate north-country Machiavelli who dreams of "owning the whole of wrestling". "I'll be your Virgil in this Dante's Inferno," he tells us as the show begins, and goes on to set the tone for much of what follows; "That's not the kind of reference I'd make in real life, but this is a play and I'm a sort of semi-fictional character, so I think we can get away with it..." <br />
<br />
Stingy, scheming and manipulative, Crabtree could be easily be the play's villain, but he's too well-drawn, too fully rounded to be just a heel. That role is reserved for Greg Dyke, best known nowadays as a dodgy Director General of the BBC, but who cut his teeth on London Weekend Television's <i>World of Sport</i> programme, and was responsible for taking wrestling off TV. Portrayed by Ross Gurney-Randall as a venomous cockney psychopath, he embodies one of the show's themes; the shift of power from the north in the 1970s to the London 'barrow boys' who dominated the 1980s. The tussles between Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks are the visual and comic highlights of the piece, but the real battle comes in the scene where Dyke and Max Crabtree confront one another; a high-stakes bout with the future of wrestling as the prize.<br />
<br />
We know who won in the end, of course. The London elite who run British TV didn't like wrestling and didn't want to show it, and without TV it withered. It's not something you hear much about these days. Nostalgic TV shows and newspaper articles are forever exhuming the pop-culture detritus of the 1970s, but they tend to focus on things which middle-class North Londoners approve of, not these embarrassing pantomime gladiators whose fanbase was always in the provinces. As well as giving us a laugh, this well-researched play is drawing attention to an odd little corner of our culture that has been not so much forgotten as deliberately suppressed.<br />
<br />
That said, the eagerness with which the Brighton Festival audience joined in Big Daddy's signature chant of, "Easy! Easy!" suggests that fond memories of wrestling survive even among hip urban types in the south east. When it tours the north, Giant Haystack's final soliloquy, in which he predicts that 'Wrestling will be back!" is going to bring the house down.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcDd7X3_464tFqUUlmPQpFHxkcoqqaCPKGmnE-78Y5uxuv6i0gVPsFpRSgSqgNqyeyNBg8GuEGCulm_1dhzli2m512aehCFslWMV71AMkHlORlS8PdXQp2qiZdLaLfkco-t-RcnBQVnU/s1600/5-Stars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcDd7X3_464tFqUUlmPQpFHxkcoqqaCPKGmnE-78Y5uxuv6i0gVPsFpRSgSqgNqyeyNBg8GuEGCulm_1dhzli2m512aehCFslWMV71AMkHlORlS8PdXQp2qiZdLaLfkco-t-RcnBQVnU/s1600/5-Stars.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<i>A tour of </i><b>Big Daddy versus Giant Haystacks</b><i> is planned for later in the year, and I shall post details both here and on my own blog when the dates are confirmed.</i>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-54948376972370804932011-04-29T05:29:00.000-07:002011-04-29T05:29:42.616-07:00One is now Hitched...<div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bee's</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Royal Correspondent, Andrew Gorton.</span></span></b></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAVEMGxPethHlsobz3Vy44lvEhCOJQ0r-llJ2pt9V33EIDHL9xQWMxfKUwz_xKc5lMCdYI_-PHP4Ik9XotLrq9sNfPBQFbGZIMklRBEnZ9YDghblXzfhO2l2lcG3-Xw-baq_MmGGXuyU/s1600/katem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAVEMGxPethHlsobz3Vy44lvEhCOJQ0r-llJ2pt9V33EIDHL9xQWMxfKUwz_xKc5lMCdYI_-PHP4Ik9XotLrq9sNfPBQFbGZIMklRBEnZ9YDghblXzfhO2l2lcG3-Xw-baq_MmGGXuyU/s1600/katem.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Are you following the Royal Wedding today?” I asked the Scottish manager of my Norfolk village shop when I popped in on the day of the event. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why should I celebrate a family that raped and pillaged my family and forced them out of their country?” he replied, less than half-jokingly. “I've spoken with family in the Highlands, and their kids are not having a day off school there.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This has probably been the only passionate, albeit negative, reaction to the Royal Wedding I have encountered so far. The prevailing attitude has seemed to be one of sublime indifference. (When I expressed my own less-than-lukewarm attitude on Facebook, it got several 'Likes.') Everybody is glad for the day off, but that appears to be the extent of their enthusiasm. On the other hand, I hope Wills and Kate have better fortune in married life than Diana had. I think some lessons from that marriage have been well marked for this one. Hopefully there will be no conspiracy theories surrounding this marriage, now or in the future. I'm fairly certain that Charlie is not planning to bump off his new daughter-in-law at some point in the next few years. Personally, I'm surprised there isn't a theory that says Diana and Dodi faked their own deaths and are living anonymously in South America with Shergar and Lord Lucan, or something. I am half-tempted to try and circulate that one, to see how many people buy it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Across the pond, the Americans seem far more fascinated and enthused by the Royal Family than us Brits. (Certainly many of them seem to believe the “Diana was murdered” theory.) Considering that their nation was born as a result of successful revolution against the British Monarchy, it seems rather an odd attitude to have, exactly the opposite side of the coin to my Scottish acquaintance. Maybe it is the fact that the Scots failed in their uprising where the Americans succeeded that explains the difference? I'm not sure. Certainly the Scottish clans suffered more at the hands of the English kings than the American colonists.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In my opinion, the modern Royal Family are just another aspect of celebrity culture, but with more pomp and tradition. I am inclined to view this wedding as no different, really, than any other celebrity wedding, although with slightly more gravitas. There are certainly the screaming crowds and an overemphasis on what everybody is wearing, and inane waffle from news commentators. To be fair on the other hand, none of the Royals, with the possible exception of Kate, sought nor possibly desire their status in the public eye. I could sympathise with Prince Harry when he was pulled from front-line duty in Afghanistan. It must be frustrating not being able to do the job you wanted to to, and had undergone rigorous training for, just because of who your parents are. Also, watching films like <i>The Kings Speech</i> does humanise them for me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Watching bits of the event today on the telly, I am sure it was not always like this for the royals. I have a picture in my head of the Saxons marching off to fight the Battle of Hastings to hysterical public adulation, with vapid commentary on Armour by Ralph de Lauren, and speculation on whether Harold is going bald under his Jeffrey of Portman Helmet. Then, a few days later, tabloid hysteria of this new bloke, William the Conqueror's questionable taste in interior decoration or something. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is possible history may go full circle and the Royals will become more than just figureheads, but it is unlikely. I am sometimes prone to the cynical belief that this is pretty much a Bread-and -Circuses event, but in the end, I am sure it is a harmless and much needed diversion from an otherwise grim couple of years. </span></span></div><div><br />
</div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-33548911462854868522011-04-22T10:49:00.000-07:002011-04-22T10:49:58.673-07:00A Conversation with Mark Robson<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUUhpDMefidkqtnAIQaDWQ8kAKscxu6rNKd5CAImzCMnFCOxt3n4meBuPDGLf2g-z6Qi-7DjgYmIK-P_EI_mrj_x26WsAah0YueHKhXSDhmll9tihpFxR3aKzAuFyHpzfuCf8jiwOVis/s1600/imperial-assassin-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUUhpDMefidkqtnAIQaDWQ8kAKscxu6rNKd5CAImzCMnFCOxt3n4meBuPDGLf2g-z6Qi-7DjgYmIK-P_EI_mrj_x26WsAah0YueHKhXSDhmll9tihpFxR3aKzAuFyHpzfuCf8jiwOVis/s200/imperial-assassin-2.jpg" width="130" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwLDRJ12AGROm_q6X_4vGK0lXN5DIi4IWhDPAbwEJ_iValt8kdVCU9ehYrPHpdkmj-Ej-RSjdX_OyMTMRzTrS2XZWrdotyWHmbhz9i2XGMbjocR31HNSPaSIS23RrCYK7FA2VsPhqKYg/s1600/aurora-medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwLDRJ12AGROm_q6X_4vGK0lXN5DIi4IWhDPAbwEJ_iValt8kdVCU9ehYrPHpdkmj-Ej-RSjdX_OyMTMRzTrS2XZWrdotyWHmbhz9i2XGMbjocR31HNSPaSIS23RrCYK7FA2VsPhqKYg/s200/aurora-medium.jpg" width="130" /></a><b></b><br />
<b><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">If you've attended a UK secondary school during the past ten years there's a high likelihood that you've met <a href="http://www.markrobsonauthor.com/">Mark Robson</a>, author of rip-roaring fantasy adventures and a tireless and inspiring teacher and speaker to schools and book-groups. He started out publishing his own books (the high fantasy <i><a href="http://www.markrobsonauthor.com/books/darkweaver-series/">Darkweaver Legacy</a></i> quartet) before Simon and Schuster picked up his <i><a href="http://www.markrobsonauthor.com/books/imperial-series/">Imperial</a> </i>sequence set in the same world. Then came the <i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_364127783">Dragon Orb</a></i><a href="http://www.markrobsonauthor.com/books/dragonorb-series/"> </a>quartet, about teenage dragon-riders in another fantasy world, who occasionally fly through a dimensional rift into our own circa 1918, resulting in some smashing dragons-vs-triplane action over the Western Front. </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b></b></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">His latest, <i><a href="http://www.markrobsonauthor.com/books/devils-triangle/">The Devil's Triangle</a></i> is the first of a trilogy about the Bermuda Triangle, the area of sea between Florida and Bermuda where bats and aircraft are supposed to go missing more frequently than they do over other large patches of sea... In Mark's story the disapearees find themselves on a parallel Earth where mammals never caught on and the dominant species are a race of highly evolved velociraptor types.</span></b></span></div></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"></div></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr67K2BPJ8AtYCjV3jh0dyhja5YGEGm-8Bfd96zTC2x97fuJ1iRs9R9X5w3BxfaoV_Fyd6L-lMMzAOVoN8d32L8i9b46F5eW4S8kMsdLAPuLDQqX_pdUHIhjPew39i0kfb_-z3L7Dz7lY/s1600/devils-triangle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr67K2BPJ8AtYCjV3jh0dyhja5YGEGm-8Bfd96zTC2x97fuJ1iRs9R9X5w3BxfaoV_Fyd6L-lMMzAOVoN8d32L8i9b46F5eW4S8kMsdLAPuLDQqX_pdUHIhjPew39i0kfb_-z3L7Dz7lY/s400/devils-triangle.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Philip Reeve: </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>Like Roald Dahl and Captain W.E Johns, you've made the leap from RAF pilot to children's author. How did that come about?</i></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Mark Robson:</b> It was a strange chance that set me writing. I was down in the Falkland Islands on detachment in July 1996 and the weather that year was particularly bad. We were getting 80mph winds with heavy snow that was actually getting through the roofing and settling in the corridors! There was no way we could fly in those conditions and I got very irritable as I hate being idle. I annoyed my navigator so much with my grumpiness that one morning he snapped at me, “For goodness’ sake, Mark! Do something useful. Go write a book, or something!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">What he really said was a bit more colourful than that, but it would be inappropriate to repeat the actual language here! I’ve always loved a challenge and having always been a prolific reader, I’d often thought <i>It would have been great if the character had done this, or if the author had twisted the story in a different way here</i>. Why not write a book? All I needed was paper, a pencil and some time… all of which were available in abundance. I told Arnie (the Navigator) that I would write the first chapter to a book and if he liked it, I would write the rest. I’ve never looked back. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nBFS06CyJ7BmpnWWC1Bqo6zJq6zSUDliTGnxHjwkaMlrKcHlaMArpTSrKSgQU_BV-om_CIe_t7qQ00fFnrV64UltUhyphenhyphenxafkb9fMstoIwHaQteyx3ePQW1LPHHVW-N6e9CInthra-3IM/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nBFS06CyJ7BmpnWWC1Bqo6zJq6zSUDliTGnxHjwkaMlrKcHlaMArpTSrKSgQU_BV-om_CIe_t7qQ00fFnrV64UltUhyphenhyphenxafkb9fMstoIwHaQteyx3ePQW1LPHHVW-N6e9CInthra-3IM/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" /></a></div><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Philip Reeve: </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>The Bermuda Triangle seems to have gone a bit quiet lately. When I was a lad it was never off the telly in one form or another. I remember an American sci-fi show called 'Fantastic Journey' which involved Roddy McDowell trying to escape from it, and there was even a Bermuda Triangle song by Barry Manilow. I quite liked reading about it, because it was a nice long way away and so not as scary as aliens, who one always suspected might land in the back garden at any moment. I'm intrigued to know what prompted you to write about it. Is it an interest of yours, or just a handy way to get your characters into the raptor world?</i></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Mark Robson:</b> It appears there is still a remarkable amount of interest in the Bermuda Triangle, though if you ask most young people where it is, they don’t actually know. They simply have a vague notion of it as a mysterious place where boats and aircraft disappear. I was amazed when I started putting bits on my blog about some of the more famous mysteries just how rapidly the hits on my website increased. Folk remain fascinated by the aura of mystery that surrounds the area.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqymf2sjxNyYB1KkFuJrBJT7Kmd8Gnga1tlE24U4LkqEr34kqCHWa9Oa2lt7XX9I1_0E8iUKttdmKj36whFEAwbfdG6PTJ-VIryOsy2FzML-2sHm0xdGD4hXoEPU4IvukKMz9Fjx6IPpo/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqymf2sjxNyYB1KkFuJrBJT7Kmd8Gnga1tlE24U4LkqEr34kqCHWa9Oa2lt7XX9I1_0E8iUKttdmKj36whFEAwbfdG6PTJ-VIryOsy2FzML-2sHm0xdGD4hXoEPU4IvukKMz9Fjx6IPpo/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">My original intention was to write a follow-up series to Dragon Orb utilising the Bermuda Triangle, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt the setting offered the chance for me to attempt having contemporary characters enter a fantasy style adventure through it. What I didn’t realise was how much of a change this would require to my writing process – having so much real world action. My publishers loved the idea and commissioned it, but when it came to writing the first book, I found it terrifying. It felt like learning to write from scratch all over again. All the things I could get away with in my previous books because I was writing in an imaginary world now had to be correct. I found my research time for the silliest little things became hugely distracting to the writing process.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">There are many websites and books, (most a bit dated now, but a few newer ones) devoted to the mysteries surrounding the region. The sensationalists will tell you that the effects are as active as ever. I’m not so sure about that. However, it was fascinating doing the research in the Florida Keys. Whenever I asked anyone about it in interview while they were in a work related place, they all said it was a load of hokum. Get the same sort of people in a bar in the evening and their stories are very different. Apparently ‘everyone’ knows that Atlantis is on the seabed near the Bahamas and that there are weird magnetic anomalies in the area, to say nothing of all the UFOs and USOs (Unidentified Submarine Objects). To be honest, my own experiences flying through the region as a military pilot were very mundane, but there do seem to have been a remarkable number of interesting incidents in the area, so who knows? Maybe there is something strange happening out there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Philip Reeve: </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>The raptor civilisation's energy source in the book is ingenious - heating the earth's mantle to increase its magnetic field - and sounds convincing to me. But it's starting to go wrong, with catastrophic climatic effects. Is that intended as a parable about our own world? I sometimes worry that </i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">all</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i> the new technologies we sci-fi writers suggest are in the process of ruining the world: it makes for a more interesting story if they go wrong, but are we giving children the idea that technology is a bad thing, and that they should be pessimistic about the future?</i></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Mark Robson:</b> I must thank science fiction writer and occasional editor of <i>New Scientist</i> magazine, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Watson_(author)">Ian Watson</a>, for that idea. My conversation with him would have sounded bizarre to anyone listening in. It went something like this:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Me: Hi, Ian. Mark Robson here. I wonder if you could help me. I’ve got a bit of a problem. I need to increase the earth’s magnetic field by several factors. How can I do it?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Pause.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ian: Mark! Ah, yes. Interesting. Well, the obvious solution would be to bring the moon closer… but that might prove a bit tricky! (I’m thinking <i>Yeah, obvious! Silly me! Why didn’t I think of that?</i>) I suppose you could detonate a mass of directed nuclear charges on the far side and try to shunt it a bit nearer, but I’m not convinced that would work and the splatter would be terribly messy. Even if you did manage it, the side-effects would be horrific. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Me: Ah! So not possible then.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ian: Well… of course, you know the earth works like a dynamo. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Me: Yes, I vaguely remember something about that from my ‘A’ Level Physics days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ian: OK, well the earth’s magnetic field is caused by the friction of the magma flowing around the earth’s iron core. If you could speed up the flow, the friction would increase and so would the strength of the magnetic field. Hmmm… how could we speed up the magma flow? Make it less viscous. Heat it, perhaps… hmm… that’s a lot of magma to heat…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">And thus began the raptor’s cunning plan of pumping their nuclear waste into the earth’s core over a number of centuries, gradually producing the stronger field. In theory, doing this might produce the effect I describe, though probably not at the magnitude I have it in the story. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Yes, the inadvertent ecological disaster is intended as a parable. The dangers of ignoring the warning signs of an impending global catastrophe are pretty self-evident, and there’s a certain degree of tongue-in-cheek parallel to the human race’s general attitude to global warming. However, I’m trying to avoid it becoming too preachy in the story and I certainly don’t want to give children the impression that all technology is bad. Personally I’m something of an optimist and feel that mankind is so adaptive that we will continue to find ways to overcome the problems we seem to be creating for ourselves.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The political situation in the raptor society also comes to the fore in the second book. The rulers there are rather like a military junta who control their society with an iron fist. While the general raptor populace are willing to bury their heads in the sand when it comes to the causes of their environmental changes, one particular decision by their leaders in Book 2 will spark a very violent revolution.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Philip Reeve: </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>Do you do a lot of world building before you start a book, or does it come together as you write? Do you plan your characters, or do they just grow?</i></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I must confess that I don’t do anywhere near enough world building before I begin and that nearly always comes back to haunt me as I get further into a story. I do try to get to know my characters a little before I launch into a story with them, but again, I should probably do more. I have found with each series of books I’ve written that it takes until the end of the first book for me to feel like I know them properly. Even then they surprise me sometimes.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Philip Reeve: </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>What's next?</i></span></span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Mark Robson:</b> Book 2 of the trilogy, <b><i>Eye of the Storm,</i></b> is well underway. I’m just over half way through the first draft and hope to complete it in time for a pre-Christmas launch. In this book the reader will learn that the crossing points between worlds are not limited entirely to the Bermuda Triangle region and that many other famous mysterious disappearances were actually caused by random storms in other parts of the world. We find Amelia Earhart’s grandson has invented a new breed of flying machine, giving raptors the power of flight. It also appears that Glenn Miller and Lord Lucan were victims of the effect!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">What I’d love to do is set the real world element of the third (and final) book off the coast of Japan in the area Charles Berlitz dubbed “The Devil’s Sea” – another area of water with a similar reputation to the Bermuda Triangle. This would, of course, require another research trip… one of the great things about setting a story in the real world!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Beyond this trilogy, I’m not sure. I’ve got outlines for about another 10 books of various types, and ideas for a lot more. Having recently gained my black belt in Tae Kwon Do, I’d quite like to try writing a modern martial arts story – the Karate Kid meets Jackie Chan in Grange Hill sort of thing. I think that would be a lot of fun to do. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b><i>Philip Reeve:</i></b><i> Thank you Mark. Take it away, Barry!*</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0ENiYRkC0uY" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>*And leave it there.</i></span></div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-86232826831301360582011-04-17T10:29:00.000-07:002011-04-17T10:30:49.671-07:00Bracelet of Bones, by Kevin Crossley-Holland<a href="http://www.kevincrossley-holland.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Kevin Crossley-Holland</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> is one of the giants of children's fiction, which he's been writing for as long as I can recall - I remember being thrilled by his version of <b><i>Beowulf</i></b> when I was at school. More recently his </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Arthur</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> trilogy has been hugely and deservedly successful, and its lovely pendant, </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Gatty's Tale</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> is one of my favourite modern novels. He's also, among other things, an acclaimed poet, and the author of the marvellous </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Penguin Book of Norse Myths</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6MkTCCTQH-Zt6yqBcqsJhZalJ3DG_hOkw1Z8sVsM2NR82whe-AhJqShYflllh_uomBTIjQuzDAb19Aa5mS9l6jqlIPYCOpUSnaCKJkIdHAEE6MN6Gp6ZDrgWjgKX-s6mS8yRFowaQEo/s1600/51SN-mHZHLL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6MkTCCTQH-Zt6yqBcqsJhZalJ3DG_hOkw1Z8sVsM2NR82whe-AhJqShYflllh_uomBTIjQuzDAb19Aa5mS9l6jqlIPYCOpUSnaCKJkIdHAEE6MN6Gp6ZDrgWjgKX-s6mS8yRFowaQEo/s1600/51SN-mHZHLL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">His latest book, </span><b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Bracelet-Bones-Viking-Sagas-Crossley-Holland/dp/1847249396"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bracelet of Bones</span></a></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, marks a return to the Viking north. Rather as his Arthur books drew on Arthurian traditions from all across Europe, </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bracelet of Bones </span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">reminds us that the Vikings didn't just operate in northern seas but sailed and traded as far as Byzantium (Constantinople to us; Miklagard to them). And like </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Gatty's Tale</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, the new book is the story of a girl on a journey; Solveig, who sets out to follow her father, a Viking warrior who has gone to join the Byzantine emperor's Varangian guard.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Solveig's odyssey takes her from 11th Century Norway through the heart of what is now Russia, to Novgorod, Kiev, and the perilous cataracts of the River Dnieper. Along the way she encounters kings and craftsman, Christians and pagans, shamans and slaves. There is an ambush by savage Pechenegs (me neither), a meeting with an English spy, and landfall at last in Byzantium itself, a city so teeming with life and detail that it leaves you longing to know more, and looking forward to the sequel (which is already under way, hoorah!). Most of the people Solveig meets are basically good, and few of the bad ones seem completely bad; there is a refreshing absence of real villainy; a sense that people (except maybe Pechenegs) are basically decent.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is not a fast-moving story. It flows like a river, mostly slow and patient, taking its time, occasionally rushing over sudden rapids of violence and tragedy. I wonder how it will be received by young readers used to the breakneck pacing of many contemporary children's books? I hope they give it a chance, and bring to it the concentration which it demands and deserves. They will be rewarded if they do. It's a rich and convincing evocation of the past, and at the same time a great character study - a tremendous amount of the book takes place in Solveig's head, as her thoughts and memories constantly interweave with the narrative, as do the stories that she knows; the myths and superstitions which often seem as real to her as the rest of her world. It's a book about fathers and daughters, and friendship, and the joys and difficulties of making things: carvings; stories. It's about growing up. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And perhaps more than any of these, it's about language and the love of language: like my other favourite writer, <a href="http://the-solitary-bee.blogspot.com/2010/12/pull-out-all-stops.html">Geraldine McCaughrean</a>, Mr Crossley-Holland is an author whose books need reading at least twice; once for the story, and once for the words themselves.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Philip Reeve</i></span>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-16056798171680438572011-04-08T00:24:00.000-07:002011-04-08T00:25:50.618-07:00A Good Workout<div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">By</span> Andrew Gorton </span></span></b></div></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-BJSBuplbRLLaiQJsc_l68UkZT6qa7PRMm0jUTquYmvdCjF8EQ7QS51CBLyppRMY5L9k7fRKlENRcy8-mvLwORLdtNQBd_npzbk0NGXuCU2Vh_Gxtj-xK5W0dMTu9K9LEULDe9nuuiQ/s1600/holt+park+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-BJSBuplbRLLaiQJsc_l68UkZT6qa7PRMm0jUTquYmvdCjF8EQ7QS51CBLyppRMY5L9k7fRKlENRcy8-mvLwORLdtNQBd_npzbk0NGXuCU2Vh_Gxtj-xK5W0dMTu9K9LEULDe9nuuiQ/s320/holt+park+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the summer of 2010, a friend, knowing of my burgeoning interest in nature and the environment, handed me the July programme of a conservation group that had, at that time, been going for nearly a year. Activities included earthworm surveys, tree planting, and the removal of bracken, bramble and other invasive species, among similar endeavours. The group was called the <a href="http://www.northnorfolk.org/community/5390.asp">North Norfolk Workout Project</a>. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Keen to try it out, I turned up at Cromer train station, one of the pick-up points mentioned on the programme, and duly the project minibus arrived, driven by project manager Mark. After introductions, Mark explained a bit more about the group. The project had been set up by the North Norfolk district Council and BTCV, with input from English Nature and the NHS, amongst other groups. The idea was to undertake outdoor conservation projects in the North Norfolk region, and in the process give volunteers access to nature and improve their physical and mental health.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So off we went to Sadlers Wood near North Walsham - myself, Mark and a half-dozen or so other volunteers, to clear bracken from a wild flower meadow. I must admit, when I saw the amount of bracken, I quailed a bit, and wondered if we could clear it all. But we all got stuck in, and soon large swathes of the stuff had been cleared. I found it surprising and strangely satisfying to see the amount we had done just a couple of hours.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> After a very pleasant tea break – an essential fixture of each session - some of the group carried out a couple of surveys on behalf of the Open Air Laboratories Network (OPAL), a scheme run by the Natural History Museum that encourages people to investigate certain aspects of the natural world and report their results. That day, we carried out a soil and earthworm survey. This involved investigating a patch of soil to find out its make-up, (how much sand, how much clay etc.), its acidity, and whether there were any earthworms nearby. The next survey involved checking trees for specific types of lichen to determine the levels of nitrogen in the air - some lichens thrive in nitrogen rich air and others do not, so this is a good way of checking air quality. In the event, we found neither earthworms nor lichens of any kind, but the results were sent off, and hopefully the boffins at the NHM can make something of them. I returned home at the end of the day having enjoyed both the work and the surroundings a lot. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div style="font-family: Times; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was after this that a period of ill health prevented me from getting about for a bit, so I was unable to attend any more sessions until September, when I became involved in earnest. I attended a wildlife walk in Bacton woods with Mark's colleague Fin, and saw an unbelievable (to me, at any rate) array of different fungi – 2010 being a bumper year for them. The session after that at Holt Country Park was something of a knees-up to celebrate the Project's 1</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">st</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> anniversary. A good time was had by all, although I did feel a bit guilty attending the event – I had only done 2 sessions prior to this, and I was rubbing shoulders with people who had done 30, 40, or 50 sessions.... Anyway, I got a good vibe from all the other volunteers, they were proud of what they had done in the last year, and Mark and Fin were given cards signed by everybody in appreciation of their efforts.</span></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Times; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"></div></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyW6Pn_rhaATPI4aEF54sFHl9VODZPGavgK5XflDZ8ig0G_EGr3R9SJ0q_P3KproRCfOPU59pCsjRUTKbfpVAGIO6mfWkSP0rj-6Y60BdNyGvptf28ydNHc9LjuEnCq0tLJQ7SfMSXoOs/s1600/100_0648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyW6Pn_rhaATPI4aEF54sFHl9VODZPGavgK5XflDZ8ig0G_EGr3R9SJ0q_P3KproRCfOPU59pCsjRUTKbfpVAGIO6mfWkSP0rj-6Y60BdNyGvptf28ydNHc9LjuEnCq0tLJQ7SfMSXoOs/s640/100_0648.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since then, I have worked at a number of sites throughout North Norfolk with the Project, performing a lot of different conservation activities.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At Pigneys Wood at North Walsham, one of the earliest tasks I was involved in was raking recently mown grass from a wild flower meadow. This is to prevent the grass from rotting down and swamping the soil – wild flowers prefer thin soil with relatively few nutrients; a case of 'less is more.' On subsequent sessions there I have found myself cutting reeds, planting hedges and trees and coppicing alders. Coppicing is an ancient form of woodland management, where the trees are cut right down to the stumps, and then allowed to grow, often producing several thin poles from the same stump. In the meantime, the reduced canopy allows more light to reach the forest floor, increasing biodiversity there. On this particular exercise, these alders had been previously coppiced, and the numerous poles we sawed down were going to be used for an art project. They are flexible enough to be weaved, or 'wattled' into walls. (A more recent coppicing session at Holt Country Park will see the alder trunks used to make a maze – pretty 'amazing' eh?). Incidentally, a similar technique is pollarding. This is where the trees are cut to chest or head height. This is to allow livestock to graze without damaging the new shoots.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A regular activity we carry out around Holt and Sheringham is the removal of rhododendrons, an extremely invasive species. Although it sometimes seems a never-ending task – there are masses of this plant around - 5 or 6 of us can make short work of a large rhodo bush. Indeed, it is quite satisfying to saw through a large trunk of this Triffid-like plant and remove great swathes of it for later burning.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A couple of sessions were at Salthouse Heath, clearing gorse, not only to encourage biodiversity, but to expose 4000-year-old Bronze Age burial mounds for archaeological investigation. One cannot choose but wonder what sort of people they were, or what life was like back then. The photographs below show one particular mound, before we had begun work, and after we had finished for the afternoon.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before:</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwyIBomzURDiItOvbveoEkzOg9SWHnEPng8nqxOhI3xHF6VswgyfIX-28xH8gBMYfP7-qRmadPkH1h0WRvSY47F45s_qBTJyiTshE9MYBszpwzd6Ak2ROQxFOqtbr6hpXcP7gE-1Yi2w/s1600/Mound+before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwyIBomzURDiItOvbveoEkzOg9SWHnEPng8nqxOhI3xHF6VswgyfIX-28xH8gBMYfP7-qRmadPkH1h0WRvSY47F45s_qBTJyiTshE9MYBszpwzd6Ak2ROQxFOqtbr6hpXcP7gE-1Yi2w/s400/Mound+before.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="font: 18.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><u><br />
</u></span></span></div></div></div></span><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After: </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilJWkQhlWRcgLbYnb_8AOa9wNWvkEf2_4p7Q5wZOKCmh-AVB-05cagEOKLj4ZdcCwSz85VI82-t5IW85qXdv7E-x1rNgmPJj4Tbctj6eq1mCKtVD0ueb_KErV3UwPP81AbZRCR2wJG7cQ/s1600/mound+after.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilJWkQhlWRcgLbYnb_8AOa9wNWvkEf2_4p7Q5wZOKCmh-AVB-05cagEOKLj4ZdcCwSz85VI82-t5IW85qXdv7E-x1rNgmPJj4Tbctj6eq1mCKtVD0ueb_KErV3UwPP81AbZRCR2wJG7cQ/s400/mound+after.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was one particular session at Salthouse I shall never forget. We'd finished early to go and see the nearby remains of a World War 2 radar mast. Towards the end of the war, a Lancaster bomber returning from a mission over Germany had to divert from it's home airfield due to thick fog that had covered the whole area. Lost, and flying at around 200 feet, the plane had crashed right into this radar mast. Six of the crew were killed outright, and the seventh died a few hours later. It was very sobering to see the remains of the tower – four concrete 'feet', each with about a meter or so of metal girder sprouting from them, adorned with wooden crucifixes and a poppy wreath. There was a light fog forming when we got there, and knowing what had happened there, it was quite an eerie experience.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On a lighter note, and speaking of fog, I have, perhaps a touch masochistically, gone out in all weathers during my time with the project. Sun, rain, snow; you name it I've been out in it. Holt Country Park, just before Christmas, looked particularly winter-wonderlandy:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQtaknhADy5cKf9sjoKtO3mBI7WWvHZNQ8oc-HSfjJiRgb-7EUpYkDT9vB7M7XMOabF3JLYN5NQsndi-2XnXDT2QBv6U8zgd78ulrrxJclw3c42hIX6ia1E9i58RTGJjjEzGxbYr9hKU/s1600/holt+park+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQtaknhADy5cKf9sjoKtO3mBI7WWvHZNQ8oc-HSfjJiRgb-7EUpYkDT9vB7M7XMOabF3JLYN5NQsndi-2XnXDT2QBv6U8zgd78ulrrxJclw3c42hIX6ia1E9i58RTGJjjEzGxbYr9hKU/s640/holt+park+3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The project has also garnered a couple of prestigious awards. One, awarded before I had joined, was for encouraging biodiversity in the region. We were also one of three groups short-listed for the Love Norfolk category for the Norfolk People of the Year awards. I was privileged to be invited, along with fellow volunteer Clive along to the evening by Mark and Fin (we had to wear suits, a real shock to the system!) along with representatives from other organisations involved with the NNWP. In the end, we lost to a community composting group based in Trunch. (Boo! Hiss!) But all in all, it was an honour to be short-listed, and it was a great evening, with some good food and some really inspiring stories of human endeavour. We also managed to filch a few bottles of wine to boot-something extra for Christmas!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So far, I have done some 40 sessions with the North Norfolk Workout Group, and have enjoyed them immensely. I have particularly enjoyed meeting and working with the other volunteers, who are from a variety of backgrounds. Some are college students studying the countryside and the environment. A couple of others already have degrees in similar fields. All have brought their knowledge to the Project in one way or another. Some, like me, are unemployed and are seeking to gain new skills and experience. Still others have come on the Project to meet new people and to just get out of the house and do something worthwhile. But whatever the reasons, I think I can say that we have all got something out of the North Norfolk Workout.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Andrew Gorton is an Open University student, London born but now living on the North Norfolk coast.</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div></span></span></div><div><br />
</div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-13222336661609136372011-04-06T04:20:00.000-07:002013-03-10T13:33:26.586-07:00MicMacs<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Philip Reeve</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> has been watching </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">MicMacs</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2009. Cert. 12)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OfgzRecYpfDqWetVCHrKq3jS4Ts1Rwynp10dCbKBd5JqAPcUqr6_ykJLVri-ii3D_9ww-mi7y9Ix1Fo_PkSsGNTBJDMeOKSqOTU3L5kgBBFlDX_w0n48xiruI0IxVsA6tvJ6uFnR6g0/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OfgzRecYpfDqWetVCHrKq3jS4Ts1Rwynp10dCbKBd5JqAPcUqr6_ykJLVri-ii3D_9ww-mi7y9Ix1Fo_PkSsGNTBJDMeOKSqOTU3L5kgBBFlDX_w0n48xiruI0IxVsA6tvJ6uFnR6g0/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Films slip past me sometimes now that I live so far from cinemas. How did I miss <i>Mic-Macs</i>? Did it get no cinema release in the UK? Was there no publicity? Not to worry; it's on DVD now, and it's well worth watching. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8FOalPEmzISZ_35O82KEMy_AQgxGvzDA8XSyDIFXtEg2SKnNXqvvfn0v4YMU1KQQW3gZkaqmueS9bJqI2UgTmONX0l66yHEJXnp0aGmJxDJirjZ5Txn0pVL4EMJp_gahAXxN3iuP6Kks/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8FOalPEmzISZ_35O82KEMy_AQgxGvzDA8XSyDIFXtEg2SKnNXqvvfn0v4YMU1KQQW3gZkaqmueS9bJqI2UgTmONX0l66yHEJXnp0aGmJxDJirjZ5Txn0pVL4EMJp_gahAXxN3iuP6Kks/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alien: Resurrection</span></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Pierre_Jeunet"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Jean-Pierre Jeunet</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> has been one of my heroes ever since his debut, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Delicatessen</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, which he wrote and directed with Marc Caro back in 1991. Their follow-up, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">City of Lost Children</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, was harder to like - beautiful but slightly unappealing - and then M Jeunet went off </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">sans</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Caro to Hollywood to direct </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alien: Resurrection</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> which was legendarily, franchise-stallingly bad (although I suspect the fault lay more with the producers than the director, and there were still some lovely visual flourishes - Brad Dourif in his tailored lab-coat is the forefather of all the Engineers in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mortal Engines</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">). After that, thankfully, there were no more stints helming clapped-out Hollywood cash-cows; instead, M Jeunet returned to France to make </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Amelie</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (which, despite frequently being described as 'charming and quirky' actually </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">is</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> charming and quirky) and the magnificent World War 1 story </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A Very Long Engagement</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVlwZW0yf23jUNeci8OAdqIZ6guHuKgpKefaQY6McR_FspzzuWlZ9896M5bZht7bbc9RZwKEdm9MpMV6Wtdwn-ZiDW35X01-ntkuZg31suIvNI-xTEj8ouwl2_VI5F7lBztjg1yy1W4o/s1600/images-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVlwZW0yf23jUNeci8OAdqIZ6guHuKgpKefaQY6McR_FspzzuWlZ9896M5bZht7bbc9RZwKEdm9MpMV6Wtdwn-ZiDW35X01-ntkuZg31suIvNI-xTEj8ouwl2_VI5F7lBztjg1yy1W4o/s1600/images-6.jpeg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A Very Long Engagement<br />
</span></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And now, with very little fanfare as far I can tell, there is </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">MicMacs</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, which combines some of the quirky sweetness of Amelie with a crazy </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">bande dessine</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> storyline which harks right back to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Delicatessen</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. The hero, Bazil, is a man who falls on hard times, and is rescued by a mis-matched 'family' of homeless oddballs who inhabit a glorious labyrinth of junk and salvage under a Parisian flyover. (I presume these are the MicMacs of the title, though I still have no idea what a MicMac actually is) With their help he sets out to wreak revenge on the two arms manufacturers who have wrecked his life (one made the land-mine which killed his father, while the other produced the bullet which is lodged in Bazil's brain). Through a series of increasingly complex ruses involving strange, scrap-heap machines, they start to turn the two armaments giants against one another...</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDQaaZAry65GYd3DxmqoxDTZ4LkGEdQilJ1P5bLpk0dmnqlAbabIWf1DD6XuNWTnHJVwam_Fu6PriM1dEeMUMUvlakqMD8boEthR0VuwWGep13GSuTFmXF97mw0CrqR0n58t8TRkz1QY/s1600/images-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDQaaZAry65GYd3DxmqoxDTZ4LkGEdQilJ1P5bLpk0dmnqlAbabIWf1DD6XuNWTnHJVwam_Fu6PriM1dEeMUMUvlakqMD8boEthR0VuwWGep13GSuTFmXF97mw0CrqR0n58t8TRkz1QY/s1600/images-3.jpeg" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's all hugely unlikely, but likeliness is not the point here. Jeunet films are fantasies, and even when they are set in present-day Paris he transforms it into a dream world. His arms tycoons don't work out of soaring glass office buildings, but in a pair of identical 1930s towers which face each other across a narrow street. The rooftops of Paris can't really be such a fantastic maze of smoking chimney-pots any more, can they? The film's scrap-metal saboteurs perform feats out of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mission Impossible</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> with equipment which could have been designed by the Wombles. Even when he photographs something mundane, like people uploading videos to YouTube or stuck in a traffic jam among modern buildings, Jeunet gives it all a strange patina of age and difference. Under the eye of his restless, gliding camera Paris transforms itself into a parallel world, much like the retro-future of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Delicatessen</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (which was itself a nod to the retro-future of Terry Gilliam's </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Brazil)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijZAlqSjVVLdZbKQ1sC7UlCam64V7Xdxs7pa-kMwjz-IJ_nvwvFwX7JV7nWXPfdeZe25xk59PU_3x6I77XwMeErN31Wp5AfSGlPIWwNGJgQogcLTLjCTnC6vDLa7K4TduAMqYlUxMuqU/s1600/images-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijZAlqSjVVLdZbKQ1sC7UlCam64V7Xdxs7pa-kMwjz-IJ_nvwvFwX7JV7nWXPfdeZe25xk59PU_3x6I77XwMeErN31Wp5AfSGlPIWwNGJgQogcLTLjCTnC6vDLa7K4TduAMqYlUxMuqU/s1600/images-5.jpeg" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Like all my favourite film-makers, Jeunet doesn't seem that interested in dialogue. You sense he would have been perfectly at home in the silent era. In the pre-title sequence he explains Bazil's background perfectly in a few swift and largely wordless scenes. Later, at taxi-ranks and on roof-tops, there are visual routines worthy of Chaplin. It's tempting to compare it to French comic-books, but that would be misleading, because while every shot is composed as beautifully as a Moebius strip, <i>Mic-Macs</i> isn't like a comic book: it's like a <i>movie</i>. It's also very sweet - a revengers' comedy in which good triumphs, romance blossoms, and villains are ingeniously undone.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPIaLm6NNvjaJtsm7LYfgHKD9hqaUIjeB_weND0rq_abuc8oPXMBhfjGFl23R133fismnX7i4b3apRohR0yi4NVf3LcuPEJ22rVPnUaPLfLjD468R655NMkpLvONsnoxxihPuhGFBSKY/s1600/images-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPIaLm6NNvjaJtsm7LYfgHKD9hqaUIjeB_weND0rq_abuc8oPXMBhfjGFl23R133fismnX7i4b3apRohR0yi4NVf3LcuPEJ22rVPnUaPLfLjD468R655NMkpLvONsnoxxihPuhGFBSKY/s1600/images-4.jpeg" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As they say on French YouTube (apparently): </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Partager Cette Video</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-55423059577667989782011-02-22T08:43:00.000-08:002011-02-22T08:48:04.216-08:00Is the Turner Prize a Reflection of Art Today?<div style="font: normal normal normal 22px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Back when the </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bee</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> was young I had a bit of a strop about the </span></i><a href="http://the-solitary-bee.blogspot.com/2010/06/tate-starts-to-grate.html"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tate Gallery</span></i></a><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (or 'Tate Britain' as it's been rebranded). This prompted </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ethan Wilderspin</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> to send in the following piece on the Tate, the Turner Prize, and, y'know, Art...</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 22px; font-style: normal;"></span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i></i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i></i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Is there any question that Claude Monet’s </span></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Impression Sunrise</span></b></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> is art? (Whether you like the painting or not is a different matter.) </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 22px; font-style: normal;"></span></span></i></span></div><i><div style="display: inline !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Is Tracy Emin’s </span></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My Bed</span></b></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> art? Does anyone like it?</span></b></span></b></span></div></i></i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7DXMVH8lVAQn4nmO_8OFMnBEYPq_J0JP5KcEgK9K6KRfr6tm_9169Ddn23EvhgKaoWhC3PSCcL7oNvMcM3UazF1mRYcZw7CFZfaI5PehsU-5bZb5iTuyrPI4AmkSHQffCf8_Cw0R8DE/s1600/Impression+Sunrise+Monet+Print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7DXMVH8lVAQn4nmO_8OFMnBEYPq_J0JP5KcEgK9K6KRfr6tm_9169Ddn23EvhgKaoWhC3PSCcL7oNvMcM3UazF1mRYcZw7CFZfaI5PehsU-5bZb5iTuyrPI4AmkSHQffCf8_Cw0R8DE/s320/Impression+Sunrise+Monet+Print.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Impression Sunrise (</span><a href="http://claudemonetprints.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Claude Monet Prints</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1crgeRKiCSXkWFiYRFKMQN44GPmCys1-8RqV7uZ_JUf-5fU-3kvQNnL9VHvdHDev5rblKcMvPK7GxvQgLthS3DeztKexZXQD4nA6trF1qg_KD_ZzgGHe8IFCfNjqQz_Xqf33dNStiaM/s1600/tracey-emin-my-bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1crgeRKiCSXkWFiYRFKMQN44GPmCys1-8RqV7uZ_JUf-5fU-3kvQNnL9VHvdHDev5rblKcMvPK7GxvQgLthS3DeztKexZXQD4nA6trF1qg_KD_ZzgGHe8IFCfNjqQz_Xqf33dNStiaM/s320/tracey-emin-my-bed.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">My Bed </span><a href="http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(Saatchi Gallery</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 8px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 8px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Turner Prize is either a prestigious award for contemporary art in the UK for artists under 50, or it is “Crap” – a pretentious award given to talentless individuals who are self proclaimed ‘artists’. Why is there so much controversy and disagreement over </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the Turner Prize? Is it because some people fail to grasp modern conceptual art, or is it because some people wake up in a bed not all that unlike Miss Emin’s every day? Indeed, does raw artistic talent lie within the rooms of all adolescent boys on the mornings that their mothers forget to scold them for their untidiness? </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Turner prize emerged the 1980’s and has had more media attention since its beginnings than any other award for artists in Britain. It is named, perhaps some what ironically, after the 19</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Century English landscape painter J. M. W. Turner. The prize (awarded in the Tate Britain gallery), although having been given to painters on occasion, is heavily criticized for generally focusing on conceptual or installation art. This is undeniably the case but why do these art mediums cause so much controversy around the event?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2008 Turner Prize winner </span><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/video/2008/dec/02/turner-prize-mark-leckey"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mark Leckey</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">talking of the controversy surrounding the prize,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> said, ‘I don’t care about all this. I want to make work that has some kind of effect on people, and basically… this show got called effectless, it had no impact and is attenuated. But I don’t get that.’ Disregarding Leckey’s personal opinion, he summarises the outlook of many in relation to the Turner Prize.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The </span><a href="http://stuckism.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stuckists</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> are a group of people who demonstrate on the doorstep of the Turner Prize every time it’s held. They claim to be “Anti the pretensions of conceptual art”, which according to them is the same as being Anti Anti-art. Essentially this shows that whether the Turner Prize is a good indication of contemporary British art or not, comes down to whether or not the individual considers a lot of the conceptual, video and instillation pieces actual art or not.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This seems to be the case, as everyone seems to want to put in their two penny’s worth. </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kim_Howells"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kim Howells </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">wrote "If this is the best British artists can produce then British art is lost.” </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janet_Street-Porter"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Janet Street-Porter</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> said “The Turner Prize entices thousands of young people into art galleries for the first time every year. It fulfils a valuable role”. There is so much criticism that comes from every angle, positive and negative. But the problem with the Turner prize is that </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">this </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">seems to be its very purpose; media hype. It is a showcase of controversy and that is all it ever has been, a magnet for media attention. Every year people wait to see how bizarre, mundane or talentless the new contestants' work will be; never do they expect (or, so it seems receive) ‘Art’ but instead media hype about some stupid soulless award.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">John Bourne, curator of the Tate museum said "We are grateful for the extra publicity the Stuckists have given the Tate". This seemingly witty comment actually just seems to confirm the notion that the Turner Prize is nothing more than a mainstream advertisement which uses the media for its marketing. Is that art?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ethan Wilderspin describes himself as 'A nineteen year old unemployed layabout with vague comic book author/illustrator aspirations...'</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </i></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-37907904450262526582011-01-21T02:47:00.000-08:002011-01-22T12:04:14.796-08:00Firefly & Serenity<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">By Philip Reeve</span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is the captain. We have a little problem with our engine sequence, so we may experience some slight turbulence, and then explode."</span></strong></span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYt4zF6sa91WMSTiGspbq4M1dQJWI5KNTlYvItqwJsiHv7QhlPjOf2qUJtSRWjxEoIvCz6nVMv2mVFEL-BAWQxh5_NrRawMCw51bezebqCokioFTlbYUOcbp5VbhPWaj7u0ngZo_rVEhQ/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYt4zF6sa91WMSTiGspbq4M1dQJWI5KNTlYvItqwJsiHv7QhlPjOf2qUJtSRWjxEoIvCz6nVMv2mVFEL-BAWQxh5_NrRawMCw51bezebqCokioFTlbYUOcbp5VbhPWaj7u0ngZo_rVEhQ/s1600/images.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I started writing about Stuff I Like on the internet one of the first things on my 'To Do' list was </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Then I looked around and couldn't help noticing that the internet is pretty much </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">made</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">: references to it, and</span><a href="http://www.fireflywiki.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> sites about it</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, seem to be everywhere; surely everyone must know about it already, and wouldn't be the least bit interested in hearing what I had to say on the subject.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But lately I've encountered a surprising number of people who haven't seen it, and even some who, when you mention it, go "What's </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">?" So here's </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Solitary Bee's</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> guide to its fellow insect-named cultural phenemenon.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly (Cert 12)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> is a 2002 sci-fi TV series created by </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joss_Whedon"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Joss Whedon</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, probably best known for the wonderful </span><i><a href="http://philipreeve.blogspot.com/2010/11/down-with-this-sort-of-thing.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Buffy the Vampire Slayer </span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and its sometimes wonderful spin-off </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Angel</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (a show which didn't so much jump the shark as vault nimbly to and fro across the shark in the manner popularised by Cretan bull dancers). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I first heard that Mr Whedon's new show would be a 'space western' I was unimpressed - aren't all space operas basically westerns? But </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> takes its conceit to the (il)logical extreme, dressing its space frontierspeople in braces, duster coats and fishtail trousers and arming them with souped-up six-shooters. There are cows. There are banjos. There is a cowboy ballad theme song which mournfully celebrates the ultimate freedom of the final frontier - "You can't take the sky from me..." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LrAS20mNZUE" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="640"></iframe></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sadly it turned out that the powers that be at Fox TV actually </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">could</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> take the sky from us, and they proceeded to do so by canceling </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> after 14 episodes, blaming poor viewing figures</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">*</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (Boo!). It then went on to become such a cult success on DVD that Joss Whedon was able to make a feature film, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity (Cert 15)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, which continues the story (Hurrah!). Alas </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> didn't do well enough at the box office to spawn a sequel (Boo again!)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">**</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Since then there have been several comics set in the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> universe (which I've not read), but all that the show's admirers are really left with is the movie and those original fourteen episodes.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Luckily, they were fourteen pretty good episodes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Set 500 years in the future, Firefly takes place in a far-off solar system which has been settled by human colonists. There are no monsters or aliens here (although the savage 'Reavers' who inhabit the system's fringes might as well be monsters, having lost all traces of humanity beyond an ability to maintain and fly ramshackle spacecraft ). These are far more down-to-earth alien worlds than we're used to visiting in the likes of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Star Trek</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. The frontier spirit prevails, and the production design is a witty mix of hi-tech and old west (the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> is surely the only film or TV spaceship that has wooden furniture in its mess hall). The various planets have recently been unified following a civil war between the vaguely authoritarian Alliance and the freedom-lovin' Browncoats. (The Browncoats, needless to say, got stomped on.) </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuD5KvazhZKMA6LRcQno5RvSgGtyk8H_WQC18c5V4F_AsJv4G-jZoHi_p-rm2Xmk9XGSx2NvpLFML5OkNn7ZHs7a4UD_gRdeCPslt3GDPxjanqwZOYkv7KM-8VKRQwgdWDAOwa9u7GPA/s1600/images-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuD5KvazhZKMA6LRcQno5RvSgGtyk8H_WQC18c5V4F_AsJv4G-jZoHi_p-rm2Xmk9XGSx2NvpLFML5OkNn7ZHs7a4UD_gRdeCPslt3GDPxjanqwZOYkv7KM-8VKRQwgdWDAOwa9u7GPA/s200/images-3.jpeg" width="111" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Our hero, Mal Reynolds, is a former Browncoat who now captains the grimy old 'Firefly' class space freighter </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, running cargo and contraband and generally trying to keep one step ahead of the law. As well as her small crew the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> carries some paying passengers; Book, a travelling preacher; space courtesan Inara</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">; and posh young doctor Simon Tam, who's on the run with his sister River (he has sprung her, as you do, from a top secret Alliance facility where attempts to turn her into a weapons-grade superhuman have left her talking in Whedonesque non sequiturs like </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drusilla_(Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer)"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Drusilla the Mockney Vampire</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">). Over the course of the truncated series we learn more about the characters' histories while they stage a couple of robberies, get involved in duels and tangle with space gangsters. River is pursued by some scary, blue-gloved Alliance operatives, and That Christina Hendricks Off </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Madmen</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> turns up as Mal's ex-wife.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhriSF7pmcdSxPRI-XFaHbC2EjtoheSPbtBEE1P8TxZ-LjJ7J2be-ScohpQZE3PCgXHKfjkQ5e21aKDpoK6EL0uJNmDdX1lnCUFTUeYY5VWG-ySo4ePQgxpLZmU8u63jOh22m9h1Bc8J9o/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhriSF7pmcdSxPRI-XFaHbC2EjtoheSPbtBEE1P8TxZ-LjJ7J2be-ScohpQZE3PCgXHKfjkQ5e21aKDpoK6EL0uJNmDdX1lnCUFTUeYY5VWG-ySo4ePQgxpLZmU8u63jOh22m9h1Bc8J9o/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All of which probably sounds a bit </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">yawn</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> if you haven't seen it, because, like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Buffy</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> before it and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dollhouse</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> after, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> is built entirely out of genre cliches. What brings it alive, and lifts it above the competition, is hard to define. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> First there's the feel of it - the folksy music, the costumes that look as if there must be a branch of </span><a href="http://www.old-town.co.uk/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Old Town </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on most of these moons and planets, and the wobbly, uncertain 'hand-held' camerawork which takes the CGI sheen off the effects shots. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The backstory is slightly more subtle than I've made it sound, too. The Alliance isn't exactly an evil empire (though some of its black ops have obviously crossed the line); it stands for order, security, and all the benefits of urban civilization; it's basically the sort of society that the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">heroes </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">of shows like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Star Trek</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> belong to. Mal and his comrades would probably be safer and cleaner and more prosperous living under its aegis, swapping the rusty earth-tones of the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and all those backwater moons for the gleaming greys and whites of the Alliance worlds... but they wouldn't be </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">free, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and like many a good western</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">holds that freedom, with all its dangers and dilemmas, is more important than just about anything. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then there's the language, packed with snappy one-liners and Whedon-y little asides, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Deadwood</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-ish 19th Century-isms, space-slang (anything nice or good is "shiny") and scraps of Chinese (everyone in the 'verse swears in Chinese, although oddly enough nobody actually appears to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">be </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Chinese...). When sci-fi cliches do appear, they're quickly undercut ("That sounds like something out of science fiction!" scoffs pilot Wash at some unlikely plot twist. "We live on a spaceship, dear," his wife reminds him.) Whedon's characters talk like no one else on telly: they falter; they make up words as they go along: they wander out into long convoluted sentences and can't work out how to get back; wobbly metaphors collapse beneath them, and rhetoric backfires. It's hard to imagine a tense eve-of-battle argument in any other sci-fi thriller featuring an angry exchange like this one between Mal and his uppity crewman Jayne in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 5px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mal:</span></strong><strong style="font-weight: 400;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (Rhetorically) "You wanna run this ship?!"</span></strong></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 5px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jayne: </span></strong><strong style="font-weight: 400;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Yes!"</span></strong></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 5px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mal:</span></strong><strong style="font-weight: 400;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (Completely flummoxed) "Well... you </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">can't!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"</span></strong></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfcjnJ75Am_zKPfOExJC3sAt1yG_ijHlQZK9MAECLoGu8VJwpGWilG0-HKAz9otGRKVezSMD80jQyQ9ANhM65D-EF2vVQHhmx_ag1-WcKC9_xT_jW9JRpGHd0u91X9wldLEW4yrfZAgs/s1600/images-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfcjnJ75Am_zKPfOExJC3sAt1yG_ijHlQZK9MAECLoGu8VJwpGWilG0-HKAz9otGRKVezSMD80jQyQ9ANhM65D-EF2vVQHhmx_ag1-WcKC9_xT_jW9JRpGHd0u91X9wldLEW4yrfZAgs/s320/images-5.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And most of all there are the characters themselves. When I watched the pilot show I found it hard to warm to Nathan Fillion as Mal: he just seemed tough, brooding, and bitter. I assumed he was the 26th century's version of </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Outlaw_josey_wales"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Clint Eastwood's Josey Wales</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">; a burned out case who would slowly recover his humanity. But as the series progressed it soon turned out that Mal was already far more human than your average sci-fi space captain; as well as the bitter and brooding thing he can be clumsy, funny, stubborn, shy, heroic - and sometimes just plain wrong. It's a lovely, self-deprecating performance (and David Boreanaz as </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Angel</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> managed something similar, so I suspect much of the credit must go to Joss Whedon's writing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">****</span>). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKTK9lsNxBVWxhyphenhyphenuSXOjY7_jiixN0muRtLGqwcKN7YadqaCpM_eSkKRmIiLzER-Oy2646qAxv0jiVDIhn8LF8X0fKrEf9PuYeEZ9_IzkMoX8foFDKcHh0k4x-Q9xOzV3sTT9w8ChXBFw/s1600/images-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKTK9lsNxBVWxhyphenhyphenuSXOjY7_jiixN0muRtLGqwcKN7YadqaCpM_eSkKRmIiLzER-Oy2646qAxv0jiVDIhn8LF8X0fKrEf9PuYeEZ9_IzkMoX8foFDKcHh0k4x-Q9xOzV3sTT9w8ChXBFw/s1600/images-4.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alan Tudyk as </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity's</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> pilot is equally endearing, playing one of Whedon's familiar uber-nerds, wistfully aware that he's not as tough and battle-hardened as his wife Zoe or crewmates Mal and Jayne. (</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #663300;"><strong style="font-weight: 400;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Hey, I've been in a firefight before! Well, I was in a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">fire</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">... </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Actually, I was fired..."</span></span></strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">) Zoe (Gina Torres) tends to act as Mal's conscience, she exudes strength and decency and we wish she had more time on screen. Adam Baldwin's Jayne is a stupid, treacherous, bullying, loose cannon, but somehow quite loveable too, and the source of many of the show's best jokes (and best hat). There's really no point listing the others, because they're all just as good (well Simon and River are a bit irritating, but I think they're meant to be) and the relationships between them, their rivalries and loyalties, smouldering resentments and undeclared loves, form the heart of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. That's what makes the series ultimately more enjoyable than the movie: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> packs a lot of plot into its two hours (and starts with the most elegant series of nested flashbacks I've ever seen to bring newcomers up to speed), but while it wraps up the story pretty well it hasn't time to explore the characters in the way that TV can. If only they'd been allowed to develop over the course of three or four seasons...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Still, at least we have one series. Well, two thirds of one series. And a movie. And a legion of loyal followers, who call themselves '</span><a href="http://www.browncoats.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Browncoats</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">', and whose cheerful devotion helps to keep the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> flame burning. Whether it will last remains to be seen: a few years ago there seemed to be an idea around that if the fans were just vocal enough the show might be revived, but that seems unlikely now. Maybe the story will continue in the comics. Maybe Mr Whedon should commission, say, a little-known British children's sci-fi author to write some tie in novels. Anyway, whatever happens, if you haven't joined the ranks of the Browncoats yet, you should buy, borrow, rent or download </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Firefly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serenity</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (in that order). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They're shiny.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCzCORRx5_0VQS_fF9Xi9PHFZNG2Ey-OkSFDdq-A-rKUYvPzWgF_tcAeEBKql-Kc6K-6I9LaO9lN44yyQ1S_JtuvYXc9Kc5XVsAHnHfUGN3luySdve1jJ9QuxTHijGN2U4gQgGWX0hD4/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCzCORRx5_0VQS_fF9Xi9PHFZNG2Ey-OkSFDdq-A-rKUYvPzWgF_tcAeEBKql-Kc6K-6I9LaO9lN44yyQ1S_JtuvYXc9Kc5XVsAHnHfUGN3luySdve1jJ9QuxTHijGN2U4gQgGWX0hD4/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Sci-fi shows have always suffered from being a)quite pricey to make and b)a bit of a minority interest - though weirdly the bleak War on Terror metaphor </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Battlestar Galactica</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> which started around the same time as </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Firefly</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> was popular enough to run to five joyless and increasingly confusing seasons...</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">**</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">When Sarah and I went to see </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Serenity</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> at the old Odeon in Plymouth there was a little speech by Joss Whedon tacked on to the beginning in which he thanked all the show's fans for making the movie possible. It was thoroughly charming, and it felt as if he was talking just to us. In fact, since we were the only people in the cinema, I guess technically he was....</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">***</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Joss Whedon seems to have something of a preoccupation with the Oldest Profession<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">*</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">. It surfaces again in the much darker </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Dollhouse</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">. I expect feminists have something to say about that.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">****</span>Of course it takes quite a large team of writers to produce the scripts for a show like <i>Firefly</i>, and some of the dialogue I've quoted in this post may not be by Joss Whedon himself; but I'm assuming he's responsible for the creation of the character's characters.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">*</span>That's stonemasons, children.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-74592438694973023942011-01-09T05:43:00.000-08:002011-01-09T05:45:22.497-08:00Excalibur Pre-Fabs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tC1hE5f52sCkCEbBCa_9s4NnOyka0OPv8MW1whIE1WONYOB0Lv3ZeegyAgmTYVf9UQggdFYCY8T8m-SoLm5byfTAkSq-ikOwqMSNhVRJhTOD1cB0WV2ODdUu5x8GcSVg07ScEeUjDb8/s1600/excalibur8.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tC1hE5f52sCkCEbBCa_9s4NnOyka0OPv8MW1whIE1WONYOB0Lv3ZeegyAgmTYVf9UQggdFYCY8T8m-SoLm5byfTAkSq-ikOwqMSNhVRJhTOD1cB0WV2ODdUu5x8GcSVg07ScEeUjDb8/s400/excalibur8.gif" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
It turns out that Excalibur isn't just the name of King Arthur's sword, and my favourite <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excalibur_(film)">movie</a>; it's also an estate of 1940s pre-fab bungalows in South London, which Lewisham Council (<i>Boo! Hiss!</i>) is currently planning to demolish. This short video was made by <b>Sarah McIntyre</b>, who has written about it on her own highly esteemed <a href="http://jabberworks.livejournal.com/365376.html">blog</a>. It's a great introduction to a place - and a cause - that I did not know about. I particularly like the way that all the streets on the estate seem to be named after Arthurian characters... though who'd want to live on Morded Road?<br />
<br />
<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yNeyYKLaZYo?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yNeyYKLaZYo?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-8914987783682087502011-01-09T05:07:00.000-08:002011-01-09T13:01:05.694-08:00MonstersBy<b> Philip Reeve</b><br />
<br />
Living in the country: being a parent: going to the cinema. It's possible to combine any two of these activities but not, I've found, all three. Since my son was born in 2002 I've barely been to the pictures at all, except to take him to see the occasional Pixar movie. But last night he was staying with one of his friends, so Sarah and I ventured down to the Barn cinema at Dartington to watch <i><a href="http://www.monstersthemovie.com/">Monsters</a></i>, an ambitious low-budget sci-fi road movie by the young British director Gareth Edwards. (In my day, young British directors only did cheesy mockney gangster flicks, so whatever you think of his film you have to admit that ambitious sci-fi road movies are a step in the right direction.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vlMhhEOxcx_m5iTYLV63ePGvsqR8iUjxyELSPr_kPDfLCx85rTAC9H5PhtUhwvdj_xYSguJ9HdyxhyphenhyphenbWBXGtTN7XkkxgxJHkq0h_XqtsWL6YQVqdWB2rZTCnGPIALNZ1cu-ljLGTUVM/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vlMhhEOxcx_m5iTYLV63ePGvsqR8iUjxyELSPr_kPDfLCx85rTAC9H5PhtUhwvdj_xYSguJ9HdyxhyphenhyphenbWBXGtTN7XkkxgxJHkq0h_XqtsWL6YQVqdWB2rZTCnGPIALNZ1cu-ljLGTUVM/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Monsters</i> is cut from similar (but cheaper) cloth to Neil Bloemenkamp's <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/District_9">District 9</a></i>. It follows a couple of stranded Americans as they try to make it back to the US border through a spreading 'infected zone' in northern Mexico which has been seeded with alien life brought back by a ill-advised NASA space probe (did <i>Quatermass</i> teach them <i>nothing</i>?) Unlike your average Hollywood catastophe flick, <i>Monsters</i> doesn't show us the end of civilisation happening overnight, but presents it as something slow and rather humdrum. Unfortunately the film itself is also slow and humdrum in places, with the central characters flanning around picturesque Mexican barrios like hipsters on a gap-year, barely bothering to mention the giant space octopi which are such a fixture on the rolling news channels. The aliens - whose motives and intelligence remain obscure - seem to have been infected by the same ennui and just stomp listlessly about knocking down buildings and scoffing pick-up tricks because, you know, that's what monsters <i>do</i>... It's obviously aiming to be a bit more existential than your average creature feature, but I did find myself yearning for the days when monster movies always came complete with a Scientist and his Beautiful Daughter who could explain a bit about the critters' life cycles.<br />
<br />
Still, mustn't grumble; the film is beautifully shot and edited, and the background is nicely sketched in, with hovering gunships and flights of jets giving the impression of some huge, secret and probably doomed military operation going on just beyond the edges of the story, and signs everywhere which look like the Mexican equivalent of those wartime 'Keep Calm and Carry On' posters that trendhounds nowadays find so hugely ironic. There are a couple of very well done monster encounters, and <i>slightly</i> too many scenes which build up a huge amount of tension and then fizzle out in some sort of false alarm. There is also a very good journey up a river clearly twinned with one in <i>Apocalypse Now</i>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhHILTxwenIll2wR9gmMeJ7BCjDugiPkzbh8ivWYHTOvL66Ht2wL2BXMNZJmwO-GA8yKgwIOmErSpZTxg5Mc35EM6mv9h6c4_uhQjAwmZ6Ww-weMpqWSm4isxnDTCIGc1xm1YSZt3-rE/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhHILTxwenIll2wR9gmMeJ7BCjDugiPkzbh8ivWYHTOvL66Ht2wL2BXMNZJmwO-GA8yKgwIOmErSpZTxg5Mc35EM6mv9h6c4_uhQjAwmZ6Ww-weMpqWSm4isxnDTCIGc1xm1YSZt3-rE/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
In the old days, monsters were always a metaphor for The Bomb; these modern ones were definitely a metaphor for <i>something</i>, but I couldn't quite work out what. The gringos' carpet bombing and chemical weapons seemed to be causing more damage than the creatures themselves, and a lot was made of a huge anti-alien wall which the US authorities were building all along their southern border. There was a bit of talk about how the U.S was 'imprisoning itself'. I suspect the message we were supposed to come away with was that the Third World, despite all its poverty, violence, and scary viruses, is actually no more of a threat to us than a swarm of aggressive walking squid the size of office buildings. Or something.Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4377421722520990399.post-64267486588553032752010-12-16T01:38:00.000-08:002010-12-16T01:49:30.648-08:00Ionia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Paul Andruss </span></b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and his partner moved to Turkey three years ago after deciding to stop moaning about life and start living it. Each year they take a trip: this year it was to some of the ancient sites a few hours drive away.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This land of gods and heroes fills me with irrational love and irrepressible </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">longing. Here a sister married her brother and built him a tomb so magnificent it became a wonder of the world. Here, a nymph saw a young man drink from her spring and desired him so fiercely, she prayed they would never part. With cruel humour, the gods joined flesh to flesh, creating the first hermaphrodite...</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9r7eRnZF4wIXgHEDbuOcu0Y23es_QU9Hj2sUyMiiq67NSsurfdMPH2bj-_SBWx32J4zGTrgtR4VWay2NC_dnwywKM1QU-CURzNng_bjap-4C-vRibVLhoU05IFLaRYssij6u-Ed3gkts/s1600/Hermaphroditus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9r7eRnZF4wIXgHEDbuOcu0Y23es_QU9Hj2sUyMiiq67NSsurfdMPH2bj-_SBWx32J4zGTrgtR4VWay2NC_dnwywKM1QU-CURzNng_bjap-4C-vRibVLhoU05IFLaRYssij6u-Ed3gkts/s320/Hermaphroditus.jpg" width="187" /></a></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is Bodrum, once Halicarnassus, home of the mausoleum. Behind the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">town, hidden in hills of olive and pine, is the spring of Salamcis where the son of Hermes and Aphrodite drank. The heartland of Ionic Greece was already ancient when the Parthenon shone brand-new on the lion coloured rock of the acropolis. Cities old as time ringed the Gulf of Latmos; even then a dying seaway, choked with mud from the Meander River. First Priene and then Milatus were left high and dry. Abandoned since antiquity they provided tourist attractions for Ancient Rome.</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To one side of the silted estuary is Lake Bafa, formed by the tears of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the Moon goddess weeping for the shepherd boy, Endymion. On the other, the city of Miletus, where in the Acts of the Apostles, Saint Paul awaited the Ephesian elders. Once, Lake Bafa was seashore. The freshwater lake only formed when the estuary silted. The men of Heraclea faced with the retreating sea, dug desperate channels, causing seawater to make the lake brackish. Legend says the moon goddess, Selene, was so smitten with Endymion she threatened to forsake the sky. In response, the fearful gods made him sleep for eternity and as she wept for her lost love, she cried a lake. It was a good day in November and Bafa was body warm, we swam and can confirm the water does indeed taste of tears.</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Meander estuary is now a fertile plain. Having never seen it in </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">November we were surprised by hundreds of cotton wool balls littering the roads. It was cotton-pickin’ time. Turkish women, in traditional rural dress of headscarf and baggy trousers, picked tufts of gossamer from branches of stunted, scrawny bushes. It could have been a hundred years ago if not for the huge blocky harvester devouring the adjacent field; it’s parallel rows of vertical teeth leaving only broken, skeletal stalks. In factory courtyards were cotton castles of pearl- grey lint, while caught in the wire of the perimeter fence, grimy candyfloss streamed in the wind. The first stop was the ancient city of Eurymos. All that is left is the Temple of Zeus. We were the only people there. It was like discovering it for the first time, as if we were some Victorian explorers with Sir Richard Burton - the one who translated the Arabian Nights, not the one who married and remarried Elizabeth Taylor.</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The only problem with fantasy is truth. Although sites look undiscovered </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">they are actually the result of extensive excavation. Unexcavated, they are under 2,000 years and at least 20 feet of wind blown soil - like the rest of </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eurymos. One field is the forum and another is the theatre. Each has its </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">herd of indifferent sheep, munching as they have munched for millennia, placidly unaware of their contribution to history, falling out the other end. </span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEBfhaGOSkwk32hc3UDTGAw3Ny2vhci8OWhV2zkN_qt0bAl8wR9746vaPlSE2IXAO2MDJebpgMO_3XdNnB0iWt2ZUrUA-nKViUmpu_au08CJdc1FT3_L-kWIrExpb_wx7HDwcFRpgEgc/s1600/Eurymos-Zeus-painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEBfhaGOSkwk32hc3UDTGAw3Ny2vhci8OWhV2zkN_qt0bAl8wR9746vaPlSE2IXAO2MDJebpgMO_3XdNnB0iWt2ZUrUA-nKViUmpu_au08CJdc1FT3_L-kWIrExpb_wx7HDwcFRpgEgc/s320/Eurymos-Zeus-painting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzK4S7Lkw45MYqtO3KBCJSceQtSA3v6edGtbB2BVgetMMlk8SxAAlxRflFPdVGLo7E7lIpdNcq8_5mCYPov3Lazr4SEfNkxemMYOZJn20jEG7DEj42b8flfUQqxIkxghqqEIvXWp0DcLQ/s1600/Apollo-Columns-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzK4S7Lkw45MYqtO3KBCJSceQtSA3v6edGtbB2BVgetMMlk8SxAAlxRflFPdVGLo7E7lIpdNcq8_5mCYPov3Lazr4SEfNkxemMYOZJn20jEG7DEj42b8flfUQqxIkxghqqEIvXWp0DcLQ/s320/Apollo-Columns-2.jpg" width="179" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The temple of Apollo at Didim was never finished because during the centuries it took to build, Christianity became the state religion and pagan temples were abandoned. It is impossible to convey the sheer size of the site. Nothing is on a human scale, the column bases; the cyclopean stones walls - only a third of their original height. All of it dwarfs you. Awes you. It is like something built by giants. </span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There is a sacred spring in the temple grounds. It had recently rained and the area was marshy. It should have prepared us for what was to come at Miletus…. It didn’t. Here we saw tortoises mating. And it was lucky they were tortoises. When Tiresias saw two snakes copulate, he changed sex. Because of his unique perspective, Zeus and Hera asked Tiresias to settle an argument about who needed love the most. Tiresisa replied that if love had ten parts, women needed nine. Hera was so furious she blinded him. Leaving Zeus to compensate with the dubious gift of second sight.</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Back at the car, we saw a stone placed at the base of a wall. As it was </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">obviously for looking over, we discovered part of the sacred way stretching from Miletus, 26 km away, to the shrines of Apollo and his sister, Artemis. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6ZoGZvMpZAFou-F3WhN4vfN6uDoXaCmeZ9rLN_O4YaMTeU68wSFoHaGp9NLTvyMWhmYDKRhFdpyP616uAPrdDP86HKf99ag95G37nl4w_WHBti2RX3Dk6khGfjutiqpjuJoi-OEECYI/s1600/Sacred-way-Didim-painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6ZoGZvMpZAFou-F3WhN4vfN6uDoXaCmeZ9rLN_O4YaMTeU68wSFoHaGp9NLTvyMWhmYDKRhFdpyP616uAPrdDP86HKf99ag95G37nl4w_WHBti2RX3Dk6khGfjutiqpjuJoi-OEECYI/s640/Sacred-way-Didim-painting.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We had read that Miletus has a fantastic theatre but not much else. Because of this, our friends decided they had had enough of scrambling over ruins and went to the site café, leaving us to explore. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdN5Ehyphenhyphen-g6uP50wYdVELiZhcqeOCrXbzxI5z6sMsotHWUjAJrrIM50T6TrmmGTvORvLOAfv6zYji_gSY6qZg4EXzrK6WDlDz8A7oKx9i5nWgzFIp-F_4VpPYfTjFP0XnNLikLi_WJli8/s1600/Mletus-Theatre-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdN5Ehyphenhyphen-g6uP50wYdVELiZhcqeOCrXbzxI5z6sMsotHWUjAJrrIM50T6TrmmGTvORvLOAfv6zYji_gSY6qZg4EXzrK6WDlDz8A7oKx9i5nWgzFIp-F_4VpPYfTjFP0XnNLikLi_WJli8/s640/Mletus-Theatre-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Reaching the top of the theatre we saw the rest of the city hidden to the side, the wreckage of the harbour mouth monument, now miles inland, the forum, the stoa and senate house lining the start of the sacred way. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJiQyr6CGQa-lURieSpKLYpksN_ok5wmZf7lYZX8gvr4-HzBVRG1XfHXKkbgk49_WaT2fG3TVqEvSVGH7KuHTpDO7koSgcSvFU3D1M46Qic6B7ylgHgnF7dY8VTdx8OqFnhRZxPzOM2ZA/s1600/Miletus-Stoa-and-Sacred-Way.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJiQyr6CGQa-lURieSpKLYpksN_ok5wmZf7lYZX8gvr4-HzBVRG1XfHXKkbgk49_WaT2fG3TVqEvSVGH7KuHTpDO7koSgcSvFU3D1M46Qic6B7ylgHgnF7dY8VTdx8OqFnhRZxPzOM2ZA/s640/Miletus-Stoa-and-Sacred-Way.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The site was boggy and halfway through, mosquitoes attacked. According to the guidebook the café owner was trying to sell our friends, when the Meander River silted up, the city became a malarial swamp and that was </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">another reason it was abandoned. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One of our friends said we came fleeing out of the ruins like Tippi Hedren in “The Birds” – obviously in search of a phone box to shelter in. In our defence, the mosquitoes did seem the size of Hitchcock’s gulls. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our friend Jack is thinking of writing a travel book and, caught up in the idea, has a tendency to pause after each utterance as if waiting for an unseen amanuensis to jot down his musings for posterity, which is probably not far from the truth as he is committing the phrase to memory for future use. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztFaRXQjOSQkLq6SfVOIL4onPNKL6st5ViMNCVX58BwKrs4Ic2zMR3BVGauh924BujME5SkGjXMi_zYI80dCFTLOx1RV1zv0_klAAziwa40hPhOYgEAudY7V7zvhSz3yrdA1N238-MdU/s1600/Priene-hera-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztFaRXQjOSQkLq6SfVOIL4onPNKL6st5ViMNCVX58BwKrs4Ic2zMR3BVGauh924BujME5SkGjXMi_zYI80dCFTLOx1RV1zv0_klAAziwa40hPhOYgEAudY7V7zvhSz3yrdA1N238-MdU/s320/Priene-hera-2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From Miletus we drove through the alluvial plain to Priene, crossing the mighty Meander, now tamed to the size of the Regent’s Canal. Approaching the site, we saw the remaining columns of the Temple of Hera on the hillside and a ruin-lined road snaking down to the old port, now farmer’s fields. </span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Priene is another huge area of tumbled stones, smashed columns and fractured walls sheltering under black cypress and pine. Unchanged since the time of Caesar and Christ, the view across the plain takes your breath away.</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8blJWw62luoo2zATJgBGdEXCbY0SjVS_ofVBWiLzAEnUU2Xv0Gs7UJbLH-MBYmTm_54XXCwHH-Mu9annfLPBytCqdyT08ssKQ1sHXKLnElJgVHTt0lVyMoy-gMbhALKndtqfWfIb4TA/s1600/Priene-Old-Dock-Road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8blJWw62luoo2zATJgBGdEXCbY0SjVS_ofVBWiLzAEnUU2Xv0Gs7UJbLH-MBYmTm_54XXCwHH-Mu9annfLPBytCqdyT08ssKQ1sHXKLnElJgVHTt0lVyMoy-gMbhALKndtqfWfIb4TA/s320/Priene-Old-Dock-Road.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The next morning, no doubt due to a sleepless night of trying not to </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">scratch souvenir mosquito bites, we were up at daybreak. Duly covered up like Turkish cotton pickers, we walked down to the lakeside to watch the full moon turn the far water silver, while the light bringer, Lucifer, the morning star, ushered in a dawn of lemon and rose – the flavours of Turkish Delight.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqWE7o0Dy3_UBpDakAjGEadpod6EAzexr8k3YZrzDwuhRSVPS0ARbBh5HY6fjKnTGhsOPJCTh1bDH6WhrQdV7yjj3WX1on0Jkwv4RWI96u2CGIJIoK7d_39yIGaRenTXPo-g0KP0NnEdk/s1600/Sunrise-at-Bafa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqWE7o0Dy3_UBpDakAjGEadpod6EAzexr8k3YZrzDwuhRSVPS0ARbBh5HY6fjKnTGhsOPJCTh1bDH6WhrQdV7yjj3WX1on0Jkwv4RWI96u2CGIJIoK7d_39yIGaRenTXPo-g0KP0NnEdk/s400/Sunrise-at-Bafa.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The rest of Paul's enhanced photos of Didim, Miletus and Priene and extensive</span></span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">footnotes can be found on Flickr at </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000099;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/book-drawings/sets/72157625509728092/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/book-drawings/sets/72157625509728092/</span></a></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His nove</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">l </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Thomas the Rhymer </i>- 'A children's story for adults' can be downloaded from his </span><a href="http://www.jackhughesbooks.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">website</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></div><div style="color: #000099; font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div>Philip Reevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03018599033534369153noreply@blogger.com1