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Saturday 21 January 2012

Re-reading Rushdie



After Salman Rushdie's withdrawing from a Jaipur literary festival due to Muslim protests, I thought I'd re-examine the man. He was reported as saying that assassins may have been on the way to Jaipur to kill him.

In protest of this, four authors read passages from Rushdie's banned novel, The Satanic Verses. Hari Kunzru, Amitava Kumar, Jeet Thayil and Ruchir Joshi have now too been asked to leave the festival so as not to endanger themselves or present a risk to other festival goers.

Rushdie's writing career began in advertising, and his first work, Grimus, went largely ignored by the literary world. This is no surprise to me: it's a strange, dark novel centred on magic realism. Other than knowing that I've read it, I can't really remember any specific details about it, except that there were some enchantments going on, and a mountain (maybe not even a big one). As you can tell from the title, which is the protagonist's name, it was not really geared to connect immediately with an Indian or Western audience. Not a very memorable work.

His next was the absolute breakthrough. Midnight's Children saluted the complexities of Indian political history, the histronics of family, the endearing qualities of a range of young characters with fascinating 'mutant' powers, and the glory of chutney. There was only a tiny wee peek of misogyny.

He then wrote Shame, a study of political turmoil in Pakistan, which followed the similar themes of postcolonialism and immigrant perspectives in Midnight's Children. Then there was the non-fiction The Jaguar Smile, based on his first-hand experiences in Nicaragua at the scene of Sandinista political experiments.

He has written many novels in the intervening years, but it was the next which would change his life. The Satanic Verses, published in 1988, was well-received in the UK, but immediately after its publication, the novel was banned in India because of it's perceived insults to the Muslim faith. Within the story, which involves two expatriates living in England, is a re-narration of Mohammed's life, which is seen as the section most potentially insulting to Muslims. As with all Rushdie, it is dense, referential, and constantly set in the soupy lyricism of magic realism. The passages which refer indirectly to Mohammed (as Mahmud or The Messenger) are literal dream sequences. The book's publication led to a fatwa, asking for Rushdie's death, from the Iranian leader, Ayatollah Ruohollah Khomeini, and Rushdie subsequently went into hiding in England to avoid assassination.

The title The Satanic Verses refers to the Qur'anic verses which supposedly allowed prayers to be made to three Pagan Meccan goddesses: Allat, Uzzah, and Manat. The verses were apparently included in the Qur'an by Mohammed, who was tricked into referring to the three goddesses, thus deferring from his monotheism, by Satan. Mohammed was said to take back the words, and the reference was eventually removed from the Qur'an. Scholarly views and reactions as to whether the verses actually existed or are truly damaging to the Muslim faith vary.

The novel may never have acheived such notoreity had it not touched upon these issues, which were previously merely the centre of religious debate. Khomeini claimed that the book blasphemed against Mohammed and his wives, although Rushdie himself stated that the book was about "migration, metomorphosis, divided selves, love, death, London and Bombay."

Personally I feel that most of Rushdie's works are a mixture of reflection and love letter to his origins and current expatriate status. It is rare that an author integrates religion, history and politics so successfully into what are usually highly personal and intimate narratives. This is a true expression of Rushdie's fascination with the rich past of his country, and his interest in the place of romantic mysticism in the modern world. His intellect creates the dislocated veil through which he views and engineers all of these happenings into his own dialectic, and his success lies in this ability to add a brutally comic edge to it all.

As Khomeini has since died, the fatwa can never be rescinded. Life imitates art, I suppose.

Wednesday 18 January 2012

Classic Horror Campaign again

I have also had another review published on the wonderful Classic Horror CampaignLink website.

Incidentally, did you know that the word 'campaign' is drawn from the French for countryside, campagne, which is taken from the Latin for field, campus. The best soldiers in the field were campiones, from which we get 'champions'. From there you also get 'camp' in both senses: first the army who pitched their tents, and then the women of ill-repute who were camp followers, plying certain wares. After a while, to be wearing too much make-up and having illicit sexual encounters was referred to as camp as well. Very Brighton.

Monday 16 January 2012

Internship!

I am writing things for The South African. It is quite fun.Link

Friday 13 January 2012

What Is the Problem Here?

Should libraries be run by volunteers? Who would these volunteers be? When I hear that someone on full-time JSA has been forced to work in a Poundsaver rather than continue to volunteer in a museum, I can’t help but think everyone is missing a trick. Libraries would teach customer skills, for people from all walks of life. Libraries are one of the only places you are guaranteed to encounter young graduates, foreign students, the elderly, parents and their children. There is a space for everyone. Libraries mean regular access to computers, furthering rudimentary computing skills and having a chance to search for jobs in the meantime. Libraries mean social interaction and the possibility of meeting someone who could help you towards your ideal job. A librarian is helping run a business, maintain a workspace, upkeep a database, and look after extensive physical records. It is a full gamut of social and practical tasks that any jobseeker would benefit from.

The debate continues to rage over the future of libraries. Are people really harbouring that much disinterest? When I was at school, generally it was accepted that children don’t like reading, and England was forever doomed to be a race of illiterates. I had few friends, because I preferred books, and I still love books, dearly.

Within the publishing world, people have been slow to respond to e-readers. The main issue is the dramatic drop in price which the reader implies for a publication, and the fact that people are very good at getting hold of these things for free. But I don’t see how e-readers can possibly threaten books in the long run. Not everything is available on e-reader, certainly not the obscure things I occasionally decide I want. I will always relish strolling aisles and simply looking, trying to find something I haven’t seen before, or something I had forgotten I had wanted. I also love graphic novels, and an e-reader has a long way to go before it can hope to capture the brilliance of a fully-inked double-page spread by Alan Moore or Garth Ennis.

I also feel that within Universities, e-readers could be embraced as a way to cut students’ costs, by making more of the syllabus directly available on a reader. The Uni loans you the reader and so doesn’t risk its own textbooks, and you have no excuse for not owning (or doing) the reading. This is a basic idea and I have no real knowledge of whether it could be successfully implemented, but for a science student the idea could save them hundreds of pounds in textbooks they may never use again, and mean that the most recent edition was readily available.

I hear you cry, what about physical books? What about libraries as actual spaces of reverence for knowledge? What about musty old bookshops and charity shops full of books that were trendy a month ago? I still use all of those. A library is far from just a place for books, and this is what most people are really fighting against. It is a social centre, somewhere to take your children: many have coffee shops now as well as study areas, they rent DVDs and music, you can check newspaper archives, or gain access to a computer.

In people’s fear of abandoning physical books they seem to forget that the community already reading out there will never stop. I never leave my e-reader behind, but I mainly use it as a Dictionary and a study aid. I read the news on my phone. When I want to relax, I pick up a book. E-readers, like mp3 players, may be heading towards prevalence, but I don’t know many people who have one yet. At present, unless you are able to hack yours into some kind off catch-all uber-reader, they are the equivalent of a calculator for an accountant: if you really feel you need it, it’s there, but there are plenty of other options for the less fanatical.

People thought the mp3, and the piracy thereof, was going to kill music. But everyone I know owns coveted collections of tapes, CDs, or vinyl. And still buys them. And as far as I’m aware, the music industry is still doing okay. In fact last year saw the advent of such a saturation of music festivals in the UK that there weren’t enough fans to go around. Culture fluctuates with the times, but those that support it stand firm in their bewilderment at the mass-panic of the ‘death of …’. Project Gutenberg is an example of people embracing e-readers. They work to digitise books on which the copyright has run out: previously published items that may never be re-printed. Items that you might have never had a chance to see. Cruising Project Gutenberg is almost like walking through a huge antique bookshop, and the thrill of the hunt remains. As with many websites, they rely on donation from their users: this has never proved a problem.

The only way may be to embrace it. Industrialisation is inevitable, but access to literature is vital.

Monday 9 January 2012

Knitty Gritty

People keep asking me for help with their knitting, although I am a gross amateur myself. As I probably won't get all of you in the same room for some time, I recommend YouTube for a dearth of knitting instruction videos. To start you off, here's how to Cast On:



And how to carry on in Stocking Stitch:



Sorry for bad sound on the second one but I thought it was a particularly informative video. Also I have a huge stock of needles so if anyone does want to practise in person, give me a DM. Happy Knitting!

Sunday 8 January 2012

Wednesday 4 January 2012

String Quartet Cover of the Pixies



Alright, so, brought to my attention by the Kinect advert currently doing the rounds. But it's the timing that does it for me above all in this song. The brief intake of 'breath' right after the first chorus (caesura), and the translation of Kim's faint vocals into a literal instrument only stress how the Pixies schooled the rest of us in songwriting from day one. The quiet-loud dynamic in its ultimate form.

New Year's Resolution - SEE MORE MUSIC!!!!

By Any Other Name

Sorry to start with an Uber-quote, ie a quotation so overly quoted that it has metastasised into its own product and spawned endless self-edifying titles and pops at the original. But that’s what I’m interested in talking about.

Hockney’s sly jab at Hirst seems to have come from nowhere. Not that I was aware of any history between them. Is there some growing factionalism between painters and conceptual sculptors? I feel I must stress that Hockney talks about painting and caftmanship. Hirst has exhibited some paintings, and was lauded for it. By comparison, those pieces which are exhibited worldwide, generally not created under his own hand, have provoked shock and, to use the hackneyed follow-up, awe. Aside from the other debate I would have about the cash value ascribed to these things (part of what makes art elitist is the monetary aspect), their capacity to inspire and generally freak out the public is an important one. An overblown gesture is never a harmful one, in any perceivable artistic movement: Hirst was the Lady Gaga of the 90s, not appearing to show others up, but entirely redefining how things were done. Who cares if her image is carefully built around her by a million designers, make-up artists and vocal engineers?

Hirst, likewise, employs the Warholian tactic of an absurdly ramped-up persona, image and entourage. And many will use this in his defence no doubt, as The Factory produced fantastic work, and again, altered how things were done. What about Matisse, whose old age required assistants to create his final, gloriously child-like cut-and-paste works? Or the Sistine Chapel, largely created by Michelangelo but finished in sections by several other painters?

Hockney is speaking about painting. To him, art is a creative process done by one person and one person alone. That is what is revolutionary about Hirst, and the reason that people sit up and pay attention. This is not an issue of who is the greater artist or even what you like: this is an ‘how is art made’ issue, another part of the overall ‘what is art debate’ that is perhaps more biased towards those who really want to stick their oar in as professionals of the trade. I haven’t seen comment from Hirst because I don’t think he feels the need to make any. The global impact of his work has now more than paralleled any made by Hockney in the 60s, and while Hirst continues to shock and dazzle, Hockney has taken the route of what he might deem “true artistry” and continued devotedly down his own creative path. Whether or not either of them is an artist is open to interpretation.

I recently came across a book called The Best Art You’ve Never Seen. It is art you’ve never seen because it is not internationally lauded, it does not go on tour, it may be inaccessible to the public, and generally there is a fairly substantial problem with getting to see it in the first place. Another bold statement made by the author is that art is only a sacrosanct item to our modern eyes, or rather, it has only gained the extra value placed on something deemed as ‘art’ by a Westernised culture. Hence, much of the art we have left, and many of the pieces remaining in the book, survived ultimately due to their obscurity, being hidden from the elements or any other potentially destructive factors, such as rival tribes or religious groups.

The pieces you get to see are breathtaking because of the history they reveal and the knowledge they bestow: that humanity has always created, to a level of skill and technicality that would surprise many, and with a passion devoid of alliance and motivation. One thing we often do not know about these pieces is, who the artists were. A lot of these great historical works are unrecognised because they were created by a name long lost to history, a person whose pieces do not sell for benchmark prices and who never owned their own nightclub (probably). They may have been created by groups of people and we my never be certain of the purpose of their creation. So maybe Hockney could take solace in the fact that his works will be recognisably bound together by their distinctive style, and by his signature in the corner. And Hirst can know that the weight of his fame is what has brought about a series of fantastical conceptual objects, objects which make people squirm. In several centuries’ time, they may both be well remembered. That is the signature of an artist.