To The Manor Born

 Following on from 'The Good Life' (see previous post), I have watched a later UK sitcom, 'To The Manor Born'.

Like 'The Good Life', this one features the actress Penelope Keith, this time in the main role.

The first episode begins in the aftermath of the death of Mr fforbes-Hamilton, the 'lord of the manor' of Grantleigh. It is discovered that the estate's finances are in a parlous state, obliging the widow Audrey to sell up to a wealthy business tycoon, Richard DeVere. The ensuing story-lines generally explore the relationship between Audrey and Richard, with the former desirous of a return to her former status and her family's old possessions.

Beyond the main narrative, there are strands of meaning which are intriguing. The main topic is arguably 'new money versus old money', but upon closer analysis the reckoning is more complicated and more uneven. 

On the face of it, Audrey does not come across as the most sympathetic of characters, even more so through a 21st century lens. She is snobbish, and some of her attitudes appear reactionary and hidebound. and she is seemingly oblivious of how social and technological changes are benefiting the masses, if not her own social stratum. However, she is loyal to the local people, including those who had worked on her family's estate for many years. Some of those people feel threatened by the regime initiated by the new owner. 

Whilst the estate seems like a relic from a bygone, feudal age, we feel sympathy for those potentially uprooted by the new, aggressive commercial age. This ambiguity is to me at the heart of the interest in 'To The Manor Born'. Episodes which examine these themes include ' Tramps and Poachers' and 'The New Farm Manager'.

Penelope Keith is excellent and authoritative as Audrey, and it is interesting to compare Audrey with Margo Leadbetter, the character played by Keith in 'The Good Life'. Whilst Margo had relatively little to be snobbish about, and was a social climber, Audrey has fallen in social standing, and often feels bemused by the shifting order of things around her. 

As a character, Richard DeVere is somewhat nebulous. A self-made person, but not necessarily of the thrusting 'vulgar' sort we became accustomed to during the 1980s. Peter Bowles gives a measured performance in the type of part at which he excelled.

Some of the other characters are more immediately likeable. Marjory, Audrey's life-long friend, is a notable contrast in her diffidence and unworldliness . Played by the excellent Angela Thorne, she illustrates how enduring friendships are not always composed of people with matching traits and temperaments.

Brabinger, Audrey's long-serving butler, supplies some droll comic touches. Ned, the long-standing estate labourer, typifies the type of person to whom Audrey feels loyalty, even if some of his behaviour seems coarse and gormless. He is decent and harmless, an innocent in many respects, and we instinctively feel empathy with him and his potential plight.

Maybe this is just my heightened sensitivity to such matters, but the pettiness of convention and protocol which is often depicted in the show is a real standout. People missing the important human choices because of an almost habitual adherence to outmoded customs and formalities. One trusts that these practices have now disappeared, if only in some cases supplanted by other, more pernicious and genuinely harmful means of lording it over the "lower orders". Ritual is ultimately less damaging than cold, practical reality.

In one episode, 'Connections In High Places', we actually put ourselves on DeVere's side, as his position in his companies is imperilled by public school types who impugn him as an outsider, partly on account of his foreign roots and his lack of traditional social status. Audrey helps him out, but even there her motives might not have been entirely pure or selfless. Again, these intricacies enhance the show.

I can appreciate how 'To The Manor Born' would irritate those of a left-wing or liberal persuasion, with on the one hand the landed gentry and on the other the pushy tycoons calling the shots. I would see myself as centre-left these days, but I was able to pick out areas for interest and discussion without too much rancour or unease. And I don't necessarily think that the writer and the programme-makers were endorsing any social structures, one way or the other. 

Some of the humour is (mildly) satirical, gently poking fun at outdated attitudes. It is easy to read too much into these things - it was intended primarily as entertainment, after all - and on another level we should just enjoy the show.

One thing I would say is that the show has not aged well. It is not timeless like some other great British sitcoms, and younger viewers in this century would not find it attractive. On a deeper level, though, its themes of community, economic security and loyalty might just be useful and instructive.

The Good Life

 Recently I have been watching some old British sitcoms, courtesy of the BBC's iPlayer. One which stood out, and which I felt warranted a re-appraisal, was 'The Good Life' (written by John Esmonde and Bob Larbey), which was made and originally broadcast in the mid-to-late 1970s. Showing my age, I confess to having watched some of the episodes when they were first broadcast, although a lot of the subject matter rather went over my head back then.

For those who do not know, the show is set in the affluent suburb of Surbiton in southern England,  and focuses on two middle-class couples, the Goods (Tom and Barbara) and the Leadbetters (Jerry and Margo) who reside in adjacent dwellings. At the outset of the series, Tom Good and Jerry Leadbetter work for the same company. However, Tom is undergoing a crisis of identity and dissatisfaction with life and career. 

Tom and Barbara, who appear more liberal and free-wheeling than Jerry and Margo, decide on a radical course, proposing to drop out of the rat-race, and enter into a lifestyle of self-sufficiency. They grow and produce their own food, making their own clothes, and eschewing many of the luxuries and conveniences to which they had become accustomed. Tom resigns from his job. Despite their differing and diverging attitudes, the Goods and the Leadbetters remain close friends.

The basic "situation" of 'The Good Life' is a large part of what makes this a valuable sitcom. The writing and the snappy, sophisticated dialogue, are a cut above many of the contemporary mainstream shows, mixing the profound and the comic to sound effect. The material is intelligent and gently thought-provoking, if not as surreal as 'The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin', from the same era, which has some overlap with 'The Good Life'.

The writing, therefore, is subtle, especially in its examination of the relationship between the Goods and the Leadbetters, but I think that this comedy is also raised to different level by the quality of the acting, more specifically the performances of the four main players - Richard Briers (Tom), Felicity Kendal(Barbara), Penelope Keith (Margo) and Paul Eddington (Jerry), all of whom went on to have successful careers off the back of 'The Good Life'.

The "banter" between Tom and Barbara is a delight, and Briers and Kendal clearly had great chemistry. One can see how the Goods would have become a couple in the first place, bonded in part by a quirky sense of humour and philosophy of life. The exchanges between the two characters are therefore quite believable, as well as engaging.

Much of the "tension" in the programme arises from the interaction between Margo and the Goods. Margo's social attitudes, characterised by snobbishness and haughtiness, put her at odds with Tom and Barbara's more laid-back and irreverent world-view, although she appears to value their friendship, and retains a soft spot for Barbara. Margo's concern for the impact on Barbara of the self-sufficiency drive illustrates the subtlety of the writing; whilst Margo appears to slightly misinterpret Barbara's position, her misgivings are not wholly misplaced, given Tom's occasional flights of fancy. 

In the role of Margo, Penelope Keith's presence and flair for comedy in its broadest sense are important factors. Whilst the character of Margo can be seen as an "antagonist" to some degree, and her attitudes to self-sufficiency sometimes come off as condescending and supercilious, self-interested on occasion, there are shades of grey in there, and we are not asked to unreservedly endorse the self-sufficiency project. Margo's husband Jerry is rather caught in the middle of all this, and his character is nicely ambiguous, with his views on the Goods' endeavours often complicated by his disagreements with his wife.

In amongst the comedy, there is ample realism and pathos. Tom and Barbara's constant struggles - financial, moral and emotional -  are very well documented, and the scripts do not pretend that this self-sufficiency enterprise is all plain sailing or without flaw or contradiction.

The timing of 'The Good Life' is intriguing. Emerging in the mid-1970s, it followed on from the 1960s counter-culture and the hippie movement, and pre-dated the full flowering of the ecological movement. I am sure that if a similar show was made today, Tom and Barbara would be vegetarians or vegans. It is also poignant to reflect that such a departure as initiated by the Goods, at least in an urban area, would not be feasible nowadays, because of the increasing regulation and conformism of people and society.

One optimistic aspect of 'The Good Life' is that it depicts people with differing values or attitudes remaining friendly, co-operating and interacting relatively organically and genuinely. Again, one wonders whether a modern-day equivalent of the show would fall victim to the temptation to place the two couples fundamentally at odds. The cultural landscape of the 1970s perhaps permitted more finesse and pragmatism.

My sense is that the efficacy or otherwise of Tom and Barbara's "experiment" is left unresolved. We applaud their courage, vision and resourcefulness, but worry about their naivete and idealism. Perhaps the writers were simply pointing out that there is no simple answer or solution to these questions, and of course it is debatable whether the Goods were really trying to change the world at all - their actions were a personal matter,influenced by their own circumstances, and in one episode in particular Tom is keen to play down any suggestion that he is some sort of guru or social philosopher. 

In its astute balancing of the salient topics, 'The Good Life' was a brave and enjoyable attempt to put these ideas and issues out there, without being too portentous.

Yesterday (2019 film)

 It recently occurred to me that, even as a very keen and longstanding fan of The Beatles, I had still not seen the 2019 "Beatles-themed" film 'Yesterday', directed by Danny Boyle. Anyway, I finally put this to rights, and thought I would offer a few thoughts on the movie.

The basic premise of the story is that Jack Malik, a struggling singer-songwriter, is involved in a traffic accident, following which he transfers to some alternate reality, an alternate reality where the music of The Beatles has never been heard. He then, in effect, passes off The Beatles' songs as his own compositions, and becomes a global sensation.

However unlikely and "frothy" the film is in its implementation, it does have its positives. The Jack Malik character is relatable and likeable, and these elements are well brought out by Himesh Patel's performance. Some of the other characters, especially Jack's friends, are likeable too.

This possesses many of the characteristics of the romantic-comedy genre, but with added surrealism and strangeness. As with many other modern movies, it contains too much CGI and "artificiality" for my own tastes, although I appreciate that not everyone is overly bothered about these things. When visuals start to become less organic, my interest wavers.

One of the (minor) issues I had with 'Yesterday' was the essence of the storyline. As a lover of the music of the Fab Four, I found it troublesome and elusive to grasp the idea, as The Beatles are so ubiquitous and pervasive in our culture and in my own psyche. That said, it is quite cute and touching to see the music portrayed as being heard for the first time. 

The decision to base Jack in deepest Suffolk was a sound one, and makes this a bit different from other similar British films, which tend to be rather London-centric. Ed Sheeran's role wasn't quite as irritating and cliched as I might have suspected.

It is a difficult film to sum up; it is neither particularly hard-edged or excessively corny. "Quirky" is possibly a good term to use. Perhaps I should just learn to accept relatively undemanding culture on its own terms, rather than insisting that it should always say something profound or enlightening.....

Bleak House - Charles Dickens

 I have, in the not too distant past, discovered a new-found enthusiasm for the novels of Charles Dickens, partly because the subject matter of his works dovetails significantly with some of my own latter-day philosophical preoccupations.

The next instalment in my odyssey was 'Bleak House'. I selected this particular work on the strength of write-ups and reviews, but I was still a little unsure what to expect. 

One notable aspect of the novel, and one which some people might find disconcerting, is the dual first-person/third-person narrative format. Personally, I did not find this to be any great inconvenience, and in some ways it enlivened the reading experience, because of the novelty and variety which it affords.

The centrepiece of the story, around which orbit the assorted characters and sub-plots, is a long-running, seemingly interminable legal case in the Court of Chancery. The case is tortuous and intricate to put it mildly, and a large portion of Dickens' purpose is to illuminate and impugn the perceived iniquities and flaws in the judicial system of the time.

The first-person narrator is Esther. She is, by and large, a sympathetic character, even if modern audiences would possibly wish her to be less "passive".  Esther's telling of her story is fluent and relatable, in contrast to the more flowery or obscure nature of parts of the third-person narrative. The thought has occurred to me whether Esther was intended as some kind of "idealized" person, to set against the murkier and more equivocal motives and approaches of other characters in the novel. Her honesty, diligence and selflessness seem genuine and unaffected, though seemingly heavily conditioned by her own upbringing and early experiences.

I find some of the players in the drama rather difficult to stomach, notably Boythorn, even if he appears to have had some redeeming qualities. Boythorn and Skimpole throw into sharper relief the roundedness of such figures as John Jarndyce and Esther. 

As with much Dickensian literature, there is lots of rumination on the social conditions and attitudes of those times. This takes the form of both satire and general observation. The passages which are set in the "brickworks" districts are quite powerful and emotive. It is difficult not to have one's feelings animated by the portrayal of such injustices and cruelties.

Something which I took from the novel is a notion that perhaps the social classes were not quite as estranged from each other as if often made out. Some of the characters seem to move between interactions with different classes easily and without altering their behaviour noticeably. Maybe Dickens was hinting that it was possible for the classes to mix more freely, but that the intransigent mind-set of certain people was the main obstacle.

A curious sub-text in 'Bleak House' is that of misguided or haughty philanthropy. The case of Mrs Jellyby is a fascinating and rather disturbing one, and this "tangent" may reflect a preoccupation among artists and thinkers of those decades with the inconsistencies and hypocrisies which could sometimes arise from charitable works, especially those undertaken by the middle or upper classes.

Another impressive figure in this novel is the detective Mr Bucket, whose energy and resourcefulness colour many of the chapters. His investigative journey with Esther is both gripping and absorbing.

Other themes which permeate the Bleak House "universe" pertain to the social conventions of the day. Even progressive-minded individuals were hemmed in my such considerations. The criteria for determining marriage choices and career options are a common thread, as are the deferential attitudes of even the enlightened and independent.  Despite what some people might think, there are ways in which the world has definitely improved....

I was quite taken by the manner in which Dickens depicted some of the lawyers; not exactly as caricatures, but in a way which underlined his own perspective , and giving voice to the distaste harboured by many people.

Rightly or wrongly, I discerned a message in Bleak House about usefulness to society or humanity. Doubts are expressed whether some elements of the legal profession contribute to the greater good. Other people "add value" to society, either through industriousness, service-provision or simply their virtues, goodness and by positively influencing others. 

I found 'Bleak House' to be a long, occasionally arduous read, but an enthusing and eminently worthwhile one. I can see why some have come to estimate it as one of Dickens' most complete and admirable works.

The Persuaders (television series)

 I recently watched most of the episodes of 'The Persuaders', the early 1970s British action/comedy/adventure television series. The two main stars of the show were Roger Moore and Tony Curtis.

The series follows the exploits of two playboys, from contrasting backgrounds, who are brought together to investigate and resolve various intrigues and injustices. 

'The Persuaders' is very much of its time, in terms of the aesthetic flavour which it exudes, and the attitudes exhibited by the characters and the scripts/dialogue. However, it is highly entertaining and technically well put-together.

Curtis (who plays the Daniel Wilde character) and Moore (who plays Brett Sinclair), make for an engaging and charismatic pairing, although I'm not entirely sure that their "chemistry" is as terrific as some have made out.

Some of the episodes are set in Southern Europe (Monte Carlo, Italy, south of France, Spain), ensuring some spectacular scenery and some late 'dolce vita' glamour. Other episodes are set in the more prosaic location of England.

I do not think that the scripts and the stories were meant to be taken too seriously, and some of the plot-lines rely heavily on coincidences and good fortune for our heroes.

Curtis hams things up constantly, and this provides a neat contrast with Moore's more reserved, measured and economical delivery.

I was too young to take in the series when it was originally broadcast. It seems to me that it was influenced by shows which had gone before (notably 'the Avengers') and that it itself foreshadowed some other "crime shows", such as 'The Professionals'. 

My impression when viewing 'The Persuaders' is that it is more "Sixties" than "Seventies". It is frivolous (in a good way) rather than gritty or dark, and the bright, shiny colours evoke the optimism of an age more than they do the more "cynical" later decade. 

The episodes achieve a nice balance of espionage-orientated stories with "ordinary" criminal cases and tales of financial or corporate sharp-practice.

A feature of the show is the quality and impact of the guest stars. Harold Innocent, Alfred Marks, Patrick Troughton, Hannah Gordon and Peter Bowles are just some of the notable names who illuminate and elevate various episodes.

A word, too, for John Barry's superbly atmospheric theme music, which still attracts praise and mention to this day.

It is noteworthy that the two lead characters, Sinclair and Wilde, have lived quite dissolute, even aimless, existences, but they rise to their tasks with gusto. Admittedly it takes some "leverage" in the first episode to get them going as a team. They are brought together and suitably "motivated" by Judge Fulton (excellently portrayed by Laurence Naismith). 

So, a highly endearing and watchable series, which has a charm and atmosphere all its own. Some people have said that they should have made more than the 24 episodes, but I think that if they had gone on, they would have started repeating themselves  and treading old ground, a fate which has befallen some other very worthy television shows.

Charles Dickens - the novel "David Copperfield"

 After reading Charles Dickens' 'Great Expectations' a little while ago, I turned my attentions to a work which, I was assured, had similarities in its approach and atmosphere. 

My initial conclusions, whilst navigating the opening chapters of "David Copperfield", were that this was a more substantial novel than "Expectations", complex and linear but incorporating a multiplicity of strands and characters.

In a similar vein to the other book, "David Copperfield" serves as a window on 19th century societal conditions and mores, but in this regard it is relatively "undemonstrative", with the words being left to speak for themselves, by and large. More overt and direct commentary might have spoiled the effect.

Maybe this is simply symptomatic of my failing capacity for memory, but I found it difficult to keep track of the various characters, locations and story sub-plots. 

Early on I detected a generation gap as a central issue in the story, but later on I revised my impressions in this area, as older figures exhibited progressive, reasonable and humane approaches and behaviour, and younger people displayed rigid and reactionary attitudes. The message being, perhaps, that we can all change, be influenced by our environment and our social circle, but also that we have it within our power to transcend the limitations and conventions of social stratification and "expectations". 

The length of time encompassed by the narrative permits the reader to "root" for certain characters, groups of characters or "factions" and their aspirations. The titular character certainly had his hands full, but this perception may be slightly distorted by the "compression" of the timelines in the novel.

A theme which comes and goes within this work is the detachment of certain sectors of society from any consciousness of social issues and social concerns. But, perhaps significantly, Dickens appears keen to point out, via characters such as David's aunt, that these attitudes were not uniform amongst certain social groups and age-groups. This care ensures that we are not always looking at caricatures and stereotypes.

The Uriah Heep character is a compelling creation and Dickens' descriptions of him, as seem through the eyes of David, are deliciously pungent. The dryness of the narrator's (i.e. David's) humour is quite infectious, but close scrutiny is advisable in order to derive the most from this aspect of the text.

One element of this novel which mildly surprised me was the "Romantic" flavour of the passages concerning David's love life. Even if this is not your cup of tea, stay with it, because there is a pay-off later on.

Going back to the social commentary, a picture is painted of a murky morass of protectionism and exclusion; institutions which are opaque and impenetrable. It is a world of deference and reverence, and even a dynamic young man such as David is often obliged to conform in order to "get on". 

The obstructions put in place by the rarefied, and the stench of rottenness in some quarters and corners of society, emanate strongly from these pages. The tendency of people to "pull the ladder up" when they have ascended also emerges as a recurring trend here. The fear of people reverting to their former status led them to behave unnaturally and haughtily.

I'm unsure whether I could really recommend this novel as a starting point for those wishing to explore the world of Charles Dickens, especially for younger people. The sheer length of the story, and the range of characters and sub-texts, ensures that this one turns out as a demanding journey.

A number of "coincidences" and "serendipities" serve to knit the story together, and I can understand how this might put some readers off, no matter how dramatic and affecting the individual instances might appear.

Without wishing to give things away unduly, I found the ending convincingly brought out and poetically rendered., even if it was not entirely unpredictable. I can see, though, why some might deem the "resolution" to be excessively neat and tidy.

I would say that the "narrator"'s aunt is the most rounded and plausible character, and in some respects the most likeable. Her presence, in a sense, is the backbone of much that occurs. 

As I observed when reading "Great Expectations", I quite admire the author's tendency to let major, even pivotal, incidents pass by almost without explicit or concrete description. This gives us readers something to do.

So, I would estimate that this novel has more depth and emotional gravitas than "Great Expectations", the characters being evoked and developed more vividly and stridently. It is worth persevering even when things seem to meander or consolidate.  The autobiographical flavour adds additional intrigue and interest.

Out Of The Silent Planet - C.S. Lewis

 This book, 'Out of The Silent Planet', by C.S. Lewis, had been for some years one of those novels which I desired to read, but it had hitherto evaded my scrutiny. Only in recent unusual circumstances did I decide to obtain a copy. 

This work is the first in a science-fiction trilogy composed by the author. The plot centres on the "kidnapping" of an academic by two other men, following which he is taken by space-ship to the planet Malacandra, which later turns out to be Mars. He then has to navigate interactions with the various inhabitants of the planet.

Though ostensibly a work of science-fiction, 'Out of The Silent Planet' has about it much of a fantasy or 'adventure' flavour, especially when the action is concentrated on Malacandra. I would say, however, that the fantasy element is much less intricate and "opulent" than I had been led to expect. 

The passages which detail the exploits of the Ransom character, his exploration of the landscapes and social systems of Malacandra, are related quite evocatively, and the author manages to ably paint pictures with words, so that readers (or at least, this reader) can gain a grasp of the nature of the planet and its characteristics. The language employed I did not find elaborate or ornate, but it conveys the surroundings and events effectively and entertainingly.

The philosophical themes are not exactly innovative. The question of human progress and scientific discovery set against individual rights and liberties, though, is always worth revisiting, and seems especially apposite to year 2025.

Eventually the fantasy orientation of the novel recedes a little, to be superseded by more sci-fi fare, in the form of discussions about the civilisation and social organisation of Malacandra. I was impressed by the fact that some of the prominent beings on the planet were non-humanoid. I am not sure whether this was novel or old-hat in the 1930s?

There are some interesting allusions to the rights of, and the differences between, the sentient beings. A reminder that some planets may not be ordered the same as Earth, in societal and evolutionary terms.

It seemed to me that we were expected to "take for granted" some aspects of the story, such as Ransom's facility in understanding the Malacandra inhabitants' languages and modes of communication. That said, the analyses of Ransom's mental state are quite organic, forming an ongoing thread as he learns more about this world and its structure and development.

What I liked about 'Out of The Silent Planet' is that as I turned the pages, I had next to no idea of what was going to occur next.

So, this was an intriguing reading experience, if not what I was quite anticipating. It probably makes even more sense when one has read the entire trilogy, something which I might get around to doing at some point.

Moral Combat - A History of World War II - Michael Burleigh

This book, "Moral Combat", by Michael Burleigh, had been sitting on my shelves for quite some time. I had picked at it tentatively in the past; only recently did I take the step of reading it from cover to cover. I am glad that I took that step.

This is not really an exhaustive chronological account of the conflict. Rather, it seeks to examine some of the moral aspects of this fateful epoch in world history. It even goes beyond that brief, in my estimation, serving as an engaging and highly readable look at those years.

I like the emphasis on "case studies", examples from on the ground to illustrate the moral quandaries and dilemmas which confronted people, military personnel and civilians alike. The diplomatic and strategic intricacies are similarly explored.  Much of the material is spawned by the arrival of the USSR as allies of Britain and the US, how this created new realities, at many levels of the struggle, with regard to small nations, resistance groups and so forth. 

One of the strengths of this book is the inclusion of numerous small nuggets of information, which together augment the understanding and knowledge.

I found the writing style quite to my liking; not particularly dry, and with some levity here and here. The author is not afraid to venture his personal viewpoints on certain issues, and his views on modern historians make for intriguing reading.

As someone who has latterly embraced pragmatism with a vengeance, as a guiding light in my life and my world-view, some of the topics scrutinized here are quite close to home, one might say.

This is not a very comfortable book to read, but I don't think it was intended to be so. I was left with some mixed feelings; some despair at "human nature", at mankind's continuing failure to learn and to move on, but also some resolve that it doesn't have to be so bleak and so negative. 

As mentioned earlier, Burleigh has a few things to say about modern historians, some impatience with their attitudes. Some people, I suspect, might find some of the author's attitudes, shall we say, " traditional". I prefer to interpret them as common-sense, eminently humane and moderate. I would venture to suggest that if more individuals embraced such shades of outlook, the world would suffer little harm. In an age when "utopianism" and "absolutes" are so prevalent in people's thinking, I find this realism and objectivity refreshing and encouraging. 

Although the general tone is one of moderation, the author is quite blunt in places, debunking the reputations of some figures who are generally well thought of. So, this work is certainly anything but bland, and there are anecdotes aplenty to support the views expressed.

A strand in the narrative which stuck out for me was how some of the attitudes documented here are "of their time" but at the same time still worryingly widespread nowadays, leading one to question just how far we have really come since the 1940s, how "susceptible" so many people still are.

One recurring lesson when analysing the 1939-45 conflict is that "big numbers" can become almost meaningless, just statistics. Here Burleigh counter-acts such tendencies by his frequent use of localised, tangible and relatable stories, which serve to make the content more understandable, digestible and real.

Throughout this exploration the author maintains and communicates a healthy distaste for totalitarian and historicist philosophies. All of this acts as a very necessary corrective to any complacent or blase thoughts which might enter our minds. 

I read and finished reading "Moral Combat" quite quickly, but assiduously, usually a sign of a valuable and readable book. And yes, this is a very valuable and readable book.

A Barbecue

For various reasons, I have had occasion recently to reflect on how my life has unfolded, and the decision-making, or lack of it, which contributed to the course of events and experiences. In addition to the decisions which had a material impact, some notable incidents merely had symbolic or symptomatic significance, but they were nonetheless worthwhile and noteworthy.

One such 'happening' which came to mind during my recent reminiscences took place when I was eighteen, nearly nineteen years old. It was the late summer, and within a few days myself and my peers would receive the results of our A-level school examinations, as they are called here in the UK the final exams which people take before leaving High school/secondary school.

The exams themselves had taken place around May/June, and there followed an uneasy period of leisure and supposed relaxation, as we awaited the outcome of our academic endeavours. I had spasmodic contact with my friends during these weeks; I think most of us were slightly wary, conscious of wishing to be alone with our thoughts. I occupied much of the Summer watching sports on television and evincing an air of unconcern and nonchalance, despite the anxieties which lurked close to the surface.

Anyway, in that week before the results were announced, I received a call from a close school-friend. He asked whether I would like to join him and a few other people at his home for a barbecue. I accepted the invitation quite readily, as I was on the lookout for things to occupy my time and distract me from the pivotal times and decisions which loomed up ahead.

I walked the relatively short distance to my friend's home, and discovered that there were about half a dozen of us in attendance. It was just us, the school group, no older people, and this in itself may have been important, as it perhaps signified that we were now ready to organise and constitute something as "grown up" as a barbecue...

I recall clearly that the mood was subdued, and an air of wistfulness was all-pervasive, almost as though this innocuous gathering somehow represented some rite of passage. We picked at our food in quite desultory fashion, all I think striving to exude a sense of resolve or calm.

The barbecue occurred in the early evening, and there was that chill and slight breeze in the air which is commonplace at that time of the year.  The sun was threatening to go down, the sunlight was weakening and these conditions added to the poignancy and mild surrealism of the moment.

Few of us spoke much for the duration of the "function", and when we did the exchanges were rather perfunctory, as if nobody wished to give much away, or unsettle the others who were there. The uncertainties and challenges of the near future were all weighing heavily on us, even if we did not really wish to admit this to others or ourselves. None of us was particularly animated either, generally remaining seated and undemonstrative. 

I don't remember the barbecue ending as such; we all just gradually drifted away, dispersed. Much of which was expressed was unspoken, but I suspect understood by the members of this gathering. This was the end of an era, and soon prospects such as higher education or full-time employment would present themselves. The taciturnity of the assembled persons was an apposite commentary on the prevailing mood.

So I do look back on the barbecue as signalling a watershed, the ending of one phase and the beginning of another longer but less innocent and frivolous phase. It did serve a purpose, by acting as a tangible step in a process of sorts. It helped that the attendees were quite similar in character or temperament, all of us being reserved, even reticent individuals. There was no eccentricity or loudness to disturb the solemnity.

I gradually lost contact with the people who were present, and I have next to no idea how their personal, academic or professional lives turned out. I wonder whether they remember the barbecue as vividly as I still do?  Maybe they don't have my facility for recollecting such events whilst filtering out so much else...

The exam results duly emerged during the week which followed. I was moderately pleased, and to some extent, surprised by my own results, and made a snap decision to eschew the charms of university life and soon entered the world of work and adulthood in earnest.

As for the barbecue itself - well, such a prospect would hold scant attraction for me nowadays, as I am a vegetarian.....

Dirty Leeds - Robert Endeacott - book review

 This book is a "novelized" account of the period when Don Revie was the team manager at Leeds United football club, with events mostly seen through eyes of a character called Jimmy O'Rourke.

The story is told by way of two parallel threads, in a sense, two paths which occasionally overlap. We have the events in the world of Leeds United, and Jimmy O'Rourke's own life, including his footballing aspirations and his interactions with those at the club.

The language is sometimes awkward and even ungainly, but this is the type of speech which one would have expected from the time. It adds to the realism, and to the feelings of authenticity and intimacy. This impressions is most marked during the earlier stages of the tale.

It seems to me that the effect is to introduce a distinctive "voice", through the character's standpoints, and not just one of the traditional "narratives" which pertain to the Revie era. This is not just a rose-tinted perspective. There is some insight into working-class culture and sentiment, but without it becoming romanticized.

The Jimmy character is quite intriguing. He is an assertive and inquisitive young person, quite independent of mind even in those early years. His relations with his "elders" are very well rendered, from my point of view. His observations on the football scene are rather nuanced, not stereotyped.

The novel is not a strict, exhaustively detailed chronology of each stage of Revie's stewardship. Maybe the intention was more to capture the atmosphere of the time and the essence of Jimmy's nature and environs.

My impression was that Jimmy's language becomes more advanced and expressive as the story unfolds, and as he grows older. His analysis of football matters is rather more "mature" and rational than we are sometimes led to expect from football supporters, even fictional ones. He doesn't always run with the herd, basing many of his opinions on quite sound reasoning and not easy conformity or "triteness". A lively grasp of critiquing things comes through.

For myself this work serves as a kind of time capsule, harking back to a more simple, organic way of life, although it seldom descends into rose-tinted territory. Did people live less contented, less stimulating, less genuinely creative lives because they lacked some of the material and technological "advantages" which came along later?

Once again, a favourable picture emerges of 1960s and 1970s football emerges, at least in terms of the competitiveness and openness of the scene at that stage. A good deal less predictable than what was to come, let's say, about five decades or so later. 

The subjective slant of the narrative is a strength, and it gradually encompasses an earthy and dry humour. An effort is made to convey the cultural and social tenor of the times, which ostensibly relates to football, but sometimes extends beyond the confines of the game itself.

We also gather some sense of how "gentrified" football has become since the 1960s. This process might be termed a symptom of progress, rather than progress per se (?)

The over-riding sensation one derives from the narrative is now "toilsome" the game was in the 60s, attritional even. We may gaze back longingly and fondly at that era, but there was also much negativity and cynicism. Areas where things have improved include the protection now afforded to creative performers and the laws now being applied to encourage enterprising and positive play.

It is noticeable to me how Jimmy's outlook becomes more analytical, less tribal even, as the years go by. He takes a critical and even detached stance at times, not always adhering to the practices of myth-making and public relations. 

So, we are engaged in a journey with both Jimmy O'Rourke and Don Revie's Leeds United, whilst occasionally being reminded of football's ultimate irrelevance, and also its value as a palliative in times of adversity, and its capacity to provide meaning and purpose in a sometimes meaningless and directionless life/world. It is a reassuring constant as we undergo life's changes and trials, but it doesn't necessarily have to make people totally desert their reason and their objectivity.

The "narrator" displays an impressive and credible grasp of football tactics and theory, an appreciation of the broader picture within a match, and the ebb and flow of the contest, the switches in momentum and initiative. This book does make a nod to the intricacies, the finer points, and is not just a romanticized look at football culture. "Insight" and "analysis" did not begin during the early 1990s.

What is noteworthy is that firm opinions are invariably backed up by cogent arguments.

The end of the story is handled deftly, not over-burdened with portentous or weighty passages, but projecting the distinct feeling that an era was ending, that a watershed was at hand..

In summary, an intriguing and entertaining read.

The Fair

 It is curious how certain things  have the capacity to transport us on to another plane of thought entirely. Just recently, I was happily listening to some folk music, more particularly traditional British folk music. Many songs and song lyrics in that field contain references to fairs, as in a travelling fair or carnival.  These references rekindled memories and fond recollections of a near-forgotten slice of my childhood.

When I was growing up a patch of land near to our home played host, several times a year, to a travelling fair, or a "feast" as the locals tended to describe it. From an early age, as soon as I became properly conscious of this curious phenomenon on my doorstep, I was fascinated by the spectacle and many of the ideas behind it. Only now can I begin to truly rationalize the appeal of the fair, and the interest and excitement which it offered to me in those times.

In my early years, it is now apparent, I was somewhat dreamy and somehow detached from my peers, never completely feeling to be an integral part of the world, or indeed the community. Solitude was my almost default, mode, not necessarily by choice, but because so much made me uncomfortable. For someone who felt like an outsider, even if I was not able to articulate those sentiments, a "sub-culture" such as the fun fair held a certain allure, attraction and mystique. 

I would spend hours watching and observing the goings-on at the fair from our window, occasionally making my way on foot to the site, seeing at close quarters the work of the "feast-men", as I generally referred to them, as they assembled the rides and went about their regular, accustomed tasks. 

So what specifically made me so interested? Apart from a vague sense of the "differentness" of that way of life, there were other factors, although at that stage I was incapable of making sense of them or voicing my "reasoning".

There was a tendency among some of the local people to look down on the travelling people, the sort of thing which is frequently seen when "outsiders" visit a slightly insular place. The locality concerned was much less cosmopolitan and diverse, less enlightened, than it would later become.

Looking back, I can say that maybe without realizing it at the time, I admired their independence, their resourcefulness and their resilience. They exuded a certain dignity; one could use the word "proud", in its positive, non-pejorative meaning. Their bearing can be seen against the increasing regimentation and regulation which was prevalent in society.

Occasionally I harboured a tentative desire to "run away" and join the fair, in the same way that some individuals wanted to run away and join a circus. 

From a distance of several decades, I can lament that I failed to take practical inspiration from the "feast people", by cultivating some of those laudable traits. Equally I can accept and understand that my view of them was romanticized and simplistic. They had probably envied people like me, and they almost certainly had to wrestle with the same difficulties and concerns as everyone else, the same dilemmas and anxieties which are part of the human condition. 

I think, in addition, that the fair, and its characteristics, offered me something that was "my own", an interest which I could call my own, and take refuge and solace in, even feeling that I had a modicum of control over it, None of my relatives or friends even remotely shared my enthusiasm for my near-obsession. I therefore did not feel the burden of having to "compete" with other people in this little ahadowy corner. 

Once put together, the "feast" itself was in fact a feast for the senses. I can still vividly recall the sounds, the sights and the aromas. The music, the toffee apples and the candy-floss. When combined, they constituted something invigorating but comforting, and the picture was that of people coming together for a common purpose; to enjoy themselves and to forget, if only for a short while, the daily grind of grim commercial struggle and toil. This was working-class culture of the kind which encouraged social cohesion and inclusion, hopefully warding off alienation and desperation.

There was something of hope, optimism and reassurance represented by the fair, as something that would apparently always be there as a source of welcome and stability.

As these things invariably turn out, my interest and inquisitiveness regarding the fair were sustained until round about the onset of my teenaged years, before other preoccupations assumed precedence.

I rather lost track of what was happening, and before I knew it the fondly-remembered fair was no more, and the land where the festivities had been situated was eventually given over to the construction of new houses.

When the change occurred it seemed somehow emblematic of shifts both within my own life and in the shape and spirit of the wider world. My own life was becoming more and more about responsibilities, less carefree , more concerned with hard-nosed decisions and "pragmatism". 

I look back now on the demise of the fair, rightly or wrongly, as symbolic of the devouring of "common" resources for private gain. So in place of the frivolity and shared contentment of "the feast" we have a dreary residential estate, where people can isolate themselves, watch property values rise, and become gradually divorced from community and reason. No doubt they also become safely "insulated" from worries about social exclusion and inequality.

I am under few illusions about the imperatives which drove the end of the fair and the arrival of the two and three bedroomed boxes, but I wish that there was still more room for things like that which brighten the imagination and people's horizons. Maybe I just don't understand the true meaning of the expression "human needs". Somewhere the balance appears to have been lost, it sometimes seems to me.

The end of the fair's existence was a case of "innocence lost", both in the course of a human life and in terms of a general departure in the ways of the world. Do youngsters have a "Fair", or its equivalent , nowadays? I really do hope so.

Eddie The Eagle (2015 film)

 A film which I had intended to see upon its release, but which somehow slipped away from my attention, was 'Eddie The Eagle', a biopic which tells the story of the British ski-jumper Eddie 'The Eagle' Edwards.

To summarize, Edwards achieved international prominence and attention in 1988 through his appearance at the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary. His struggle to achieve his dream, and his determination to compete captured the public imagination for a short while.

I remember the 'Eddie The Eagle' phenomenon very well, as I was a very avid follower of all sports at the time, that is 1988. I'm not sure whether this was a particularly instructive example of the amateur ideal, because even in the 1980s there were 'elite', successful athletes in the Olympics who were still, to a lesser or greater degree, 'amateur'. No, I think that the draw of the 'Eddie the Eagle' story was that he was an 'everyman' figure, someone who the blue-collar audience could relate to and identify with, having his moment of fame, and making the most of it, not always acting in the way which was expected.

Anyway, I recently got around to watching the 'Eddie The Eagle' movie at last. One of the first things which was noticeable to me was that the production values were of a quite high order. Visually it is a pleasing work, and the CGI and other effects tend to complement the story rather than acting as a distraction. 

Importantly, the makers did not try too hard to make everything look 'very' 1970s or 1980s, and so evaded a failing which weighs down quite a few biopics of this type. The scene is set, and some context introduced, early on with some 'flashback' sequences illustrating the younger Eddie's Olympic aspirations and his efforts to overcome adversity. 

Taron Egerton gives an endearing and plausible performance as Eddie, capturing some of the loveable naivete and the persistence of the character, as well as instilling some nice comedic touches throughout. The scenes set in the Edwards family home familiarize us with idea that they are honest, down-to-earth people, without romanticizing this unnecessarily.

One of the keys to the narrative for me was that Eddie was resolutely serious about his ski-jumping endeavours, whilst all around him people were laughing and expressing disdain. By the standards of many biopics the script was crisp, and even if the dialogue was (very) occasionally corny, some of it was sharp and impactful.

There is the obligatory 'training montage', although this one is quite amusing, and in another parallel with the 'Rocky' films, a central mentor-pupil theme. In this case the mentor/coach is played by Hugh Jackman. The Bronson Peary character is fictional, incidentally, but hey this is a frequent occurrence in biopics....

One false note for me was struck by the characterisations of the British Olympic officials and some of the British competitors at the '88 Winter games. For me this was a slightly clumsy attempt to present the story as one of Eddie against The World, or at least Eddie versus The Establishment. An over-simplification, in all probability, but such over-simplifications are often deemed necessary by film-makers or their overlords in order to create 'tension' and 'conflict'.

Of the supporting cast, I thought that Keith Allen was very likeable as Eddie's father, expressing concern that the young man is neglecting his "normal" career, but ultimately being proud of Eddie's achievements. Jim Broadbent pops up as a TV commentator.

The heart of the film for me was the period which Eddie spent training and learning his craft in Germany. Here we see how Eddie's unaffectedness and uncomplicated tenacity endear him to some people, but also how he is ridiculed and patronised by some of the top-drawer competitors in his chosen sport.  The Petra character quickly takes up Eddie's cause, although his 'coach' Peary takes some work before fully becoming a convert. Petra and Bronson are, you might say, stock characters, but they are vital in facilitating the forward propulsion and development of the story.

I would say that the decision to base so much of the screen time at the German location was an astute one, as it lent some continuity and stability to the narrative, and there is the bonus of some very pleasant scenery.

The scenes set at the Winter Olympics at Calgary are a touch flimsy, but this is common with movies falling under this category. There is some cursory exploration of the notion that other athletes thought that Eddie was receiving too much adulation and attention, but very little about the fears that he was falling prey to people interested in 'using' him for commercial purposes; I distinctly remember the latter being a centrepiece of the media coverage about Eddie in 1988.

I think that the film, intentionally or otherwise, evoked the slightly surreal nature of the Eddie Edwards episode which I recollect from 1988, a story which arguably cannot be repeated today. 

Overall, I enjoyed it, and it had more substance and heart-warming appeal than I had expected. It got across the idea that 'ordinary' people might not be able to achieve success measured in terms of gold medals or their equivalent but simply striving to be involved and included can invigorate and ennoble them, and act as an example to others, but the idea was communicated here without being preachy or heavy-handed.

The Top 100 Cricketers of All Time - Christopher Martin-Jenkins

 Another tome which had been on my bookshelves for years, receiving regrettably little of my attention, was 'The Top 100 Cricketers of All Time', written by the late Christopher Martin-Jenkins.

I was long an admirer of "CMJ", from enjoying his commentaries on radio and television, to reading his writings in book and newspaper form. His writing has a richness and a jauntiness, and his love for the game shines through in the book "The Top 100 Cricketers of All Time."

It should be stressed that this selection is purely of male players - a similar volume today would certainly incorporate female cricketers. In putting together this list of cricket's greatest, and as a genuine "concerner" for the game's welfare and integrity, I think that CMJ gave precedence to some players based on their overall influence on the game and its development, as well as the entertainment factor and the adherence to the spirit of the sport. Their statistical legacy in the record books was only a part of the considerations, it seems.

As we grow older, I think that sports fans tend to bother less about statistics and records, and concentrate more about the human aspects. This is the case with myself;so what if such and such a player's batting average was mediocre - that often tells only a fraction of the whole story. Artistry and memories also count for a lot. In my youth I often got into curious complexes, feeling bemused and even puzzled by the praise heaped on players whose career stats were decidedly modest. I am over that stage now!

There is a nice choice of photographs, usually conveying the individualism or personality of the subject(s). Old cricket photographs often have a genuine intimacy and charm.

Even though this work was composed in the twenty-first century, its general style and tenor, to an extent, bear some of the hallmarks of the time before cricket moved on to another plateau, commercially speaking. 

Martin-Jenkins regularly draws attention to the technical nuances of the game, highlighting each cricketer's strengths (and weaknesses). He also illustrates their more "subjective" capacities such as stamina and levels of concentration.

Above all, what came across for me when reading this book is the game's richness, diversity and complexity during its greatest periods. These things are perhaps not as immediately noticeable nowadays, in addition to that general air of "mystery".

The author goes to some trouble to obtain information and anecdotes which help to explain how players turned out the way they did. This includes details of their origins, coaching and experiences. 

It was good to see the inclusion of several relatively "obscure" people in this list. The importance and weight of players from India and Pakistan is also evidence of the writer's breadth of understanding, as is the due recognition to the contribution made to the game by Sri Lankans in recent decades. The vibrancy bestowed on the gam by all of its practitioners around the globe is given is duly noted.

CMJ's keen and discerning eye is apparent throughout in his facility for observing and capturing foibles and traits, those often intangible things which separated them from their peers or their predecessors, and which partly determined their spot in any "pecking order". An example of this is the article on Shaun Pollock, and his relative lack of explosiveness as an all-rounder. Of course, it is a matter of taste as to whether we should count this as a weakness, but admirable that the author could identify it as a factor, and analyse it in such acute terms. This sharpness of analysis, combined with a love of, and fluency in, the use of language, makes for a joyful recipe.

It might seem invidious to compare nineteenth century legends with modern limited-overs specialists, but Martin-Jenkins transcends this problem in part by linking together disparate generations in appreciation of the human and universal elements which explain and nurture success and greatness

There is also an engaging "looseness" about the format of the mini-biographies. They are not put together in chronological order, but done in such a manner which betrays a pleasing absence of rigidity.

In amongst the passages celebrating the brilliance of these people the author does not gloss over the less agreeable aspects of top-level cricket, such as intimidatory bowling, slow over-rates and so forth. 

All in all, a fine and admirable book.

The True Adventures of The Rolling Stones - Stanley Booth

 I recently finished reading Stanley Booth's book "The True Adventures Of The Rolling Stones". I had been aware of this tome for some time, and had the opportunity to experience it after being given a copy by a relative.

The book was first published in the mid-1980s, although the settings and the actual subject matter rarely go beyond the early Seventies. The chapters alternate between the author's recollections of the Stones' 1969 American tour and more general "biographical" material and interviews. We also gain some insight into Booth's own travails and struggles in getting his project off the ground.

There is a fly-on-the-wall flavour to the chronicle of the 1969 tour, and this helps to create a warts-and-all idea of the chaos which apparently prevailed within the Stones' organisation around that time. The numerous colourful tales and anecdotes are given a higher sharpness because of the author's poetic and idiosyncratic writing style.

The "counter-cultural" outpourings of all concerned seem hopelessly dated to 21st century sensibilities, but this does ensure that the work serves as a rich time-capsule. This was what 1969 was like for the in-crowd, if not necessarily for ordinary people. I would like to think that the participants in the drama of the tour have grown up and learned something from how the sojourn ended.

Not surprisingly, Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman come across as the most grounded and likeable of the Stones, with the then new boy Mick Taylor barely visible for the most part. 

The biographical-historical sections of "The True Adventures....." contain some interesting points and revelations, especially concerning the role and attitudes of Brian Jones. These observations are given added weight because they arise from quotes by members of the Stones circle (Wyman, Keith, Ian Stewart etc.). My interpretation is that Brian became estranged and "difficult", in a meaningful way, at quite an early stage. 

For me it is difficult to escape the suspicion that Jagger and Richards, even in the late 1960s, were playing up to a role and an identity which was expected of them, although Mick in those days appears to have been rather difficult to pin down or appraise. Wyman and Watts often had more interesting and insightful (and honest) things to say about their lives and the band's status and progress. Bill and Charlie appear to have had a detached relationship to the rest of the group, and to have enjoyed a measure of autonomy.

Booth's accounts of life in Los Angeles just prior to the '69 tour are entertaining and quite evocative. The comings-and-goings of the various participants, hangers-on, journalists, roadies and so forth are depicted in a highly absorbing manner. It is striking just how haphazard, even amateurish, concert tours still were at that point in history. The ultra-professional, buttoned-down methods which we know today were still quite a distant prospect.

Mick Taylor, as ever, emerges as an enigmatic figure, and as alluded to previously, gets comparatively little attention, even as the highly talented new addition to the line-up. Looking back, it should not really surprise us that he rarely looked as though he "belonged". I think he came out of it with honour and dignity. I don't blame him if he felt uncomfortable, and even embarrassed, by some of the things going on around him. His legacy remains in the elegant and tasteful contributions which helped to elevate the Stones' recordings, especially in the early 1970s.

Despite some early misgivings, I increasingly warmed to this book and its atmosphere and tone, coming to realize that the author was not as opinionated or as naive as I had first assumed. Booth seems as disorientated and confused as anyone else close to the Stones at that time. Ultimately I feel that his perspective is one of realism, resignation even.

Towards the close of the work there is a vivid and quite chilling account of the disastrous free concert at Altamont. The writer wisely refrained from indulging in any prolonged agonizing or philosophizing about the debacle; the description spoke for itself.

The over-riding achievement of this book is in capturing what the Rolling Stones were all about at the time when they were at their most visceral, "dangerous" and relevant. It is a very worthwhile read.

When The Levee Breaks - The Making of Led Zeppelin IV - Andy Fyfe

 I received this book as a Christmas present, and I made short work of reading it.  Ostensibly it is a volume which examines Led Zeppelin's famous fourth album from the year 1971, but it also serves quite capably as a mini-biography of the group. It was first published in 2003.

I must confess that I was not totally convinced by the author's assertions about the album's place in the grand scheme of things (personally I prefer "Physical Graffiti" and the debut album), but he does make some effort to get to the heart of the record's mystique, and he argues quite persuasively and forcefully that its focus and its cohesive qualities set it apart from the Zeppelin works which came before and after it.

As I worked my way through "When The Levee Breaks,,," some of my misgivings disappeared and I began to warm to the writer's style and his approach. His musical knowledge is impressive and quite extensive, and he approaches this subject from a different angle to most other Zeppelin-orientated observers, which gives his analysis a refreshing tone.

There is some illuminating material concerning the album's famous artwork, and although this might appear as "tangential", it helps to shape a well-rounded portrayal of the band, its mentality and its character.

We are given some insight into the group's methods and working habits, how they went about the creative process. In addition, I liked the entertaining and well-rendered biographical passages about the individual members and the early days of Led Zeppelin. Very occasionally the prose lapses into the reductive and the simplistic, but by and large the author's reasoning and arguments are nuanced and sharp.

A track-by-track "commentary" also strengthens the authoritativeness of the tome. Again Fyfe illustrates and embellishes his points with imaginative allusions and sub-texts about the merits and the intricacies of the songs.

The idea which he eventually succeeded in getting across to me was that "IV" is more focused and fully-realized, and was the stage at which their sound and their grasp of their musical influences crystallized and was in harmony. He contrasts this with the more disparate nature of some of their earlier offerings. It is true that "Physical Graffiti" contains some "old" material, making it feel slightly less unified.

For me, the discussion of the stories behind the songs, the inspiration for the compositions and the arrangements, and the themes explored, helped to flesh out and deepen my understanding of what made Zeppelin tick.

This book also chronicles and appraises the shifting relationships and balances of power within the band unit, as Jones, Plant and Bonham, in their different ways, exerted greater control and contributions in the song-writing, the arrangements and the overall sound and direction.

Ironically, given the book's titular remit, the sections of the book which I enjoyed the most were those which address the periods which followed the release of the fourth album, and the years subsequent to their disbandment in 1980.  A word of praise too for how Fyfe links the group's influence and legacy to more "modern" artists and musical sub-cultures. This was a nice, fresh perspective as far as I was concerned, although the comparisons with those later groups only serve to underline Zeppelin's own greatness and quality.

Relatively small criticisms would be that the author sometimes repeats himself in labouring points or theories, and I didn't always concur with his attempts at social commentary, but overall I consider this to be a laudable and enjoyable book, which is recommended reading both for Zeppelin devotees and general rock fans.

A Hard Day's Night - The Beatles - album analysis

In assessing the back catalogue of The Beatles, one curious thought has assailed my mind. It occurs to me that the album "A Hard Day's Night", though a highly accomplished and engaging work, is somewhat overlooked and underrated, if not exactly forgotten. So why the relative indifference?  This is possibly because the record gets rather lost in the shadow of the film of the same name, which admittedly is a charming and sharp piece. 

For me, the album represents a very definite and solid staging point in the group's maturation and development, but such accolades are normally reserved for the albums which followed it, including "Rubber Soul" and parts of "Help". 

There is a peculiar solidity and compactness about "A Hard Day's Night", insomuch as it has little in the way of egregious filler material (what filler exists is skilfully concealed) or "outlier" tracks. The "holes" which characterize many albums of that era are not perceptible, and the "Merseybeat" elements are slowly evaporating.

The record also possessed a distinct stylistic or sonic unity, and ironically this particular quality may contribute to a perception that it is "samey" and lacking in variety. This impression is actually illusory, but by the same token close scrutiny is required to draw out the material and cut through any misconceptions.

It is noteworthy that this record contains only "Lennon-McCartney" song-writing credits, and this tendency doubtless helps to bolster the feeling of uniformity when regarding the work. One thing which I think can be said for certain is that "A Hard Day's Night" is not a transitional album; it captures The Beatles in a stable, buoyant and self-confident place. 

A point to remember is that the group managed to maintain such excellence and focus amidst a hectic and demanding schedule of touring and other activity. Even the Beatles were human, however, and similar feats proved beyond them in late 1964 and into 1965. The seeds of "Rubber Soul" can be discerned here, I would contend, but the full realisation of that promise would have to wait, delayed by the workload imposed by their commitments.

The burst of creativity and ideas emanating from John Lennon at this time may have saved "A Hard Day's Night" from a fate similar to that which befell "Beatles for Sale" and "Help". Also, the adrenaline and excitement of the first portion of 1964 helped to forestall ennui and world-weariness. This album has a reputation as a "Lennon album", but Paul McCartney's contributions, as composer, vocalist and instrumentalist are impactful and of a high standard.

The earthy and organic textures of this LP are intriguing, and possibly stem in part from the breadth and pervasiveness of the influences which the members of The Beatles were absorbing in 1964, including folk music and the nascent folk-rock scene. 

I feel that the absence of cover versions imbues the record with a forward-looking, streamlined and purposeful identity and momentum. This is almost akin to a crystallization of their development and growth to date. The ascent to the next level was perhaps less smooth and straightforward than they might have envisaged.

"Thinking out loud" slightly now, but this collection inaugurated what I have tended to view as a distinct phase, spanning 1964-65, one of more acoustic-tinged fare, a maturing of the songwriting, and the eventual forsaking of the rock n roll covers. It could be argued that the relatively disjointed nature of the two albums which followed "A Hard Day's Night" was an inevitable consequence of the process of evolution.

As mentioned earlier, it is recognised that John Lennon's personality and song-writing predominate on these sides, but that Paul McCartney's all-round musical panache and exuberance contribute greatly to the overall effect. Additionally, McCartney's own songs make up in interest and quality what they lack in sheer volume. There is an argument for saying that this is the first Beatles album where the complementary strengths and traits of Lennon and McCartney really interact and make their presence felt in a noticeable and meaningful way. Lennon's restless energy and brooding spirit mesh with McCartney's dynamism and optimism, the facets reacting agreeably in elevating the group to new heights.

Examining the record track-by-track, I would say that the title song tends to be taken for granted, but it is very impactful, with its famous opening "chord" and the arpeggiated ending. The music in between those two points is very impressive, having a raw rhythm and blues feel, and in that sense it is a quintessential Lennon song. This number deserves to be re-appraised in isolation from the film of the same name.

"I Should Have Known Better" is eminently likeable, and for me it typifies a slight incongruity with some Beatle songs of the period, that of maturing musical content and aspirations, but progress was not necessarily reflected in correspondingly "advanced" lyrics. However, the Dylanesque harmonica and a pleasing melodic base override any minor reservations.

The next song, "If I Fell", is an example of sumptuous Beatles vocal harmonies of a kind which they should really have tried more often on record. It is also emblematic of the fluent melodicism and musicality which are characteristic of the LP as a whole.

Although George Harrison did not get one of his own compositions on to the album, he was allotted a lead vocal spot on "I'm Happy Just to Dance with You". By no means a masterpiece, but it also emits some of that spark and charm which graced almost everything which they touched around this time.

"And I Love Her" is a number which displays the burgeoning sophistication of The Beatles as song-writers and musicians. There is also a hint of a "confessional" style of lyrics, exploring relationships and personal experiences in a more advanced manner. The song is pleasantly tuneful in the customary McCartney way.

I always found "Tell Me Why" to be filler material of sorts. It sounds good and it helps to fill out the album running order, but the filler here is less jarring and conspicuous than in the releases made by their contemporaries. It has some brio and joie de vivre, and Lennon's vocal is quite forceful and memorable.

"Can't Buy Me Love", one of the record's most famous songs, is another one which illustrates a growing polish and confidence in the group's work. I suspect that tunes such as this one brought more people of the older generations into the Beatles' camp, as it swings like some jazz and "easy listening" recordings. The production is also smooth and clean.

From the same territory as "Tell Me Why" comes "Any Time At All", a song which is not from the top drawer, but which packs quite a punch. It has sufficient atmosphere and melody to maintain the interest and the attention. Lennon once again impresses on vocals, and the piece exudes some assurance.

"I'll Cry Instead" is another of those tracks which is unexceptional, but which blends seamlessly into the fabric of the project. There is a country and western flavour, and this genre crept into the band's output in the period 1964-65, courtesy in part of Ringo Starr's musical leanings. Also, country music is not a great leap from the rockabilly so beloved by all four Beatles. I detect a Rolling Stones vibe in parts of this song, the verses especially.

Another highlight, in a quiet way, of the collection is "Things We Said Today". The lyrics are interesting and the song has an affectingly enigmatic, almost haunting, quality. It signals a shift away from formulaic song-craft.

Probably the weakest effort on the record is "When I Get Home". It is rather uninspired, but never genuinely becomes a "sore thumb", in the sense of tarnishing the overall effect of the album. It is not quite as bad as some reviewers have alleged, and it has a few interesting moments.

"You Can't Do That" performs an important role in the running order. Its R & B flavour imbues the album with some rhythmic incisiveness and breaks up the diet of folk-rock and beat music which pervades the LP. 

The closer, "I'll Be Back", is another slice of "wooden" folk-inflected music, epitomizing the forward-looking dimensions of this work, and anticipating the "Help" and "Rubber Soul" eras to come. 

On reflection, "A Hard Day's Night" is one of The Beatles' most impressive and solid achievements. The hallmarks of the early days are still there, but the future direction and influences are also visible. A crucial and coherent part of the canon.

Now And Then - "new" Beatles song

 I am sure that I was not alone in my eager and curious anticipation of the release of "Now And Then", billed as the last Beatles song. I have to confess that I was there, refreshing the page on my chosen streaming service as the time of release approached. So, what do I make of "Now And Then"?

Inevitably, when appraising the single, people are going to draw comparisons with "Free as A Bird" and "Real Love", the two Beatles tracks which emerged from similar foundations and source material, and which formed part of the Anthology projects in the 1990s.

For me "Now And Then" betrays more signs of its origins than its aforementioned predecessors, but at the same time the production and the arrangement which surround the lead vocal feel more organic and restrained.

The atmosphere of the track is somewhat mournful, enveloped in a kind of wistfulness. My initial reaction was that this is apposite for our times, a sense of melancholy, ennui and nagging anxiety. Was this general tenor intended to tap into the perceived public mood of 2023? I'm not really sure, but it was one of the first characteristics of "Now And Then" which jumped out to me. It may be another case of that perennial Beatles facility for effortlessly evoking the zeitgeist. 

On the face of it the song lacks the "charm" and ebullience of, for instance, "Real Love", and even its musical subtlety, but that may be missing the point; on reflection, "Now And Then" should perhaps be viewed more as a "mood piece", rather than as a hook-laden potboiler. 

In putting the track together, they resisted the temptation to try too hard to make it "exciting", relying instead on the qualities of the basic song, then judiciously embellishing the raw material, as it were.

I think they have done a commendable job in playing to the song's strengths and lyrical direction, as opposed to making it into something that it wasn't. Having suggested that the overall ambience is downbeat, I think that the instrumentation and arrangement are in keeping with the reflective nature of the words. The piano and electric guitars are tastefully done, and Ringo Starr's drumming exhibits his distinctive "feel" to some effect.

So, overall a creditable effort, provided that the listener did not have excessive expectations beforehand. It sounds "modern", which to some degree is inescapable, but it has a personality and an effect. 

Rosshalde, by Hermann Hesse. A second reading.

Carrying on my renewed exploration of the novels of Hermann Hesse, I came to Rosshalde, which I remember made a great impression on me at the first time of asking a few years back.

The story examines the situation of an artist, Johann Veraguth, who lives on quite an opulent estate. His wife also lives on the estate, but they live in separate houses. The marriage has become deeply unhappy, The couple's youngest son, Pierre, is really all that now connects them. The boy lives mostly with his mother, whilst the eldest son is mostly away at school.

It seems that his desire to spend time with Pierre is the only thing which leads Johann to keep up the "pretence", and remain at Rosshalde. A visit from a friend, Otto, a man with an outgoing and inquisitive approach to life, sets in motion a series of fundamental contemplations and decisions on Johann's part, and then tragedy intervenes.

As I hinted at in my opening paragraph, Rosshalde made quite an impact on me when I first read it. The novel exudes a charm, a poignancy and a poetic sensibility which set it apart, even from most of Hesse's work. These qualities may to some extent stem from the fact that the story is, it seems, partly auto-biographical in nature.

The opening chapter sets the scene and the tone effortlessly and beautifully, outlining the ambience of the setting and its natural environs, the dynamics and the intricacies of the human relationships which play out there and which are the centrepieces of the story. We are also introduced to the habits and the demeanour of Johann.

These initial constructions go a long way to ensuring the effect and the atmosphere of the Rosshalde story, in its gently endearing but wistful evocations.

The visit paid to Rosshalde by Otto, and its influence on Johann's thinking, are central to the tale, and provoked much thought on my own part. Associating with vibrant, joyous people often brings us to realise what we are missing out on. It is also arguable that these encounters which wrench us away from an insular, secluded existence have a kind of randomness and transience to them. It is so easy to miss that particular train, in that it does not operate to a set timetable.

Johann's experiences also remind us that many individuals who appear, at first glance, to be living an enviable and stimulating life in fact feel unfulfilled. We are not all content with material comfort and professional "success".

Sometimes our pride makes it difficult for us to admit that something is absent. We pretend, or delude ourselves, that we are contented and happy. The point is made in this novel that contentment is perhaps an indicator of a lack of hope. We see some things merely as a means of blocking out distress, misery or sorrow, rather than as a path to positive self-realisation.

The passages which detail Otto's visit to Rosshalde are highly affecting and exquisitely composed, It is advisable for the reader to devote some time to carefully digesting the vagaries of the exchanges between Johann and his friend.

I find this novel important because it addresses, in a quiet and unspectacular way, so many aspects of the human experience which weigh so heavily. Love, compromise, doing things for the wrong reasons, enduring because the alternative is worse. Not being bitter about the past, but embracing the present and the moment. One door closes, another one opens. Also, sometimes Nature intervenes and engineers the change for us.

A striking note for me was the tragedy of human antipathy, miscommunication and misunderstanding, and the acknowledgement, however frustrating, that this is cold reality. There is little point in feeling angry about these things, for that would mostly be a waste of energy. We must learn how to cope, and also to be kind and reasonable in how we navigate the storms. Some horrors, such as loneliness and disillusionment, can be borne provided that there is hope.

The idea of the artist (in this case Johann) "burying himself in his work" - is this comparable to people burying themselves in their work to block out or forget personal woes? - is another theme touched on.  Does such an approach simply serve as a holding operation, rather than constituting an escape or a solution to the individual's predicament? What is perhaps needed is lasting relief, and not a constant urge to drown the anxieties. Not everyone is fortunate enough to receive the stimulus or the resolution.

The great irony of the story is that the event which finally "liberates" Johann is the demise of that which he had hitherto clung to as a beacon.  I am sure many people can identify with this element of the story, and the temptation to attach "irrational" interpretations to such events.

Rosshalde I found hugely enjoyable and stimulating, but I was also left with some quite stark feelings. On the one hand a certain admiration and satisfaction for a person who has, quite late in the day, achieved clarity and sureness of course. On the other, a certain cold wonder concerning the tragedies and follies of people. Even someone who nowadays is much more resigned to the inevitability and inescapability of those latter phenomena cannot fail to be jolted by their shadows and icy pervasiveness. The certainty that these things are facts of life does little to diminish their impressiveness.