The Weight of Books

Nothing is heavier than books. Not granite, not lead, not McDonald's regulars, not even the 4 liters of water that my Japanese friend's parents-in-law insisted on taking to Germany because they didn't trust the local supply. The only time I've ever paid extra for luggage on a plane was due to books. Psychology books, which it seems have to be heavy due to some bizarre perceived correlation between weight and worth. My maternal grandfather was a collector of books. In particular fully illustrated books on birds and leather bound 'complete works of....'. I grew up surrounded by books because my mother had inherited her father's love of them; and after he died she also inherited his books, which my father built numerous capacious shelves for (without a spirit level he liked to boast). The shelves groaned audibly and I swear the house sunk an inch or two for each year we lived there.
     E-book readers have helped keep my luggage within the ever more strictly enforced airline weight limits, but in one important way they haven't made books lighter. I had a dream last night that prompted this post. I was back at university and I went to see a lecturer for a consultation about a piece of coursework I had submitted. He was an amalgamation of the nightmare head of department that Tony bests in the second season of Skins and Matt the killer from Top of the Lake. I got short shrift in the consultation and was gathering my books afterwards, but there seemed to be an increasing number of them, which I couldn't lift. An element of the dream was the recurring dread that I am unprepared for an exam and it is getting too late to catch up. I woke up feeling bad from the dream, but with a growing relief as I awoke to the reality that such fears are behind me. But what does the books being heavy signify?
     For me it's the weight of reverence that books engender. I grew up thinking it was a crime to mark a page by turning down the corner, and that not finishing a book I had started was a potentially cataclysmic failure of self-discipline with the added sin of disrespect to the author (to whose stature I could only dimly aspire). A year ago I finished my third degree (in Psychology you may have guessed). I spent too large a part of the following months getting a place on the Phd program and was absolutely convinced that's how I wanted to spend the next five years....until I wasn't. I confronted my misgivings and changed my mind. I'm going to coach, and teach (as far as possible unencumbered by textbooks) and I'm only going to read what I want to read, which doesn't mean not tackling the tough stuff if it seems like it will reward the effort. I've got my Kindle, and a variety of novels and tomes weighing down my Ikea shelves, but the weight of books is lifting month by month and I feel like our old house, rising again from the earth, lighter, more playful, less reverent.

What WILL they put on your gravestone?

"Don't spend too long on that, they won't put it on your gravestone," are words, or words to that effect, we have all heard many times. Take a walk through a graveyard and stop for a read from time to time and you'll see that what actually gets put on gravestones are things like: "To Ethel, wife and mother, she will be sorely missed," or "For Fred, husband to Lottie, the world is a richer place because he lived." And that's flattering headstone engravers by picking the most imaginative examples and misquoting them by erring on the side of interesting. So what is really meant to be implied as the opposite of what they won't put on your gravestone?

     In the Spike Jonze/Charlie Kaufman film ‘Being John Malkovich,’ Maxine says: “I think the world is divided into those who go after what they want and then those who don’t. The passionate ones….they may not get what they want, but at least they remain vital, so when they lie on their death beds they have few regrets…and the ones who don’t go after what they want, well who gives a shit about them anyway.” That’s a  brutal assessment, but after many years of reflection, the truth in it to me is this. We learn to associate getting what we want with the bratty child who wants a new toy or to get their own way; or with the unscrupulous businessperson or politician who will stop at nothing to achieve wealth or power.  But if you look deeper, what you want is at the core of who you are and is the source of your most intense motivations and reserves of energy. When you are going after what you want you will have more vigour and staying power and although it won’t necessarily be the easy way it will feel good on balance because you will be being true to yourself and, in the deepest sense of the phrase, you will be doing your best. If you act from the core of who you are, you are going after what you want; and people will care because they will see that who you are and what you do matters. And that's the mark you will leave on the world and thus what will be left of you after you're gone: an epitaph worth carving in stone.

     A better question is therefore: what do you want them to put on your gravestone? What I want on mine is something like: Rob Russell was a true friend who lived courageously and brought insight and stimulation wherever he went. I've still got some work to do to live up to that, but why leave writing your epitaph until it's too late to be of any use to you?  What do you want on your gravestone?

Alliance

I just finished reading a book about the alliance between Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin during World War 2. It would be redundant to repeat the big themes, but listing ten of the details that have stuck in my mind might be revealing in some way. Firstly, I did know that Roosevelt was wheelchair-bound, but I'd forgotten that I knew it which is a testament to his skill at managing his image and an indication of how much media technology has moved on since then. Secondly, Churchill had a habit of walking around naked from the waist down and a sketch of him thus exposed is reproduced in the book. Thirdly, Stalin might be the most charming mass murderer in history and his lack of illusions made him the most focused of the three. My favorite word used to describe Churchill is 'bellicose'. Roosevelt was a dreamer, thankfully. Fourthly, it brought home to me the enormity of the folly involved in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Fifthly, there was never a Russian banquet without lashings of vodka and suckling pig nor a British one without oceans of whisky, wine and brandy, and it seems Churchill at least was drunk pretty much throughout the war, which I would have been too in his position. Sixthly, Stalin was not a complete megalomaniac and had some feeling for which nations were and were not well suited to communism. Seventhly, Churchill comes across as the last of the old school champions of Empire, but at least that attitude served a higher purpose. In the light of this book, Thacher's tragic dalliance in the Falklands in the service of the 80s yuppie party that followed looks pathetic and shameful. Eighthly, the pressure that they were all under is impossible to imagine, but, at least some of the time, they were having a high old time while soldiers froze in the trenches, melted in the jungle and were slaughtered in their millions. Ninthly, I didn't know that the Polish government was exiled in London during the war or how important the fate of Poland after the war was to the members of the alliance and I still don't know how to pronounce the exiled leader's name. Tenthly, Harry Hopkins, Roosevelt's closest adviser is in a tie with Churchill for my favourite character in the book.

Thatcher in Hindsight

Thanks to David Simon I have finally settled on an opinion about Thatcher's legacy. Many of her economic reforms were intelligent, hard won and ultimately beneficial, but she failed to understand the importance of distinguishing between a capitalist economy and a capitalist society. Like her role model Winston Churchill, she was a good PM when there was a war to fight, but inappropriate in peacetime. She waged war on entrenched union power, complacent male domination of politics and  Eurocrat masters of the coin..oh yea and the Argentinians. With the exception of the real war (the Falklands) to which there were surely diplomatic alternatives that went untested, all these battles needed fighting and the 'enemies' of the second and third had it coming. It was the battle against the unions that points to the ugly side of Thatcherism. No doubt there were underlying economic imperatives related to globalisation and other macro-economic factors beyond the control of any post-empire British PM that made tackling the unions necessary and even desirable, but couldn't she have worked not only to win against the Skargills, but also to limit the collateral damage to people whose lives and livelihoods were in the front line?
    And then there were the privatisations. Couldn't we all have benefited? Now that I have money to invest I appreciate how easy it is to become a share holder, but in those days families like ours didn't own shares. I was 14 when Thatcher came to power and 25 when she was ousted and although I instinctively turned away when her face (and that condescendingly mocking voice) appeard on the telly I didn't begin to understand why until I spent a weekend in Leyland with a group of car plant workers one of whom, after half a dozen tins of Tetley bitter launched into a monologue about how people who had a few thousand quid to spare at the time of a flotation would buy shares, which they could because the big buyers were limited in how many shares they could buy, then sell them the following day at a huge mark up (because there was no limit the day after the floatation). "It's like Christmas in the better off neighborhoods," he spat, "they're all buying new cars and getting swimming pools built." Tory voters to a man, obviously.
    Thatcher was divisive because her economic reforms benefited some groups in society and hurt others. I have to confess that I like the emphasis on self-reliance that entering the job market during Thatcher's tenure has undoubtedly strengthened in me. However, a great leader should not only have the ability to keep going their own way and following their convictions in the face of opposition, but also have a feeling for how the consequences of their decisions fall on the less powerful. Thatcher's victories were ultimately pyrrhic because her lack of feeling for alternative world views to her own provincial and, let's be honest, at times mean-spirited one meant that she failed to see the larger meaning in the economic upheavals that she struggled to steer. Capitalism is trying to suck every last drop of human energy and striving-for-meaning into the zero sum battle to acquire money. A capitalist economy is an essential tool for improving living standards, something almost everyone wants. But society cannot and should not be allowed to be reduced to purely economic terms; and the grounds on which the distinction can be maintained are about community, social cohesion, equality and other related concepts which Thatcher was too caught up in her own battles and background to develop a feel for.

The Satanic Verses

Almost 25 years after it was published and about 3 months since I started reading it, I have finished Salman Rushdie's The Satanic Verses. Here are the answers to the main questions I had about the book:

1. What's it about?

It's about two successful Indian men, an actor called Gibreel Farishta and a voice over specialist called Saladin Chamcha. They both survive the explosion of a jumbo jet by terrorists over the English Channel. Gibreel gradually becomes deluded that he is his namesake the archangel and Saladin actually turns into a goat-like incarnation of the devil. Gibreel dreams the history of Islam from its inception in the city of Jahilia (built of sand) at some unspecified point in the past to the return of the Imam (based on Ayatollah Khomenei) from exile to ensure the triumph of the Islamic revolution. Along the way there are bucket loads of insight into the life of an ex-pat Indian in London, language, marriage and many other accessible topics.

2. What are the Satanic Verses?

At first, the people of Jahilia worshipped 360 Gods of whom the Goddess Al-lat was the most revered. Mahound (Rushdie's version of the prophet Muhammed) and his small number of followers are committed to the idea that there is only one God (Al-lah). The most powerful man in Jahilia, the Grandee Abu Simbel, feels threatened by Mahound and offers him a deal: admit the worthiness of just 3 of the 360 Gods and I will not only tolerate, but recognise you. Mahound climbs Mount Cone to speak to his archangel (Gibreel Farishta feels it's him in the dreams).  On the mountain he is told to admit the 3 Gods and on returning to the city conveys the message to an assembled crowd in verse. Later, he retracts the message as the work of the Devil (satanic verses) and he and his followers are forced to flee the city.   

3. Why did the Ayatollah and his fans throw their toys out of the pram?

The answer to this one is not clear cut, but after some Googling, this is my take:

     There is a brothel in Jahilia where the poet Baal hides out after Mahound has returned and imposed an Islamic regime on the city. At some point the prostitutes get the idea of naming themselves after each one of Mahound's many chaste wives to excite their customers and increase profits. This was taken by some as suggesting that the prophet's wives were whores.
     Satanic Verses is a phrase derived from an Arabic one which means something rather different. Its use was construed as implying that the verses in the Koran were the work of the devil. 
    Mahound is a derogatory word for Muhammed used by the English during the crusades.
    In the novel the story of Abraham is told briefly, but in a way that shows him as a cold-hearted man who left his wife (Hagar) and unborn child (Ishmael) in the desert to die and which expresses surprise that the site of this act is worshipped not because of the miracle that Hagar found a source of water there and survived, but because Abraham had graced it with his presence.
    The scribe who writes down the words of Allah supposedly coming directly from him through the mouth of Mahound unchanged is suspicious and so makes some small changes. These are not picked up by Mahound causing the scribe to lose his faith and suggesting that Islam was born of self interest. 
    Finally, and this seems like the kicker to me, the Ayatollah Khomenei character in the novel is portrayed in a less than flattering light with him ending the section lying in the palace forecourt with his mouth open swallowing people whole as they enter.

4. Was there any justification for the Fatwa?

It's easy to understand why Muslims were offended by the book and hard to imagine that Rushdie didn't intend this to some degree. However, even the most extreme versions of Islamic law don't allow for sentencing a person to death without a trial or at least the right to speak in their defence first. And Rushdie wasn't even living in a country subject to Islamic law. The Ayatollah actually encouraged Muslims who knew someone who was close enough to Rushdie to kill him to pay them to do so.

The last word? The Ayatollah was under pressure after making a too little too late truce with Iraq and the publication of The Satanic Verses gifted him an opportunity to distract attention and reinvigorate his supporters. It wasn't an easy read, but was worth the effort, there's a lot more to it than the controversy and I have more respect for, and interest in the author than I did three months ago.

An Uncle Should

An uncle should arrive bearing gifts for his nephews and nieces. Preferably something exotic that you can't buy locally. I used to be strictly opposed to giving money instead on the grounds that it was lazy and showed a lack of imagination, but I've had to accept that it will not only do at a push, but is often preferred.

An uncle should raise the stakes in dinnertime conversation by saying things to nephews and nieces that their parents usually rule unacceptable. Depending on age and the peculiarities of the family involved something that is verging on rude, that hints at sex or digs up something from the past that the parents have hidden from their children is best.

A good uncle should have a flexible concept of uncle-hood which includes the children of friends as well as siblings.

A good uncle should adapt as children grow up, but should not ever try to be 'cool' in order to stay popular as child becomes tween becomes teen becomes young adult.

A good uncle should always retain an air of mystery and never allow the illusion, created during the early years, that he is wise to be destroyed completely. Evidence to the contrary need not be an insurmountable barrier in this respect.

An uncle should be a friend of the family and a friend of each member of the family. Separation or divorce will be a challenge to this point, but magnanimity and skillful exploitation of the neutrality inherent in uncle-hood should be enough to win the day.

A good uncle should visit and invite visits, knowing that the former will always be the default, and end each visit having added something memorable that only he can.

Just Say No to Insurance

Insurance was originally designed to save us from ruin in the event of an unpredictable misfortune. Shipping companies insured against their ship sinking in a violent storm and taking their cargo down with it. Drivers insured against being forced to swerve to avoid a drunken lunatic and writing off their vehicle in the ensuing back flip onto the hard shoulder. Everyone insured, if they could, against being hospitalized after illness or injury. This kind of insurance makes sense to me. Many kinds don't. Liability waiver insurance makes a cheap car rental not cheap. If I say no, almost 1000 pounds is blocked on my credit card and I'm faced with the loss of all of it if I so much as scratch the already heavily scratched 'Vauxhall Corsa or similar'. This is nonsense. That I am forced to take out insurance against an unexpected loss I can't possibly meet the cost of is common sense. But why, if I choose to risk an amount that would be painful, but not terminal, can't I be liable for the real cost of repair of whatever damage I cause? I take better care of the car if I know carelessness will cost me personally. In Thailand you see whole families traveling on small motorbikes without helmets. I asked a tour guide why they take the risk and he said "It's their family, they go slowly." He might have added that they pay attention. They don't wear iPods or talk on the phone, safe in the knowledge that someone else will pay if they lose concentration and crash. If they do crash, they have to take responsibility. And there's the rub: the more insured we are, the less responsible we feel for our actions. Say no to damage waiver insurance, say no to PPI, say no to identity theft insurance, say no to no claims bonus insurance and football shirt insurance and bad weather on holiday insurance and all the thousand types of insurance against the inevitable risks of life that won't bankrupt you if they happen. Take responsibility and feel the thrill of exposure.

Songs that Should Have Been Shot at Birth

As with Pol Pot and Robert Mugabe the world would be a better place if certain songs, despite their popularity, had been shot at birth. Just as one person's dictator is another's war hero, so the choice of song is highly subjective. Here are two of mine.

Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh. He used to write songs that could best be described by adjectives like interesting, haunting, touching, melodious etc. These were songs that would make it onto the Old Grey Whistle Test, but probably not Top of the Pops. Songs that Annie Nightingale liked openly and other people had a cassette of in their car, but rarely talked about. Then he wrote Lady in Red and presumably got rich(ish) and well known, but for me broke the spell he had laboured to create and sowed the seeds of an annoying feedback loop in my head which popped up this week and prompted me to add this saccharine dirge to my 'hit' list.

Another song born with a cute smile on its face that distracted everyone from the budding horns in its temples which begged a bullet to the brain is Candle in the Wind. Don't get me wrong I used to like it too, but now I thank the lord for digital albums which allow you to delete the songs you don't want to hear. Thanks to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, I'm sure it's not just envy of Bernie Taupin who got to spend the late twentieth century swanning around in long leather coats, being filmed getting in and out of limos and generally living a life which was wildly large in proportion to his talent. And Crocodile Rock is ridiculous, but it has every right to life. CitW does NOT and don't even get me started on the Diana version.