1/3/2007 - Elizabeth Taylor turns 75

To honour one of the most defining movie stars of the 20th century, Interview dedicated its February issue to Elizabeth Taylor, who turned 75 on the 27th last month. That gave me the idea to add some entries to one of my favourite actresses.  

I love Elizabeth Taylor for her character, for her wit, her strength, her never ending love/hate relationship with the media, fed by her battles with food, alcohol and above all: love. I love Elizabeth Taylor for her entertainment value, which has given her worldwide audience so much to enjoy. But above all I love her for her portrayal of Maggie the Cat in Cat on a hot tin roof, based on the play by Tennessee Williams, and for her portrayal of Martha in Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?, based on the play by Edward Albee. I would choose these two plays as my most favourite plays of all time and I have no doubt Elizabeth Taylor has played an important part in this choice.

I’d like to start with a question from the Interview article What’s the one question that you’ve always wanted to ask Elizabeth Taylor but were afraid to ask?

The following question by Antony (Hegarty, from Antony and the Johnsons) caught my attention:

I think Elizabeth Taylor gives the perfect answer in some of her most famous quotes:

18/2/2007 - Poetry - 'Father-in-law' by Derek Mahon

Father-in-Law

While your widow clatters water into a kettle

You lie at peace in your southern grave -

A sea captain who died at sea, almost.

Lost voyager, what would you think of me,

Husband of your fair daughter but impractical?

You stare from the mantelpiece, a curious ghost

In your peaked cap, as we sit down to tea.

The bungalows still signal to the sea,

Rain wanders the golf course as in your day,

The river flows past the distillery

And a watery sun shines on Portballintrae.

I think we would have had a lot in common -

Alcohol and the love of one woman

Certainly; but I failed the eyesight test

When I tried for the Merchant Navy,

And lapsed into this lyric lunacy.

When you lost your balance like Li Po

They found unfinished poems in your sea-chest.

Portballintrae: Small fishing town in the north of Northern Ireland

A few years ago I bought The Faber book of contemporary Irish poetry. In this volume, poet Paul Muldoon (a very interesting contemporary poet himself) has collected some of the best poetry of ten 20th century Irish poets. In the two years that I have had this book, it has grown to become one of my favourite volumes of poetry and I often pick one of the ten poets represented here and read a few of their poems just before I go to sleep. Patrick Kavanagh, Louis MacNeice and Seamus Heaney (see entry 15 December 2006) are just a few of the names represented in this volume.

Derek Mahon (born 1941) is one of my other favourites. In a survey conducted by the Irish Times in 1999 he was among the ten most popular writers (living and dead) in Ireland and the above illustration of his poetic craftsmanship may explain why.

When I read this poem last week, the images presented stuck in my head and for several nights I had to read it before I went to sleep. This is the sort of poetry I love best; (seemingly) simple and straightforward language creating a very poetic image.

I especially like the main theme of the poem; the idea that we can feel (for whichever reason) a connection with a mind we have never known in life, a mind that is no longer amongst the living. I avoid the word 'dead', as it is exactly the non-dead state this person has gone through that establishes this bond and that will continue to do so.

The opening lines are beautiful and captivating. The noise of the clattering water is set against the peacefulness of the grave, thus creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity from the start of the poem.

The poet is looking for analogies with his father in law, the fourth line is a strong indication that he has never known him in life. He almost tries to apologise for the fact he has become a poet and dedicates his time to this 'lyric lunacy' but at the end the father in law appears to have had poetic aspirations as well, but they were safely hidden in his sea-chest, only to be found after his death. The introspective mind that lies behind all this will only enhance the connection the poet feels with his father in law.

The poet Li Po who is being mentioned near the end, is one of the most famous representatives of the classical Chinse poetry from the T'ang dynasty (618-907). More about these poets in a future entry. I do not know anything about the incident Mahon refers to in this poem and that has apparently led to the death of Li Po, nor do I know anything about the way his father in law died. But I rather let the poem speak for itself. 

Portballintrae is a small fishing town in the north of Northern Ireland. The tranquillity on some photos I found through the net seems to be the right background for this beautiful and introspective string of thoughts.

23/1/2007 - Today's quote - W.C.Fields

More people are driven insane through religious hysteria than by drinking alcohol.

After good old Mae West yesterday, why not another quote from good old W.C.Fields today? Even though they played together only once (in My Little Chickadee, 1940), I can't think of two actors that better suited one another. Today's quote transcends the 'fun' bit and carries a message that is very true and very relevant.  

19/1/2007 - Strong opinions - Martin Amis in The Independent

Martin Amis: You Ask The Questions - The Independent, 15 January 2007

Are you an Islamophobe? ALISDAIR GRAY, Edinburgh

No. What I am is an Islamismophobe. Or better say an anti-Islamist because a phobia is an irrational fear, and there is nothing irrational about fearing someone who professedly wants to kill you. The form that Islamophobia is now taking - the harassment and worse of Muslim women in the street - disgusts me. It is mortifying to be part of a society in which any minority feels under threat. On the other hand, no society on earth, no society imaginable, could frictionlessly absorb a day like 7 July.

Can the war on terror be won? AMBER ALWAN, by email

When historians come to write about this era, I persistently imagine, they will begin by saying that, at first, the West panicked and wildly overreacted, and that the strategy for prevailing was slow to crystallise. Remember the axiom: the danger of terrorism lies not in what it inflicts but in what it provokes. September 11 could be contained and survived; the ramifications of the Iraq war are still unknowable, and are already vast and multiform. Islamism has received a great boost from its rejection of reason and its embrace of death, both of which are hugely energising, as Lenin and Hitler well understood. But Islamism is simply too poisonous to survive for very long. What happened within Islam was not a civil war (between the moderates and the radicals); it was more like a revolution - a revolution which is already starting to devour its children. We won't "win", exactly. But there will come an end to the Age of Vanished Normalcy.

What is the most depressing thing about Britain you have observed since your return? And the best? GRANT MULLIN, Surrey.

The most depressing thing was the sight of middle-class white demonstrators, last August, waddling around under placards saying, We Are All Hizbollah Now. Well, make the most of being Hizbollah while you can. As its leader, Hasan Nasrallah, famously advised the West: "We don't want anything from you. We just want to eliminate you." Similarly, when I went on Question Time the other week, a woman in the audience, her voice quavering with self-righteousness, presented the following argument: since it was America that supported Osama bin Laden when he was fighting the Russians, the US armed forces, in response to September 11, "should be dropping bombs on themselves!" And the audience applauded. It is quite an achievement. People of liberal sympathies, stupefied by relativism, have become the apologists for a creedal wave that is racist, misogynist, homophobic, imperialist, and genocidal. To put it another way, they are up the arse of those that want them dead.

The best thing has been to find myself living in what, despite its faults (despite a million ills), is an extraordinarily successful multi-racial society. This is a beautiful idea, with a good chance of becoming a beautiful reality, too.

For the full article, see http://news.independent.co.uk/people/profiles/article2154795.ece

With thanks to The Australian for mentioning and quoting from the article

18/1/2007 - Book review - 'Camus at Combat'

When the Allied forces invaded North Africa in 1942, the Germans occupied the southern 'free zone' in France. This meant that Albert Camus was cut off from his wife and mother in Algeria, unable to return home. The publication of his first novel The Stranger and the long essay The myth of Sysiphus had granted him fame in literary circles. At the time he was working on what was to become his next big novel, The Pest, which would appear after the war in 1946. In Paris he started working as a proof reader for his publisher Gallimard, where he met Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.

Camus often felt lonely and the sombre weather in occupied France made him miss Algeria even more. He found a solution for his loneliness by joining the Resistance movement Combat, which had been founded in 1941. Over the years, Camus' role in the resistance movement has grown into a myth as he only engaged in some illegal activities. This was partly due to the leaders of Combat themselves. They acknowledged the importance of the writer Camus and it was in this role that he would prove most valuable for Combat after they started publishing the underground newspaper.

The first article by Camus appeared in March 1944, even though he didn't sign the article with his own name for security reasons. However, most scholars attribute the article Against total war, Total resistance to Camus. In this article Camus referred to one of the issues that would soon become part of his recurrent themes: The fact that war affected us all. 'For even is there are those who would prefer to remain in the comfortable position of judges, that is not possible. You cannot say, "This doesn't concern me." Because it does concern you.'

To underline this idea, Camus wrote the article For three Hours they shot Frenchmen for the May issue of Combat. On April 1, 1944, an attack was launched on a railway line, leading to the derailment of two cars of a German troop train. Even though there were no casualties, the Germans killed eighty-six men from the nearby village of Ascq. 'Eighty-six men just like you, the readers of this newspaper, passed before the German guns. Eighty-six men: enough to fill three or four rooms the size of the room you're sitting in. Eighty-six faces, drawn or defiant, eighty-six faces overwhelmed by horror or by hatred.'

This early piece is one of the strongest, most emphatic articles Camus wrote for Combat. In his foreword David Carroll rightfully states that more than for their historical or literary value, the importance of these articles is above all a political one. The four years that span these articles see the optimistic tone in the last months of the war and in the first post-war articles change dramatically into a more bitter and resigned tone in the years that would follow. The naive idea that the horror of the occupation and especially the fate of so many of its victims, including many members of the resistance, might create an atmosphere of unity in which all parties would combine their forces proved to be an illusion. That may seem like an obvious statement in our times, it was nothing less than a bitter deception in the enthusiasm that permeated the first post-war months. Next to the three above mentioned values, I would like to add one more dimension this publication shows more than anything else: that of the disillusioned mind. After a few months Camus started to realise that the unity he longed and hoped for would not be achieved. Post-war France was united in its disgust for the occupiers and those collaborating with the enemy but the pre-war divisions would begin to show soon enough. Camus shifted his attention completely to what he considered his main task: to defend justice and to make sure that France would not completely return to the pre-war situation. He often mentions the word 'revolution', but to him this meant a society based on social-democratic values, with equality for everyone. 'We shall therefore define "justice" as a social state in which each individual is granted every opportunity at the outset and in which the majority of the country's population is not kept in a shameful condition by a privileged minority.'

These aims in themselves were difficult enough. France had to deal with some very strong and divisive issues. How to deal with the traitors? When and how to impose the death penalty, if it could be imposed at all? Camus' opposition to the death penalty would grow over the years. 'It is with this dreadful precedent still fresh in our minds that we must take a position. Will we approve of this sentence or won't we? That is the heart of the issue, and it is a terribly difficult one.' Once and for all Camus wanted to make clear that France owed it to itself to exert full justice, even and maybe especially if that involved its harshest collaborators. The fact that Camus signed a petition against the death penalty for collaborationist writer Robert Brasillach is illustrative enough. It didn't save Brasillach from execution.

The risk of turning into the embodiment of evil that would rival the crimes of the occupiers might seem far away, the new democracy would have to make sure that it would do anything possible to avoid excesses. 'The cowardly crimes of our adversaries do not excuse our becoming cowardly and criminal in turn.' This was extra hard considering the embarrassing and painful Vichy-legacy. The South of France was the domain of the so-called 'free zone' lead by General Pétain, a World War I veteran who turned into a collaborator when he became the head of the Vichy government in 1940. The Pétain government remained officially in power after the Germans occupied the free zone in 1942, but of course the new situation diminished their authority dramatically.

Camus' ideas definitely resonate in discussions on actual current affairs. In many of the articles that have been brought together in this volume, we read the stance that Camus would elaborate in his long essay The Rebel, to be published in 1951, in which Camus shows himself a strong advocate against the killing of innocent civilians, no matter what the final political aim might be. 'For terror can be legitimised only if one adopts the principle that the end justifies the means. And this principle can be embraced only if the efficacy of an action is taken to be an absolute end, as in nihilist ideologies (...) or philosophies that take history as an absolute.' As this statement implied a strong opposition to Stalin's gulags, it would result in Camus' definitive break with Sartre, who saw in Camus a traitor of the world revolution. Simone de Beauvoir would show herself even harsher in her judgement.

As stated above, these articles may at times seem flawed by the initial naiveté that was so overwhelming right after the liberation, and with the legacy of the horror of World War II and four years of occupation. But at the same time the articles are most interesting for the new light they shine on Camus' thoughts and work. It goes too far to mention every aspect, but it may suffice to quote the following remark, which is another echo of the actual situation: 'The Western nations must stop looking upon the Middle East as a closed preserve over which ownership is to be asserted. (...) Clearly the conflicts in the Middle East would not have turned this bitter is not for the presence of rich oil fields.'

The publication of Camus at Combat seems to be part of a renewed interest in his works. The exemplary translation by Arthur Goldhammer offers very interesting reading, for all the above mentioned reasons. It is a political and historical document, it shows the seeds of Camus' ideas about justice and judgement that would come to full bloom in The Rebel and in his last famous short novel The Fall (1957). At his best moments Camus shows why he was the compelling author that would grow to gain literary world fame.

KB

16/1/2007 - Strong opinions - Tanveer Ahmed in The Australian

I just read an opinion article by Tanveer Ahmed in The Australian, titled: Not bedfellows, but a political attraction, about the strange and alarming marriage between Islamism and the extreme left:

'As a new year begins, the combination of Saddam Hussein's execution, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca by Muslims and another outburst by the cartoon-like Sheik Taj Din al-Hilali maintain the place of politics and Islam at the centre of world affairs.

Meanwhile, many progressive groups are increasingly finding common cause with radical Muslims.

Political outrage towards international conflicts, especially with regard to the Middle East, conjures up some odd images in the modern era. For example, during protests against last year's war in Lebanon, alliances between left-wing and Muslim groups produced images of union leaders wearing the kaffiyeh, the headgear made famous by Yasser Arafat, of the Socialist Alliance marching adjacent to the Hezbollah flag, and of environmental supporters trying to mouth an occasional "Allahu Akbar". '

For the full article, please go to:

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,21063691-7583,00.html

Over the past year, this Sydney based psychiatry registrar and writer has become my favourite voice within moderate islam in Australia. Tanveer Ahmed describes things as they are, without hiding behind the eternal excuses of victimhood, 'racism' and 'words being misinterpreted'. For me he is the embodiment of how a modern Western lifestyle can go hand in hand with being a muslim and living according to the principles of one's faith.

16/1/2007 - Personal documents - 'The Journals' by John Cheever

'When the beginnings of self-destruction enter the heart it seems no bigger than a grain of sand. It is a headache, a slight case of indigestion, an infected finger; but you miss the 8:20 and arrive late at the meeting on credit extensions. The old friend that you meet for lunch suddenly exhausts your patience and in an effort to be pleasant you drink three cocktails, but by now the day has lost its form, its sense and meaning. To try and restore some purpose and beauty to it you drink too much at cocktails you talk too much you make a pass at somebody's wife and you end with doing something foolish and obscene and wish in the morning that you were dead. But when you try to trace back the way you came into this abyss all you find is a grain of sand.'

In this (fifties) entry John Cheever describes in one paragraph the tone you can expect if you read one of his Collected Stories. More than qualifying a story like the above as 'depressing', it shows how much John Cheever was a truely 'emotional' writer in the non-sentimental sense of the word (I'd rather speak of a 'human' sense). Honest (Cheever only overcame his long battle with alcohol at a later stage in his life), straightforward and oh so beautiful. It made John Cheever into one of the best, most famous and most prolific short story writers of post-war America.

11/1/2007 - Philosophy - Voltaire and Cioran

Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd

French philosopher Voltaire (1694-1778) has become the embodiment of the Enlightenment, the philosophical movement that paved the way for our freedom of speech as we know it today (and that we often take too much for granted). To underline this basic human right, the following quote by Voltaire:

Think for yourselves and let others enjoy the privilege to do so too

I was struck by the first quote above, because I think doubt is not only a beautiful but also an essential quality in man (and woman). For me doubt is an essential trait; it isn't something that weakens the mind and character, on the contrary; it can only reinforce the mind. I like to be challenged all the time as I don't claim that I know the ultimate truth. The quest for truth is a most fascinating journey, but I know that in the end it will be very hard to find. 

When I read this quote by Voltaire, I was reminded of my favourite 20th century thinker/philosopher E.M.Cioran, who defends not only man's right to doubt himself, but even his right to contradict himself at times. I couldn't agree more. Like I said, I don't pretend to know the truth and even though I firmly defend my beliefs, I always like to listen to different opinions, to test and eventually refocus these beliefs. Suppress your certainties, suppress above all their consequences: you will reconstitute paradise, so says Cioran in the first chapter of his landmark book A short history of decay (1949). Note that he uses the word 'certainties' and not 'beliefs'.

Even though he didn't believe in God, Cioran considered man's claim to speak in the name of God and to possess the universal truth as the original sin, the fall from paradise and the beginning of all disaster. So, thanks to Voltaire for placing doubt above certainty, even though I am fully aware it won't regain paradise.

For more Cioran, see entries 1, 9 and 23 November 2006

10/1/2007 - Philosophy - Plato's 'Phaedo'

‘When Socrates heard this he laughed gently and said, ‘I am surprised at you, Simmias. I shall certainly find it difficult to convince the outside world that I do not regard my present lot as a misfortune if I cannot even convince you, and you are afraid that I am more irritable now than I used to be. Evidently you think that I have less insight into the future than a swan; because when these birds feel that the time has come for them to die, they sing more loudly and sweetly than they have sung in all their lives before, for joy that they are going away into the presence of the god whose servants they are. It is quite wrong for human beings to make out that the swans sing their last song as an expression of grief at their approaching end; people who say this are misled by their own fear of death, and fail to reflect that no bird sings when it is hungry or cold or distressed in any other way; not even the nightingale or swallow or hoopoe, whose songs are supposed to be a lament. In my opinion neither they nor the swans sing because they are sad. I believe that the swans, belonging as they do to Apollo, have prophetic powers and sing because they know the good things that await them in the unseen world; and they are happier on that day than they have been ever before. Now I consider that I am in the same service as the swans, and dedicated to the same god; and that I am no worse endowed with prophetic powers by my master than they are, and no more disconsolate at leaving this life. So far as that fear of yours is concerned, you may say and ask whatever you like, for as long as the eleven officers of the Athenians permit.’

Plato: The last days of Socrates, Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Phaedo. Penguin Classics, p. 144. (Pheado)

Socrates’ words on the swan-song prior to his own death are amongst the most beautiful texts about death and dying that I know. It has been some years since I last read the Phaedo, but when I found this Penguin Classics edition yesterday in Elizabeth’s Bookstore, Newtown, I decided straight away to buy it. Always nice to have both the Dutch and English translations of such major texts in ancient philosophy.

The first thing I looked up was the swan song passage. My first acquaintance with this text was years ago when I read these words at the funeral of a friend, who had chosen this text to be read during this occasion. Shortly afterwards, I read the complete Euthyphro, Apology, Crito and Phaedo; the fate of Socrates, the first true philosopher in Western history. He was sentenced to death on charges of ‘impiety and corrupting young minds’. He accepted his fate and in Crito he counters the arguments of friends urging him to escape.

The Phaedo reads like a gospel. The work is focused on the soul that disengages itself from the body, for the true philosopher not a moment to deplore but rather a moment to rejoice, as it means that the final stage of the soul’s journey has arrived. He therefore compares himself with the swans, fellow-servants of Apollo, god of prophecy. In that way this work reminds me of Montaigne’s essay To philosophize is to learn how to die (see entry 15/11/2006).

A gospel or not, religious or not, this work that is amongst the most famous texts Plato has written, is in itself a classic work the reader can enjoy just for the beauty of its words.

9/1/2007 - Tagged...and it's another Bukowksi entry

I have officially been tagged by Deena. The rules are as follows:

Find the nearest book.-
Name the book and the author.-
Turn to page 123.-
Go to the fifth sentence on the page.-
Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.-
Tag three more folks.

So, having just finished Selected Letters 1 by Charles Bukowski, I started to read volume 2 yesterday. What better candidate to choose for this subject? And here's page 123, fifth sentence and following:

'I am still listening to Bruckner 9th. do you think I am cultured, little girl? I like this stuff. if I weren't so poor I'd make a beautiful snob. even now I think I could be a music critic for the New York Times if they's let me. but they wouldn't. before I was finished they'd burn the Times down or some music lover would assassinate me. ' 

[The 'little girl' is Carl Weissner, publisher and Bukowski's future literary agent in Germany. As you can see, Bukowski didn't care too much for placing a capital at the beginning of a sentence.]

[Charles Bukowski, Selected Letters Volume 2: 1965-1970, Virgin Books - If you are interested in this book and live in Melbourne, try Horton Books, 100 Smith Street, Collingwood. That's where I found all my copies!]

As to the last part of the 'tagged' task: I really couldn't come up with three names, so anybody reading this, please feel free to join the game!

[For more Bukowski, please see entries 13 and 28 december 2006]

5/1/2007 - Today's oneliner - Homer Simpson

Of course, it's all just a matter of interpretation...

Here in France, no one calls me "fat jerk". I'm a "gourmand."

Homer Simpson

28/12/2006 - Personal documents - 'Selected Letters' by Charles Bukowski

As I enjoy Bukoswki's letters very much, here's another quote from a letter dated May 1962, most probably the 15th:

You would expect Bukowski to prefer jazz or rock, but in these letters he refers many times to his love for classical music, even though the above described setting is very 'Bukowskian'. I love this quote, as I often have the same thoughts (be it not in these 'eloquent' words) whenever I visit a classical concert. But I must say I prefer the crowds in Sydney to the 'stiff phoney crows' I usually came across at concerts in the Amsterdam Concert Gebouw.

Charles Bukowski: Selected Letters Volume 1, 1958-1965. This edition published by Virgin Books, 2004.

For more Bukowski, see entry 13/12/2006

21/12/2006 - Philosophy - from 'The Rebel' by Albert Camus

Albert Camus (1913-1960) is one of the best known French writers of the 20st century. In 1957 he received the Nobel Prize for literature. His work seemed almost forgotten, but the last years were marked by a renewed interest in his work. The following text is a paragraph from his 1951 Essay 'The Rebel':

'Likewise, absolute nihilism, which is willing to justify suicide, advances even more easily to logical murder. If our time admits with equanimity that murder has its justification, this is because of the indifference to life which is the mark of nihilism. Certainly there have been periods in which the passion for living was so strong that it too rushed into criminal excesses. But these excesses were the outcome of a terrible enjoyment. They were not the monotonous course of events, set in motion by a compulsive logic, in whose eyes everything is equal. This logic has carried those suicidal values on which our era was nurtured to their final consequence, which is the legitimatisation of murder. Likewise, it culminates in collective suicide. The most striking demonstration was furnished by the Hitlerian apocalypse of 1945. Self-destruction meant nothing to those madmen who, in their bomb-shelters, arranged their own death and apotheosis. The important thing was not to die alone, and simultaneously to destroy a whole world. In a way, the man who kills himself in solitude still recognizes a value, since, manifestly, he claims no right to the lives of other people. The proof of this is that he never uses, in order to dominate others, the terrible strength and freedom which he gains from his decision to die; every act of solitary self-destruction, when it does not proceed from passion, is in some way generous or scornful. But one is scornful on behalf of something. If the world is a matter of indifference to the suicide, this is because he has an idea of something which is not or could not be indifferent to him. One thinks that one will destroy everything or take everything along with one; but from this very death a value arises which would, perhaps, have justified existence. Absolute negation is therefore not achieved by suicide. It can be achieved only by absolute destruction, of both oneself and everybody else. Or at least it can be experienced only by striving toward that delectable end. Suicide and murder are thus two aspects of a single system, the system of an unhappy intellect which rather than suffer limitation chooses the dark victory which annihilates earth and heaven.'

Albert Camus - The Rebel (1951), Author’s Introduction, p.14-15. (Penguin Classics)

My renewed interest in French writer/philosopher Albert Camus (whose books I hadn’t read for about two decades) made me read the English edition of his 1951 essay The Rebel. This book marked the definite split between Camus and Jean Paul Sartre (and Simone de Beauvoir).

After World War II, Camus wanted to see France united and striving towards a new (democratic-socialist) society, away from the pre-war ‘bourgeois’ situation, but also steering away of the communists, who had played such an essential role in the French resistance. Even though Camus had been a member of the Communist Party since his early twenties, the existence of Stalin’s gulags, a fact the West started to get more and more informed about, made him break with the party.

In The Rebel Camus opposes Stalin’s camps and as such he was an object of scorn for Sartre and De Beauvoir, both of whom turned a blind eye, as the gulags would ultimately lead to a ‘better’ (read: bolshevist) society. (They made the same mistake in the next decades when they wholeheartedly supported Mao’s ‘cultural revolution‘, which culminated in at least 60 million deaths, which made Mao the biggest mass murderer of the 20th century). It is striking that the attitude of Sartre and De Beauvoir was the general attitude of the Western so-called ‘intellectuals’ in the fifties. (One often wonders what exactly was so ‘intellectual’ about them, other than a well-played game of political opportunism). Camus was looked upon with disdain. How did he dare betray the ‘revolutionary ideals‘?

When I read this part of the Author’s Introduction, I was struck by the relevance of this text for today’s situation. I don’t have to go into detail, everybody knows about those who use the nihilistic method of suicide to create mass murder. I also don’t have to stress how many present day ‘intellectuals’ wholeheartedly side with the nihilists, this without the slightest touch of criticism about their methods. The name of British MP George Galloway comes to mind, but his name is only one of many.

For me Camus is a beacon of dignity and decency, of calm, rational thinking in a world that by the minute turns more and more insane. The Rebel is only one of his works that shows how relevant he can still be for any real intellectual discussion in our times.

KC

Most of the works of Albert Camus are available in Penguin Classics.

For more on Camus, please see entry 18/11/2006

20/12/2006 - Strong Opinions - 'Taking a stand for all animals' by Katrina Sharman

Well, today seems to be the day for politics. I just read the following article by Katrina Sharman on On Line Opinion. I don't want to spoil your Christmas (most probably I will eat meat myself), still it is something to think about every now and then. Mankind in general still thinks they can do with animals whatever they like. Repulsive!

'Approximately 9.5 billion animals are slaughtered every year in the US. Take a moment to consider that number, because it is truly staggering. Many of these intelligent, sentient animals never see the light of day and never feel the earth under their feet. If America is a beacon of freedom and justice for its human inhabitants, it seems that its beneficial rays have never reached the nation’s farm animals.

Of course, back home in the lucky country, our animals are faring little better. As Australians and as legal professionals, we should not be lulled into a false sense of security by the presence of our state and territory anti-cruelty legislation or “talk” of animal welfare. While it’s proper to acknowledge that the government has committed $6 million to the implementation of an Australian Animal Welfare Strategy, this project is unlikely to serve as a clarion call to end the suffering of millions of animals in our factory farms.'

For the full article, go to

http://www.onlineopinion.com.au/view.asp?article=5257

You can also sign the RSPCA petition 'Fair go for farm animals':

http://www.rspca.org.au/campaign/fairgo.asp

Thanks.

KC

20/12/2006 - Strong Opinions - Ayaan Hirsi Ali in the Los Angeles Times

Why they deny the Holocaust

 

19/12/2006 - Today's quotes - Oscar Wilde

Some more quotes from the great Oscar Wilde, this time from his play Lady Windermere's fan:

'Many a woman has a past, but I am told that she has at least a dozen, and that they all fit.' - [The Duchess of Berwick]

'I prefer women with a past. They're always so demmed amusing to talk to.' - [Lord Augustus]

'It takes a thoroughly good woman to do a thoroughly stupid thing.' - [Lady Plymdale]

For more Oscar Wilde, see entry 12/12/2006

18/12/2006 - Today's quote - Frank Sinatra

'Whatever has been said about me is unimportant. When I sing, I believe.'

Yesterday the ABC showed the BBC-documentary Sinatra: Dark Star, about Frank Sinatra's connections with the maffia and as such his role in John F. Kennedy's very close victory over Richard Nixon in the 1960 presidential election. Great and very fascinating documentary that made clear how much Sinatra was a Dr.Jekyll and a Mr.Hyde. He could be tender and very considerate, making the woman he loved feel like she was the only woman in the world. His liberal attitudes clashed with conservative morals and he strongly opposed the racism that was abundant in American society at the end of the fifties. Black musicians were not allowed to stay in the Las Vegas hotels where they performed. Instead they had to go back to their trailers after the show. Sinatra's friend Sammy Davis Jr. was one of the victims of this rule.

At the same time Sinatra was fascinated by the power of the mob, and the documentary showed how much the maffia helped him, especially at the beginning of his career.

The program ended with the above quote. I definitely do not agree with the first part, but I can agree wholeheartedly with the second.

For more information about Frank Sinatra's tumultuous marriage with 'screen goddess' Ava Gardner, click on Archive and go to the entries for October, where you can find a review of Lee Server's Ava Gardner-biography that was published earlier this year.

15/12/2006 - Poetry - 'Mid-Term Break' by Seamus Heaney

Seamus Heaney (born in rural Northern Island in 1939) published his first volume of poetry in 1966. Death of a Naturalist was an instant success. This may be thanks to the fact that Heaney manages to reach a very high poetic level in a language that seems deceptively simple at first sight. But like all deceptively easy language, his poems involve a lot of work and craftsmanship.

Being the oldest of nine children of a family from simple, rural people, Heaney almost felt guilty about the fact that he was the first one who had the chance to go to university, afraid that his bookishness might drive a wedge between him and his family. This resulted not only in this (deceptively) simple and straightforward language; the content of the poems was also inspired by his family and his rural background. In the famous first poem Digging he draws a comparison between the craftsmanship of his father and grandfather, ploughing the fields, and his own craftsmanship as a writer, with a pen in his hand as his only tool.

Mid-Term break is one of the best-known poems of Death of a Naturalist. It tells us about his younger brother, who was killed when a car hit him. The atmosphere of death is announced by the bells in the first stanza, but the reader is only informed little by little about what has happened. The final blow is left for the last line, which forms a stanza by itself and as such is given extra power. We can feel the embarrassment of the young boy when the old men tell him they are sorry for his trouble. The baby is the embodiment of innocence, unaware of the miseries of life. One of the strongest elements of this poem is the portrayal of his mother, whose subdued grief, bitterness and anger is very well phrased in the lines as my mother held my hand/ In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.

Death of a Naturalist was the first volume of Heaney's poetry I bought, and it is still my favourite, even though he has made many great poems afterwards. Heaney, who very deservedly won the Nobel Prize in 1995, has been one of my favourite poets ever since. Faber and Faber has published a beautiful separate edition of Heaney's debut. Of course most poems are also included in several editions of his Collected Poems, also published by Faber and Faber.

KC

13/12/2006 - Personal documents - 'Selected Letters' by Charles Bukowski

'You can piss on death and forget it until it finds you. Most people do this. That is why they cry at funerals.'

Charles Bukowski in a letter to John William Corrington, December 3, 1961

Charles Bukowski: Selected Letters Volume 1, 1958-1965. This edition published by Virgin Books, 2004.

Last week I spent a few days in Melbourne, where I discovered Horton Books at 100 Smith Street, Collingwood. Great book store! The four volumes Selected Letters by American poet and short story writer Charles Bukowski had just arrived. I like Bukowski, but I have never been a really dedicated fan. That may change now that I have these four volumes Selected Letters. I read one paragraph, decided to buy two volumes, read some more and decided to buy the other two volumes as well. Practically every letter has some great quotes. Bukowski is honest, cinical in the right sense of the word, down to earth and often very funny. What a delight to read this! 

11/12/2006 - Today's quote - Mia Farrow on Woody Allen

Woody Allen didn't even buy sheets without talking to his psychiatrist. I know that several sessions went into his switch from polyester-satin to cotton.

Woody Allen was connected to his doctors like no one I ever heard of: he had a doctor for every single part of his body. Whenever one of his movies came out he'd have a screening for his doctors and their wives. It was called 'The Doctor's Screening' and the room was always full.

Mia Farrow on ex-lover Woody Allen, after he married her adopted daughter Soon-Yi who is 35 years younger than him.