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.

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.

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 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.

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.

Great Expectations - Charles Dickens

I am not exactly sure where the spur emanated from, but I was recently seized with the intention to return to the works of Charles Dickens, after a break of many years. It may be because some of his books resemble in their format and their "method", the work of Hermann Hesse, perhaps my favourite novelist.

I remember having a copy of Great Expectations during childhood. It became mislaid, or was given away, or else became a casualty of my unaccountable teenaged and early adult drift away from literature, or more specifically the novel. I may have been too busy with "abstract" and theoretical academic studies to be bothered with the humanistic and interpretative demands of classic fiction, much to my detriment. 

Looking back wistfully, I am tempted to speculate that Dickens may have constituted a better education, in a meaningful sense. Having said all this, I doubt that even as a teenager I would have been able to effectively absorb and assimilate all of the material and meaning which proliferate in Dicken's more substantial works.

To summarize, and without giving too much away, the novel tells the story of the development and growth of the 'Pip' character, and is 'narrated' by Pip in the first-person. The latter helps to endow the story with a distinct and curious flavour.

Some of the language and terminology employed may baffle present-day audiences, but to me this is but a small obstacle, and in fact it imbues the novel with a period feel and a strengthened feeling of realism. 

It might appear at first, in a superficial sense, that the story's structure relies too much on a number of coincidences. However, when one subjects affairs to a greater scrutiny it all becomes plausible and more clear; it could be a small world, even in 19th century England. One common factor links much of it together.

This is one of those novels which gathers momentum gradually but surely, as it draws the reader inexorably in. The motives, traits and eccentricities of the various characters help to drive and solidify these processes. Eventually I found myself rooting for the "good guys", once it became clearer who the good guys were.

I would contend that circumspection and leisure are handy things to observe when tackling Great Expectations. They are necessary in order to achieve and maintain a grasp of the plot, to "join the dots" as it were, and keep track of the various participants and their numerous connections.

The social commentary and satire is not quite as overt and as near to the surface as I had expected. but Dickens' concerns and his reformist ideas are still discernible, woven into the narrative and certain of the characterisations - some stand out more than others in the latter respect. Occasionally Pip does make a cutting comment in his account, invariably veiled in sarcasm or humour.

One of the foremost themes which for me stood out was a notion of the goodness, the authenticity and the transparency of ordinary people. This could have emerged in a romantic or "idealized" manner, but it does not, instead being brought out in a subtle way, as something to be picked up and acknowledged by the reader. The first-person narration helps to further this impression, serving to "soften" the impact of any message which the author may or not have been seeking to project, even allowing for the temptation to put words into Pip's mouth.

Let us just say that if the social climate and the economic picture portrayed here were anything like accurate, we can scarcely wonder that Dickens and his contemporaries craved reform and change. The picture of brutalized sections of society is a stark one, and worth more than a moment's contemplation. The dangers of such a scenario, now as then, remain something which we should all bear in mind and seek to guard against.

To me, it seemed that some of the key individual events or incidents in the novel did not have the conventional sense of "drama" or "moment" which I had been conditioned to expect. Some things appeared to just "happen", explained in poetic, even cryptic terms, and the story then moved on, with full explanation sometimes only occurring via the insight of the reader.  When I reflect upon this, it is less a criticism of this particular work, and more a sign of the types of literature which I have habitually frequented. The first-person narration is also a salient point in all this. What the occurrences lost in initial, literal clarity they gained in lyrical and artistic effect.

The mental imagery evoked by the words of Dickens, as spoken through Pip, is very strong, or at least it was strong and affecting in my case. The major locations and settings soon assume a real identity and consistency, and these may prove to be instrumental in attaining an enhanced enjoyment of the tale, and arriving at a deeper appraisal of the characters and the issues explored.

A reason for this novel's significance and enduring appeal is that some of the themes which it examines are universal and not governed by time. One which was highlighted for me was this concept of trying to "compensate" for the effects of our injudicious or errant deeds, even if those deeds might have been committed under duress or through naivete. If we cannot reverse or directly counter-act our mistakes, we can at least learn from our mistakes and experiences, and seek to be a force for good, for humane treatment of others, and for justice. These elements had a distinct resonance for this reader, partly with reference to today's social ills and pressures.

Charles Dickens has sometimes been associated, in my mind at least, with social commentary and the grim industrial and urban landscapes of 19th century London and England. Having returned to Great Expectations, I am happy to revise and retract those outdated and erroneous perspectives. In this novel Dickens shows himself to be a highly capable and resourceful story-teller, with the capability of weaving endearing and captivating narratives. Maybe I will read David Copperfield next - to the best recollection that one eluded me entirely in my younger days....

Peter Camenzind, by Hermann Hesse - a second reading

 As I continue my second major odyssey through the writings of Hermann Hesse, I turn to his first novel, Peter Camenzind, published in 1904.

It follows the story of the titular character, a young man from the countryside, who goes away to college and subsequently embarks on various travels, friendships and cultural ventures. The novel concludes with Peter returning to his home village to support his ageing father.

What I really like about Peter Camenzind is its streamlined and simple format. Also, Hesse does not settle for stereotypical or "obvious" plot elements or characterizations. The tale is laid out in a pleasingly organic way, exuding a charm and fluency which are outstanding even by Hesse's standards.

The character of Peter Camenzind is quite idiosyncratic but eminently plausible, and he does not necessarily conform to what we expect from protagonists in this type of novel, by Hesse or others. The reader is challenged to accept and recognise that we all have our own quirks and that we all react in different ways to our influences, our upbringing and our environment. We are perhaps mistaken if we cherish the notion that all people develop within a narrow set of parameters.  Young Mr Camenzind is by no means a caricature.

It is telling, I think, that on revisiting the stories of Hermann Hesse, I am a good deal less receptive to the "supernatural" dimension than I was in the past. Instead, I distil things down to a "philosophical" and worldly interpretation, and I would contend that one does not need to be religious or spiritually inclined to be animated and invigorated by Hesse's observations.

As ever, Hesse demonstrates a great facility for evoking imagery through words, imagery which conjures up a vibrant but believable series of locations and situations. This to me suggests a fertile imagination and an observant mind, in addition to solid and wide-ranging personal experience.

The philosophical drive, if one was intended, does not seem as clear and as strong in this novel as is the case with some of Hesse's others. The reader is left with the task of interpreting much of what transpires within the pages. Apart from the standard Hesse themes of self-discovery and a search for personal identity, the "message" is comparatively diffuse here, and the novel is none the worse for that. Only in his later works would Hesse flesh out and engage with his regular fields of inquiry in more concentrated form.

Peter Camenzind's story is an indication that Hesse's work was more varied than some might imagine, and that it evolved and developed over time. It is also fair to say that keen antennae are required to discern the differences and nuances. Even if one accepts that the author's books cover similar ground, I would rather have writing of this quality, continuity and profundity than that of novelists whose subject matter is all over the map but anodyne. Reading Hesse is a journey and an education, not just a form of "entertainment" or relaxation. 

Due to the apparent absence of an all-pervading major theme, the story-line, which is told in the "first person", glides along smoothly, relatively uncluttered by weighty concerns. Hesse is highly adept at basic, enjoyable story-telling, quite apart from his other qualities.

So what did I learn from Peter Camenzind's story?  Well, a conception which crops up here and there is the sense that our experiences, good and bad, even if we do not put them to concrete or tangible use, equip us and embolden us to tackle life's ongoing challenges and trials, although we do not always realise this. In addition, what sustains us is a belief, even a confidence, that something good or rewarding will eventually be ours. This faith may be misplaced and unlikely in reality to ever bear fruit, but a tentative form of progress, consciously and otherwise, towards this vague objective is in the main healthy, provided that we do not visualise the ultimate goal too pedantically or obsessively.

Throughout the novel, Nature, and mankind's relationship to it in the modern age, is a recurring topic. The notion of revering and studying Nature as a means of appreciating and loving our fellow humans more fully is put forward. I must confess that this aspect of Camenzind's wanderings and reflections hit home with me, as someone who has become aware from personal experience of the realities of alienation and detachment.

Recognising that we interact with Nature, as well as being part of it ourselves, may assist in renewing some severed connections, as well as enabling us to steer a more fulfilling and mindful course, by breathing in Nature's gifts. Beauty comes in many forms. These questions are arguably even more pressing and relevant today than when Hesse was composing this story.

The portions of this novel which I relished most were those which chronicled Camenzind's travels, especially those to Italy, and the manner in which he relates the healing and soothing effects of mixing with and befriending ordinary people, with their modesty, humility and earthy goodness. It is perhaps not a coincidence that those people lived more closely attuned to Nature and its munificence.

I sensed that in a way Hesse was setting the authenticity and genuineness of common folk against some others who he encountered in the worlds of academia and art, those who had been affected by ego, vanity and ambition. These points do not really feel to me like an attempt to "romanticize" the distinction, but the writer makes them eloquently enough.

Another argument which caught my attention when studying Peter Camenzind was the idea that observing and associating with individuals is often more instructive and stimulating than an "abstract" examination of humanity as a whole. An example of this is the main character's relationship with the disabled man Boppi, a friendship which is documented most lovingly and touchingly. To be of genuine utility and value, do these relationships need to go beyond the superficial level?

In emphasizing such a "grass roots" method of studying people, Hesse may have been effecting another subtle dig at academia and scholarship, who knows? This introduces us to a field which he would return to, in various forms, later in his career.

Hesse appears to be arguing in his accounts of Camenzind's friendships that we need to value our relationships, learn from them, see them as a two-way process, and harness them to improve and enrich ourselves and the world around us. It is never too late to soak up life's beauty and warmth, and never too late to attain a semblance of realization, and we should not necessarily fear death.

I have always been somewhat sceptical of the oft-asserted suggestion that travel "broadens the mind".  Perhaps what it does accomplish is to help us to get closer to a clue to our true selves, and put other areas of our existence into a clearer perspective. Introduced to different people and backdrops, we may see things which we previously shunned or decried in a new light. This was another of my take-aways from the Camenzind wanderings.

I find it refreshing and interesting that the story does not have a "natural" or definitive ending, as is regularly the case with similar novels, even those of Hermann Hesse. Many of Peter's plans and ambitions remain unclear and unfulfilled, but his experiences and the things which he has learned and achieved together form part of his identity and his personality, and are the resources on which he will draw as his life moves on.

I would say that Peter Camenzind is one of Hermann Hesse's most concise, rewarding and enchanting works. With its broad but important range of questions it might serve as a useful introduction to the thought-world and style of this remarkable writer.

Narcissus and Goldmund, by Hermann Hesse - revisited....

 It had been some little time since I had read one of the novels of Hermann Hesse. This would seem strange and even curious, as Hesse remains possibly my favourite writer, a writer whose works were a great source of inspiration and comfort during some troubled and uncertain times in my life. Anyway, other matters, and other books, took hold of my attention and curiosity, although I never forgot the stories of Hermann Hesse, and the way in which they had offered me direction and even new ways of looking at the world and the challenges of life.

In returning to the Hesse canon, I chose first to revisit 'Narcissus and Goldmund'. I recalled the strong and vivid effect which it had on me some years ago, even if the minutiae of the plot and the characters would take time to drift back into my consciousness.

Another thought occurred to me as I retrieved the book from the shelf - I expected it to be a stimulating and beneficial read, but I equally wondered whether my interpretation of, and reaction to, it would be the same as before. I have "moved on" in a philosophical sense, since the period when Hesse's works first came to my close attention (and to my assistance).

Basically, the story centres on the relationship between the two titular characters. Narcissus is a scholarly resident at a monastery, now a teacher and set to ascend the ranks and the hierarchy of the institution. The younger Goldmund arrives as a new student/pupil, and the two eventually establish a friendship. The perceptive Narcissus sees that it is not in his young friend's true nature to live a life of secluded scholarship and study; he is an artist. Without giving too much away, Goldmund subsequently takes his leave of the monastery and embarks on years of adventuring and experiences "on the road".

Apart from the author's perpetual concerns regarding self-discovery and spirituality, a more distinct strand of study emerged, namely that of people's awareness of their true nature and the means by which they uncover their true "calling". In this instance Goldmund had the shrewd and visionary Narcissus to perform this function, but it occurs to me that most of us are thwarted in this regard, our potential and true happiness suppressed or blocked by other people, by social structures and even by ourselves, consciously or otherwise. The question, of course, of whether we each have a "destiny" is a whole subject on its own...

Must of us have no figure such as Narcissus, to help us to see what our potentially most rewarding and satisfying future course is. Our true talents and gifts remain undiscovered or at least under-utilized, the secret remaining unlocked.

Humanity has progressed in many respects over the centuries, but this may remain one of the areas where we continue to let ourselves down. One has to ask if modern economic pressures and imperatives are among the factors hampering an improvement.

Going back to the novel, I was once again left animated and enthused by Hesse's simple yet poetic and absorbing language. However, there was something else this time around. I was more attuned to the writer's implied, and even sometimes explicit, criticisms and judgements, especially concerning some aspects of scholasticism and monasticism, and the rigidity of the institutions which uphold and oversee them. Being Hermann Hesse he makes the points in a subtle, gentle and constructive manner. Before I was less sensitive to such charges being levelled by the great man, and this change I expect reflects changes in me over the intervening years.

I suspect that most people who read "Narcissus and Goldmund" find themselves, at some juncture, engaging in a touch of soul-searching, and wondering whether they themselves are closer in character and inclination to Narcissus, or to Goldmund. I was not immune to this process, but my assessments were clouded with caveats, doubts and qualifications.

On reflection, I am probably more a "thinker" than an "artist", but I arrived at this thought via a circuitous route. As I turned the age of thirty, I entered a period which could be best described as ebullient, although unlike Goldmund I did not become a wayfarer. The preceding years had been ones of restraint and reticence, although without the erudition and commitment to study of Narcissus. 

The "outgoing" years, when I look back, were more a case of circumstance and a reaction to the "quiet" years, which were really characterised by passivity on my part, rather than any conscious programme of scholarship or learning. When the spell of relative excess was brought to an end, I realized that my true calling was to be a person of study, contemplation and words. So my true finding of myself occurred later in life than happened with Goldmund, and I was not fortunate enough to have a sounding-board or mentor such as the learned Narcissus. This kind of thing can happen to people, but not as dramatically as in literature, and at different stages and under different guises. In my case I wouldn't describe it as trial and error, but it needed several sea-changes in my life before the clearer picture started to fully emerge.

It is easy to see why, with his examples, his vision and the clarity and appeal of his ideas, Hermann Hesse has been cited as an inspiration for those undertaking the journey of life and of self-discovery. He opens people's eyes to their potential, and their humanity, partly through his evoking of the scope for authenticity and beauty in life and the world. He helps to peel away layers of inertia, apathy and lethargy.

The novels and other writings of Hesse are a deep well of philosophical nourishment from which I draw from time to time, and the works seldom fail to energize and galvanize me.

Running alongside the story of Goldmund's wanderings is the philosophical, and ultimately practical, challenge posed by this tension between the artist and the thinker, the senses and the spirit, the flesh and the mind. Can they be reconciled, made not to complement each other but to act in true union to lead us to fulfilment and realization?  It is a tantalizing prospect, and even if there is substance in the notion it is likely that only a very small fraction of us will attain such a union in a meaningful way.

The chronicling of Goldmund's wanderings, his experiences in forests and with assorted inhabitants of the lands which he passed through, is essayed in a charming yet plausible way, with an eye for detail, shade and colour. More than with most authors, I find my brain and my imagination composing imagery to accompany Hesse's words as they are processed. The cares of the world tend to evaporate, at least temporarily, and I am transported to another world, but a world made very believable, very human.

I would be inclined to assert that "Narcissus and Goldmund" is not one of Hesse's most heavily "philosophical" novels, despite the subject matter which is covered within it. It might be more accurate to declare that the philosophy is less immediately "heavy", onerous and portentous than with some of his other output. To a degree, of course, all novels are "philosophical", but this one is bathed in a very beautiful salve.

An intriguing dimension of the Hermann Hesse universe is the naturalness of the settings. In this instance we are presented with a largely pre-industrial world. Of course the pastoral "idyll" is blemished by difficulties, vices and evils, although they appear at first unlike those which abound in our twenty-first century society. The backdrop is a pleasant enough vehicle, but at times we are reminded of the pernicious realities of those bygone times. It is quite easy to miss these sub-texts when caught up in Hesse's enchanting and fluid prose. It may be that he was wanting to draw some attention to the less enlightened patterns of life in the medieval ages without distracting us unduly from the central direction of the narrative.

There are some passages in this novel which examine the nature of art and artists, and I can see why such discussions may serve as a turn-off to some. However, these sections greatly impressed and intrigued me, especially those which addressed questions of impermanence and the fear of death. 

A message which I drew from the story is that of our goals. Our goals may be vague, but the progress and the journey are more important and valuable than the precise objective itself. The objective, if even partly realised, cannot be "the end", but a new beginning, a prompting to embark on a quest for fresh horizons. So it appears to have been with Goldmund.

The artist/thinker dynamic is enticing but, particularly later in the book, Hesse brings the bourgeois/"bohemian" paradigm to the party. This has exercised my thoughts for some years now, more specifically the constraints and "responsibilities" imposed on individuality by modern economic and cultural pressures. Perhaps it was easier to practically escape bourgeois existence (in its various guises and forms) during the times when the novel is set, even the times when Hesse himself was composing his works. Modern societal norms seemingly make it more difficult to pursue a life parallel to the mainstream. For most of those feeling emasculated or ill-at-ease, maybe the most realistic option is to engage as little as possible with "the system", and strive where possible to achieve some kind of realization and insight. Idealism sometimes has to give way to a measure of pragmatism.

In keeping with his favoured themes, Hesse postulates the notion of cycles and the idea that everything passes, with life characterised by renewal and rebirth. Another central theme is that of the "maternal", the mother figure, and the feminine and masculine conscious and unconscious minds. 

However, the one topic from "Narcissus and Goldmund" which stuck most indelibly in my psyche was this idea of unburdening oneself of experiences, emotions, triumphs and traumas by creating something tangible rather than ephemeral, before venturing on to a new challenge. This process almost sounds like a form of catharsis, and it should ideally be conducted in a non-vicarious way, but I was left asking myself whether it matters what form the "document" should take. Can those who are not blessed with artistic gifts or training benefit from such a "project", provided that it reconciles the two "opposites"?

I viewed the tale, and the subjects tackled, through more of a humanist framework on this occasion, because of my burgeoning interest in humanism and ideas of human flourishing. As with many novels of this kind, however, excessive latching on to one philosophical strand or message can mar or obscure one's overall enjoyment of the art.

"Narcissus and Goldmund" is to my mind one of Hesse's most affecting and finely rounded works, one with the depth and scope to spur the reader into greater contemplation and reflection.

 

Virgin Golf Record File - Alun Evans

 I always find it interesting and thought-provoking to read those books, residing on my shelves but somewhat forgotten and neglected, which were published some years ago.

Recently I dusted off a book called the "Virgin Golf Record File", by Alun Evans. It, or at the least the edition in my possession, was published in the year 2000.

The book contains some nice and informative histories of the various Major championships, tracing and highlighting the waxing and waning of the fortunes and prestige of those championships, and the swings in dominance between American, European and Southern hemisphere players. I really enjoyed the author's examination of some of the cultural and socio-economic factors which influenced the development and growth of these great events. The articles also serve as a history of "competitive" golf in general going back to the middle of the nineteenth century.

As a bit of a sports and statistics nerd myself, I love books such as this one, records and stats being mixed with some textual chronicling and context.

It is interesting that this edition was composed just as the Tiger Woods era was beginning, ushering in changes to the men's game which are still being felt today. 

Another observation is that there is a good deal less about women's golf than there certainly would be in a similar publication today.

It is also instructive to flick through the pages at a time when the men's professional game is garnering more mainstream publicity than for some time, largely because of the "organisational" divisions which have arisen. Parts of the book remind us that down the decades, pro golf was sometimes tranquil and stable, at other stages not so much.

Looking at the statistics sections, one striking trend which stands out is the phenomenal consistency of Jack Nicklaus, notably in the major championships. This was quite a feat, as he was competing at a time when the game was growing more and more global, and increasingly competitive. Nicklaus could easily have won, say, 50% more majors, and put some of his records out of sight. He endured as a force at the top level whilst the careers of others briefly soared and then faded away.  After his rivalries with Arnold Palmer and Gary Player, he then vied with the likes of Trevino, Jacklin, Watson and Ballesteros, and was still a player to be reckoned with even as the likes of Norman, Faldo et al began to take over the reins.

A good little book, all in all.

Formula 1 Fanatic - Koen Vergeer

Maintaining the momentum of my recent reading adventures, that is seeking some perspective and meaning from my library of motor sport-related books, I turned to a title which had hitherto escaped my serious attention; Formula 1 Fanatic, by Koen Vergeer.

Originally published in Dutch, and first seeing the light of day around 2003/2004, this is essentially one person's account and appraisal of his interest in, or obsession with, the sport of Formula 1 racing, going back as far as the early 1970s.

Some of the early chapters genuinely struck a chord with me, bringing strongly to mind my own burgeoning immersion in the same world, although my journey commenced approximately a decade after Vergeer's.  There is a temptation for me to feel embarrassed or defensive about the nature of my early "fandom", and the naivete which was at the heart of it, but this is tempered when we appreciate that we all go through such phases at that stage of our lives. Let's face it, such diversions are probably more healthy and harmless than much of what we will engage in later in life.

I found the author's opinions and interpretations on some matters refreshingly different and well argued, especially his thoughts on some of the historical personalities and events of the F1 world. His opinions on people such as Nelson Piquet are very interesting. It is nice to get a fresh view, detached from the stereotypical portrayals which become so prevalent and self-perpetuating.

The version which I have read is the English one, and it may be that the translation from the Dutch accounts for some quirks in the language and words used, but this does not detract from the central mission; nor do the occasional factual inaccuracies.

Working my way through Formula 1 Fanatic, it was difficult to ascertain a particular ethos or mode of thinking as regards racing. Beyond the usual mild idealism, for me a certain ambiguity emerges, and it could be convincingly argued that this is a good trait to have for a Formula 1 devotee.

The anecdotes concerning the writer's experiences in following racing are strong and quite evocative, and they come over as sincere. Importantly, they do not become excessively sentimental, and they are instrumental in building the picture. These passages help to lift the book above the mundane, and to make it a genuinely stimulating and valuable "memoir".

In my estimation, the book really comes into its own with the series of chapters which examines the careers, strengths, weaknesses and vagaries of the leading drivers of Vergeer's era. The author demonstrates a keen sense of nuance in looking beyond mass-media platitudes, whether it be analysing Ayrton Senna's beliefs or the psyche of Damon Hill. Vergeer comes close to laying bare the very essence of Formula 1. These are frank and in-depth appraisals, and they are a pleasure to read.

In amongst all this material, I was made keenly aware that Formula 1 has somehow, since the early 2000s, become too "ordinary", too anodyne. It has lost sight of its mission, and its raison d'etre has become distorted and diluted. When certain things happened, for example some of the Prost/Senna confrontations, I was repelled, but after having relived the salient points in this book, I was reminded at what a stratospheric level - sporting, psychological and human - that drama was played out. Despite what today's hyperbole and PR spin might attempt to convince us, there will never be anything to compare with Prost versus Senna. It was not really manufactured or contrived, more a case of inevitability.

There is a sharpness and an acuity in the author's outlook and observations, and his weighing of factors, which truly impressed me. The "philosophical" sections are relatively brief, but thought-provoking, and perhaps even more relevant in 2022, almost two decades after the original publication of Formula 1 Fanatic. Questions about the sport's relevance and "soul" are more pressing and pertinent than ever before.

I was gratified to see that the Schumacher-Hakkinen epoch of the late 90s and early 2000s is given due prominence and attention. As the author hints at, this was the sport distilled down to its core - pure unalloyed F1, in which all of the elements which make (made?) the sport unique were tested. Perhaps the last era of its type which we will ever see, save for flickerings such as Suzuka 2005. Vergeer covers the 1998-2001 years in some detail, and with some style and shrewdness.

Increasingly I sensed that the author and myself were on something approximating to the same wavelength. I could identify with many of his sentiments about accidents, about having to defend and explain this passion with outsiders and "non-believers", as it were. There is also the ambivalence which regularly rises to the surface, almost a form of shame, and that "addictive" quality. Many readers will I am sure find themselves in accord with the writer's feelings and emotions.

Rightly or wrongly, I detected another characteristic; a tacit acceptance that some unpalatable things cannot interfere with "the show" and that, despite occasional protestations and periods of disaffection, the compulsion to watch or follow still remained. 

As mentioned above, the manner in which the author relates pivotal Formula 1 moments to his own personal experiences and memories gives his writing an additional dimension. His life has grown and changed with the sport, along with some striving to retain some of the innocence and simplicity of those earlier days.

This is an astute and well thought-out book, quite absorbing . Putting aside (very) minor reservations, this is a rewarding read. Much more authoritative and credible than supposedly more "cerebral" motorsport "literature". 

Taking a broader view, this book furnished me with an enhanced feeling of how confident, vibrant and assured the world seemed in the late 1990s and early 2000s. If only they, and we, had known that stormy waters (and storm clouds) loomed ahead, in the form of economic crises and other traumas, and what appeared to be a general loss of nerve. At the same time, when I reflect on my own navigation of those "good" times, it may have been too good to be true. Short-termism, a blindness to certain fundamentals, and a failure to address pressing issues. The last decade or so may well have served as a form of reckoning.

Inside The Mind of The Grand Prix Driver - Christopher Hilton

Following my reading of the book Deadly Obsessions, I threw myself into another motor-racing-related work, Inside The Mind of The Grand Prix Driver, written by the late Christopher Hilton (the edition I read dates from 2003). The latter book covered similar ground to Deadly Obsessions, but felt more substantial and absorbing in some respects.

I am not really sure to what extent the book truly gets "inside the mind" of the driver, but I found this to be quite an engaging and illuminating look at the world inhabited by racing pilots, tending to belie some of the assessments which I have seen elsewhere. The interviews with drivers are very revealing, and often entertaining.

There are some valuable nuggets of information about the career paths of certain drivers, and we see how precarious and stressful the driver's existence is, with constant anxiety about job security and one's status within team and sport.  It is true to say that the pressures and the intensity rise with each passing year, but it sounds as though the situation was pretty fraught and demanding even in the early 1980s!

The recollections of various Grand Prix competitors really do bring home the notion of the "survival of the fittest" being one of the main guiding principles of the F1 firmament. To many this might seem like an indictment of the sport, a recognition that one must be ruthless and grasping in order to not just succeed, but merely survive. On the other hand, I was quite inspired by being immersed in this rarefied atmosphere, where the mental and psychological faculties and capabilities are stretched to the limits.

Some of the drivers do come across as deluded in their assessments of their abilities, achievements and relative worth, but these traits have to be placed in the context of the necessity to survive, the nature of the beast. Outsiders, real outsiders, would have difficulty comprehending and appreciating all these things. Anything that helps them cope....

In one or two cases I was left wondering whether the drivers' pronouncements constituted posturing and bravado, a front which enabled them to navigate choppy and hostile waters. I suspect that many "lesser lights" have to put on an act, whereas the true greats can more or less take certain attributes for granted, without having to constantly broadcast their prevalence or importance.

It is pointed out in the book that after they retire from racing some drivers mellow, realise that they no longer require "extreme" attitudes or motivations. Others may have been "contaminated" more profoundly by their experiences and remain in "F1 mode" long after they hang up their helmets.

One of the tests of a book for me is the degree to which it instilled in me an enhanced knowledge and understanding of a subject at hand. This work, on balance, does pass that test. The contributions of Jonathan Palmer, Julian Bailey, Perry McCarthy, Martin Donnelly and Allan McNish I found especially instructive, for differing reasons.

To return to the theme which I sought to develop in my article about Deadly Obsessions, did I learn anything from the Hilton book about how the world has changed in the past two decades? Not really, as this is a drier and less emotive exploration of the F1 community.

Deadly Obsessions - Life and Death in Formula One - Phil Shirley

Upon reviewing my bookshelves in the Spring of 2022, it has come to my attention that many of the books which reside on said shelves are of a similar vintage. Most of them were purchased or received over ten years ago, and I am left wondering how "dated" some of them have become, and to what degree their philosophical orientation, apparently to my approval back then, remains so today.

I decided to treat one book as a "test bed" for my theories. Picked almost at random, my gaze alighted on Deadly Obsessions - Life and Death in Formula One, by Phil Shirley. This work, which was originally published around the year 2000, is essentially an exploration of racing drivers' attitudes towards their chosen profession. Whilst the book was not exactly a masterwork, it did serve my purposes. I think the world started to change when I was not looking, or at least when I was not paying sufficient attention.

The odd factual error, and the occasional inconsistency, did ever so slightly mar my enjoyment of Deadly Obsessions. That said, there is some valuable and intriguing material in the book, although I gained the impression that the author embellished certain episodes in order to replenish his supplies of case studies. 

How convenient also that some of these drivers apparently encountered "premonitions", and contemplated withdrawing from the events in which they would perish or be injured. The talk of premonitions and such-like should be treated with a drum of salt.

The thought occurred to me that this type of analysis of motor racing and its participants is out of kilter with todays sanitized, digital, video-game-like incarnation of the sport. In 1999, some semblance of the visceral and gladiatorial pursuit of yore remained, or at least was detectable in recent memory.

To return to my original premise, what piqued my antennae when shuffling through the pages of Deadly Obsessions was just how noticeably the world has altered in some respects, by way of tone, outlook and "narrative", in the space of two-and-a-bit decades. The roots of some of these shifts were admittedly already present in 1999/2000, if one was smart or perceptive enough to know where to look.

Talk of "masculinity" and "male identity" would clearly, ahem, raise eyebrows if employed nowadays. I do think, however, that examining and discussing such topics is still valid, if one embraces a more inclusive mindset overall.

In more general, "moral" terms, I sense that the mentalities and attitudes, or at least some of them, on display in the book, would be eschewed even by todays Formula 1 competitors, against the backdrop of a more sentimental, hyper-sensitive age. The views on "life and death", safety and risk have changed, if perhaps not as radically as some might imagine, The opinions of Jacques Villeneuve, for example, on such matters would be even more vigorously debated and scrutinized now than they were around the turn of the millennium.

One thing which I liked about the book was its use of short, snappy and digestible chapters. The book was also instructive, in that it illustrated a certain demarcation in philosophies and approaches between drivers. These separations might well have been mirrored in "real life". There were (and are) the rationalists, the romantics, the pragmatists and so forth.

This was not too bad a read, although I think my appraisal of its literary merits have to be viewed in the the context of how my horizons in this area have broadened since 2010. Reading classical and modernist literature, and studying the work of the great philosophers, can render other types of reading matter rather mediocre and shallow by comparison.

I may well continue this new "project" of mine; reading books which were published before the social media era. It will, I think, sharpen my appreciation, and understanding of, recent social and cultural history. One observation which did make its claims on me was how confident and assured the world seemed in 1999/2000. Today's uncertainties and regressions only throw this assessment into sharper focus.

Berkmann's Pop Miscellany - Marcus Berkmann

As part of some festival which occurred in late December 2021, I received a gift in the form of this book, Berkmann's Pop Miscellany, by Marcus Berkmann.  It struck me at the time as the type of book which was a quintessential gift given at the time of the aforementioned festival. Consequently, I did not get around to reading it until recently.

The bulk of this tome is made up of "pen portraits", of varying lengths, of assorted luminaries from the world of music. These are broken up with other content, most of which relates to songs and albums which the author considers to be noteworthy in some way.

I found the author's quirky and impish humour to be endearing at first. In his views on music and musicians he does not seek to conform with trends and what is perceived to be cool. He makes it clear what kinds of music he is drawn to, and whilst I consider myself to have possibly the most eclectic musical tastes in the known universe, his arguments are bright and persuasive.

Although I did not agree with all of Berkmann's opinions, and did not concur with all of his reasoning, the anecdotes and stories were invariably entertaining and often very funny.  He is not trying to appear as a contrarian, but rather comes across as honest, unpretentious and sincere in his inclinations. This is actually quite refreshing when I think of much of the music-related literature which I have been exposed to down the years. 

The paragraphs contain lots of amusing tales of music-industry chaos, and in places these elaborated or expanded usefully on already well-known stories. All of this is delivered in a breezy and digestible style. 

If I was to venture one criticism it would be that, as the book progresses, it becomes a touch "formulaic", and relies too much on the same styles of jokes and humour. It even threatens to become slightly smug. Then again, I don't think this was intended to be a major work of scholarship, or to be taken too seriously.

In spite of the minor criticism outlined above, I found this to be quite an enjoyable book.