very crucial scene that stiches things I have been reading recently all together
one racist-leaning skinhead asks a Jamaican rude boy who belongs in a non-political skin head group whether he feels himself to be Jamaican or English. After hesitation the boy says 'English' and then the racist skinhead applauds him and goes on a diatribe about 3.5 million Pakis infesting England, living in council flats, in a country that fought to keep out the enemy through two world wars, and that this boy should be proud to call himself English.
an Englishness defined against the Germans (the two world wars) and Pakis (taking up jobs and flats), and the boy of Jamaican origin is welcomed into the fold possibly because he is considered to be part of the history described in A Small Island, good Jamaicans protecting the mother country against Germans.
the Faulklands victory is portrayed as empty, the last attempt to define some national identity, and the vacuum is then underlined by Saun throwing St. George's Cross into the sea....
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
12 July 2007
Visit to Trakai
My history as
a series of Stalinesque manouvers
from this side of the Urals
to that
standing in the rain
looking at his iron face at a shop window
huddled in my Gestapo coat
was my rude introduction
to uncle Joe
to be repeated
with a difference
over the rolling hills of England,
through the lakesides of the Baltic,
and along the banks of the Rhein
Visit to Trakai
My history as
a series of Stalinesque manouvers
from this side of the Urals
to that
standing in the rain
looking at his iron face at a shop window
huddled in my Gestapo coat
was my rude introduction
to uncle Joe
to be repeated
with a difference
over the rolling hills of England,
through the lakesides of the Baltic,
and along the banks of the Rhein
Summer Reads
The Islamist
Volumes to be said about this one. Started its life (for me) on a rainy day in a pub in Shepherd's Bush. Resisted it for a while and then succumbed, and now happy about it. Accompanied me in Damascus and my observations there- good investment. Very acute observations, however some very naive. That is the main problem of the book- it's thoroughness is unbalanced. Some observations are very superficial and stereotypical while others go in depth. Appreciated the Saudi Arabia bit. It's insistence on calling the British Intelligence to more vigilance when it comes to Muslims makes it read like an informants report- which is a real shame because it does offer a very interesting snapshot of Islamist movements in London. Eye-opener for a hill-billy from Oxford. To be consulted for my upcoming definition for 'British Muslim' and worse 'British Muslim Novel'.
Bizi Bırakıp Nereye Gidiyorsun Türk (memoirs of a Turkish officer in Syria and Palestine)
Not Seven Pillars of Wisdom but hey! Considerably shorter and very heavy on unit manoevres, now and then cultural clash with the Arabs, with the protagonist falling ill now and then, which hit home with girls running with high fever in the house in Zabadani, and no one got spared the diarrhea. There's also a curious meeting with T.E. Lawrence where he offers him money but of course the Turk refuses. But the best is the passage where he is trying to convince bedouins that he knows more about Islam then they do. He devises a contest and beats them all :-)
The Pickup
Book read on promise. The reward was the unexpected reference to Shahrour, and through Göle, of all people! So Shahrour has entered main stream, although word on the Damascene street is that he is a scoundrel, and how can you trust your eyes with a dentist? (and this coming from a half-blind man, so one has to mark his words) Here I am looking at how Rhys plays with subjectivity in her novels and comes Gordimer with her bag of tricks, I mean, Rhys looks so elementary after that, I may as well throw the diss into the bin. Very cross with Gordimer. I did not like the protagonist(in), her motives were a bit too vague whereas the 'Middleeastern' (Syrian? Yemeni?) guy looked much more believable. This 'ethical turn' in the South African novel was also there, with the sexual harassment case. Who can say which country belongs to whom blah blah blah
Ahmet Mithat Efendi Avrupa'da
The father of the Turkish novel visits the Stockholm Exhibition, and then takes off to Paris with a married Russia woman, to discover the similarities between the two cultures--- well, both lagging behind Europe it turns out, but unspoilt human nature etc. etc. Madame Gulnar (her pen name) speaks perfect Ottoman Turkish and translates Pushkin into Turkish. So another to be reckoned with in the Utrecht database (make a mental note!) Of course far more progressed than the 'Orient', Ahmet Mithat finds little fault with the orientalists' treatment of, say, Egypt. Anyway, orientals at the time were not quite so militant about correcting misconceptions. Where did all this laissez-faire go? *sigh*
Sweetness in the Belly
An Irish girl brought up in a shrine in Morocco spends her youth in Harar. Now despite the improbable story-line, the protagonist was much more believable. I really like the idea of a sufi order around Bilal Habeshi, it turns out it is Camilla Gibb's brain child. Probably not Muslim herself. Again the question. Does the British Muslim novel have to be written by a Muslim? Or is it enough that the narrator or the focalizer is Muslim?
Small Island
Started in an overcast June day in a basement kitchen and ended on the beach facing Chios. The bits in Jamaica were really nice and chimed in with Rhys's descriptions, me feeling I'm doing something for the diss. What a wonderful 'founding myth'. I am tempted to write to one for British muslims. Did they fight in WW2? where can I get such info? (maybe yahoo questions) does a community need to have fought in WW2 to be considered to have contributed to the 'nation'? I enjoyed even the jungle bits, which I would not have had I not spent my last hours in Istanbul watching 3 episodes of Lost back to back!
Homo Faber
Thanks to Merle. Had I not been sent this book, Max Frisch would have remained as the writer of Biederman und die Brandstifter. What rubbish! Anyway, now he's a cross between Isherwood and Auster in my mind. Kept thinking of Neubauer as I read the book and my terrible gaffe. Again relished the plane bauch-landing bits no doubt due to my Lost-mania. There's almost a touch of McEwan as well, with him introducing scenes and unravelling what they mean slowly afterwards.
Maze
Greek writer based in London. Looked promising but again a novel about troup movements with not much to lighten the page--- certain aphorisms about the end of the Ottoman Empire. Text book. Will probably ditch it for Hanan ak-Shaykh's Only in London in my search for the British Muslim novel.
Volumes to be said about this one. Started its life (for me) on a rainy day in a pub in Shepherd's Bush. Resisted it for a while and then succumbed, and now happy about it. Accompanied me in Damascus and my observations there- good investment. Very acute observations, however some very naive. That is the main problem of the book- it's thoroughness is unbalanced. Some observations are very superficial and stereotypical while others go in depth. Appreciated the Saudi Arabia bit. It's insistence on calling the British Intelligence to more vigilance when it comes to Muslims makes it read like an informants report- which is a real shame because it does offer a very interesting snapshot of Islamist movements in London. Eye-opener for a hill-billy from Oxford. To be consulted for my upcoming definition for 'British Muslim' and worse 'British Muslim Novel'.
Bizi Bırakıp Nereye Gidiyorsun Türk (memoirs of a Turkish officer in Syria and Palestine)
Not Seven Pillars of Wisdom but hey! Considerably shorter and very heavy on unit manoevres, now and then cultural clash with the Arabs, with the protagonist falling ill now and then, which hit home with girls running with high fever in the house in Zabadani, and no one got spared the diarrhea. There's also a curious meeting with T.E. Lawrence where he offers him money but of course the Turk refuses. But the best is the passage where he is trying to convince bedouins that he knows more about Islam then they do. He devises a contest and beats them all :-)
The Pickup
Book read on promise. The reward was the unexpected reference to Shahrour, and through Göle, of all people! So Shahrour has entered main stream, although word on the Damascene street is that he is a scoundrel, and how can you trust your eyes with a dentist? (and this coming from a half-blind man, so one has to mark his words) Here I am looking at how Rhys plays with subjectivity in her novels and comes Gordimer with her bag of tricks, I mean, Rhys looks so elementary after that, I may as well throw the diss into the bin. Very cross with Gordimer. I did not like the protagonist(in), her motives were a bit too vague whereas the 'Middleeastern' (Syrian? Yemeni?) guy looked much more believable. This 'ethical turn' in the South African novel was also there, with the sexual harassment case. Who can say which country belongs to whom blah blah blah
Ahmet Mithat Efendi Avrupa'da
The father of the Turkish novel visits the Stockholm Exhibition, and then takes off to Paris with a married Russia woman, to discover the similarities between the two cultures--- well, both lagging behind Europe it turns out, but unspoilt human nature etc. etc. Madame Gulnar (her pen name) speaks perfect Ottoman Turkish and translates Pushkin into Turkish. So another to be reckoned with in the Utrecht database (make a mental note!) Of course far more progressed than the 'Orient', Ahmet Mithat finds little fault with the orientalists' treatment of, say, Egypt. Anyway, orientals at the time were not quite so militant about correcting misconceptions. Where did all this laissez-faire go? *sigh*
Sweetness in the Belly
An Irish girl brought up in a shrine in Morocco spends her youth in Harar. Now despite the improbable story-line, the protagonist was much more believable. I really like the idea of a sufi order around Bilal Habeshi, it turns out it is Camilla Gibb's brain child. Probably not Muslim herself. Again the question. Does the British Muslim novel have to be written by a Muslim? Or is it enough that the narrator or the focalizer is Muslim?
Small Island
Started in an overcast June day in a basement kitchen and ended on the beach facing Chios. The bits in Jamaica were really nice and chimed in with Rhys's descriptions, me feeling I'm doing something for the diss. What a wonderful 'founding myth'. I am tempted to write to one for British muslims. Did they fight in WW2? where can I get such info? (maybe yahoo questions) does a community need to have fought in WW2 to be considered to have contributed to the 'nation'? I enjoyed even the jungle bits, which I would not have had I not spent my last hours in Istanbul watching 3 episodes of Lost back to back!
Homo Faber
Thanks to Merle. Had I not been sent this book, Max Frisch would have remained as the writer of Biederman und die Brandstifter. What rubbish! Anyway, now he's a cross between Isherwood and Auster in my mind. Kept thinking of Neubauer as I read the book and my terrible gaffe. Again relished the plane bauch-landing bits no doubt due to my Lost-mania. There's almost a touch of McEwan as well, with him introducing scenes and unravelling what they mean slowly afterwards.
Maze
Greek writer based in London. Looked promising but again a novel about troup movements with not much to lighten the page--- certain aphorisms about the end of the Ottoman Empire. Text book. Will probably ditch it for Hanan ak-Shaykh's Only in London in my search for the British Muslim novel.
the road from Damascus
It was not the same thing.
The grass was thousand feet below and we were watching it from the plane rather than our backs on it looking upwards comfortably to see the craft.
We were not talking about Isherwood and Auden.
We were talking about Eliot and his poems with an oriental theme, the journey of the Magi and one other with a very long title which he had read and I not. We complained about Lonely Planet and impressed each other with our educated questions. So what are the Mosarabs? what is the difference between the Sunnis and Shiites? do you celebrate the Reconquista? what do you say on your rosary?
and then he told me where he came from they did not celebrate the Reconquista but the battle of Lepanto, where Cervantes had lost a hand and then I had to recommend White Castle. But they did play Moors and Spaniards alright, each family having chosen their side quite some time ago and sticking to it no matter what.
The strange sensation of speaking once again.
The grass was thousand feet below and we were watching it from the plane rather than our backs on it looking upwards comfortably to see the craft.
We were not talking about Isherwood and Auden.
We were talking about Eliot and his poems with an oriental theme, the journey of the Magi and one other with a very long title which he had read and I not. We complained about Lonely Planet and impressed each other with our educated questions. So what are the Mosarabs? what is the difference between the Sunnis and Shiites? do you celebrate the Reconquista? what do you say on your rosary?
and then he told me where he came from they did not celebrate the Reconquista but the battle of Lepanto, where Cervantes had lost a hand and then I had to recommend White Castle. But they did play Moors and Spaniards alright, each family having chosen their side quite some time ago and sticking to it no matter what.
The strange sensation of speaking once again.
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