Hmmm. I was supposed to be doing something. I wonder what it was? Never mind, there's a solitaire game of 'Forbidden Island' to play. Sure to win this time! Oh. Blast. Where was I? Oh, avoiding marking. Marking isn't so bad, and others have far more than I, but mine keeps diving for cover behind other activities such as endless blurb writing and e-mails that have accumulated to the level of madness! Oh bother, no blog yet for today either. Is there no end?! Must keep going. Must keep going. Don't look back! (Must watch 'Independence Day' tomorrow.)
Wobble wobble wobble. What to do? In the wake of last week's conference and the customary mild sickness associated with such things and the disruptions of people visiting at the weekend everything has fallen apart. And there are masses of things to be done! What? Oh, yes, laundry. Excellent! I love a bit of laundry. If only there had been degrees in laundry...
What's left to do? The aforementioned marking, article reading, foamy calculations, project X, masses of writing and of course travelling to work in the most beautiful place I've ever studied. That five hours of travelling a week is not the easiest thing to maintain on a regular basis. No amount of reading and useful scribbling can avert the battering of being on a bus and lugging luggage around on a weekly basis. Oh, the pain, the melodrama, the countless awkward instances of not quite giving up a seat quickly enough, and the hours of bumping around.
Plainly, my hair is just too long to be able to write well. It's that time again, after weeks of putting it off. There must be a haircut and quickly. Perhaps then I'll be able to pick up the Patrick O'Brian novels again and struggle on some more, and maybe not. There comes a point in the third set of five novels that the increasing melancholy and chatter about middle age and worries of the future become so oppressive that you just have to stop. It's well done, of course, but gloomy in ways best avoided. For your reference, dear reader, it kicks in seriously in 'Clarissa Oakes'. Maybe it will be better with a haircut? Or will the reread of 'The Belgariad' kick on in earnest?
O.
Saturday, 24 May 2014
Friday, 23 May 2014
Movie: 'Godzilla' (2014)
Sometimes you've got to go see the mainstream movies just to remain correctly prejudiced. Pretentious? Yes, and shame is flowing, but that sentence does encapsulate my preconceptions as I went in to see 'Godzilla'. Ultimately those unfair (all preconceptions tend to be unfair) conceptions proved to be right, but there were a few interesting things thrown into the mix. The bottom line reaction is that 'Godzilla' did everything right to be a modern version of all the past iterations of the character, but that doesn't mean I necessarily liked it.
The character of Godzilla began as a menace in his original outing in 1954 and then over a ridiculously long series of movies in Japan became a hero, emerging from presumably refreshing naps to beat off other more evil monsters that were ravaging humanity at regular intervals. ("Yay, Godzilla, you've saved us! And you've levelled our apartment block accidentally...") Godzilla is not just the King of the Monsters but also the Count of Collateral Damage and the Archangel of Atomic Breath. I think he even likes bagels but don't quote me on that. Those decades of movies may have been dominated by men in rubber suits, and inconsistent continuity as Godzilla grew ever bigger to continue peaking over the ever-higher skyscrapers, but his status as a champion could never be contested. So, what do you do with Old Stompy in a modern Godzilla movie? Hero or villain?
Let's not be coy, as Godzilla does turn out to be the hero even if he does level most of Hawaii and San Francisco in defeating the evil Muto butterfly monsters. In fact, he is almost the most humanly relateable character in the film, as the actual humans tend to be just a little (or a lot) monotone. Some reviews I've listened to liken the acting performances to pulling a face and then holding it for the rest of the movie, and that's pretty much accurate. Juliette Binoche continues her run of being wasted in films by being killed early, Bryan Cranston does his best to shed his 'Breaking Bad' legacy by being hammy and ending up bland, and the lead actor carries on with all the charisma of a blunt instrument. In line with earlier comments, this could be in line with what a modern version of Godzilla has to be to line up with its history, but it's still a painful reminder of its place in the land of blockbusters.
Despite all the bad things you can say about the film (pedestrian plot, ridiculous coincidences, hideous attempts at emotional manipulation, pointless over-casting of top actors in forgettable roles), it does have a certain relentless charm. You do feel a bit sorry for the maternal Muto when her eggs get torched, and there is a certain awe when Godzilla finally breaks out his atomic breath and fires it down a gigantic throat to burn the last monster from the inside out. There is a sense of wonder when he exchanges stares with Mr Leading Man and then wanders off to finish the job. Part of me wonders if that is an essential part of Godzilla's screen success; He is always more interesting than the humans even if they have to blanded down to ridiculously low standards to achieve that distinction. Is that the only way for him not to be rejected as a 'monster' instead of a character? On side notes the music is ponderous and weighty but fairly unmemorable which is again necessary unless you want to write the 'Godzilla polka'! The restraint in showing Godzilla and the Mutos is admirable, as anything else would have rendered it automatic shlock. David Strathairn is wasted, Binoche is wasted, Ken Watanabe is wasted, all in the cause of providing a starry cast to get people to come to the movie despite the name 'Godzilla'.
Summing up, if you want to see a movie about giant primordial monsters battling and destroying cities collaterally while cardboard humans stomp around being ineffectual then 'Godzilla' is a good movie. (This definition also applies to 'Man of Steel', illustrating why that would have been better as a Godzilla movie too.) In many ways it probably lives up to its cinematic forebears admirably. Unfortunately it is also decidedly bland in many visual and story respects, and computer-generated Godzilla has two of the most heartfelt moments in the film. C'est la vie, for it is after all a monster movie. We can't expect miracles!
O.
PS Someone please write the 'Godzilla Polka'. Now it has been named it must be done!
The character of Godzilla began as a menace in his original outing in 1954 and then over a ridiculously long series of movies in Japan became a hero, emerging from presumably refreshing naps to beat off other more evil monsters that were ravaging humanity at regular intervals. ("Yay, Godzilla, you've saved us! And you've levelled our apartment block accidentally...") Godzilla is not just the King of the Monsters but also the Count of Collateral Damage and the Archangel of Atomic Breath. I think he even likes bagels but don't quote me on that. Those decades of movies may have been dominated by men in rubber suits, and inconsistent continuity as Godzilla grew ever bigger to continue peaking over the ever-higher skyscrapers, but his status as a champion could never be contested. So, what do you do with Old Stompy in a modern Godzilla movie? Hero or villain?
Let's not be coy, as Godzilla does turn out to be the hero even if he does level most of Hawaii and San Francisco in defeating the evil Muto butterfly monsters. In fact, he is almost the most humanly relateable character in the film, as the actual humans tend to be just a little (or a lot) monotone. Some reviews I've listened to liken the acting performances to pulling a face and then holding it for the rest of the movie, and that's pretty much accurate. Juliette Binoche continues her run of being wasted in films by being killed early, Bryan Cranston does his best to shed his 'Breaking Bad' legacy by being hammy and ending up bland, and the lead actor carries on with all the charisma of a blunt instrument. In line with earlier comments, this could be in line with what a modern version of Godzilla has to be to line up with its history, but it's still a painful reminder of its place in the land of blockbusters.
Despite all the bad things you can say about the film (pedestrian plot, ridiculous coincidences, hideous attempts at emotional manipulation, pointless over-casting of top actors in forgettable roles), it does have a certain relentless charm. You do feel a bit sorry for the maternal Muto when her eggs get torched, and there is a certain awe when Godzilla finally breaks out his atomic breath and fires it down a gigantic throat to burn the last monster from the inside out. There is a sense of wonder when he exchanges stares with Mr Leading Man and then wanders off to finish the job. Part of me wonders if that is an essential part of Godzilla's screen success; He is always more interesting than the humans even if they have to blanded down to ridiculously low standards to achieve that distinction. Is that the only way for him not to be rejected as a 'monster' instead of a character? On side notes the music is ponderous and weighty but fairly unmemorable which is again necessary unless you want to write the 'Godzilla polka'! The restraint in showing Godzilla and the Mutos is admirable, as anything else would have rendered it automatic shlock. David Strathairn is wasted, Binoche is wasted, Ken Watanabe is wasted, all in the cause of providing a starry cast to get people to come to the movie despite the name 'Godzilla'.
Summing up, if you want to see a movie about giant primordial monsters battling and destroying cities collaterally while cardboard humans stomp around being ineffectual then 'Godzilla' is a good movie. (This definition also applies to 'Man of Steel', illustrating why that would have been better as a Godzilla movie too.) In many ways it probably lives up to its cinematic forebears admirably. Unfortunately it is also decidedly bland in many visual and story respects, and computer-generated Godzilla has two of the most heartfelt moments in the film. C'est la vie, for it is after all a monster movie. We can't expect miracles!
O.
PS Someone please write the 'Godzilla Polka'. Now it has been named it must be done!
Wednesday, 21 May 2014
Returns (a.k.a. Random Silliness XIX)
Upon returning from Gregynog I am forced to face the many things that lie buried in the past, desperately concealed and unsuccessfully pushed to one side by the recent conference.
One: The Mexican Hat Brigade finally found me. Despite all the precautions and my conversion to bucket hat usage, they rumbled into Gregynog Hall, inflicted mariachi music on everyone at 1AM, and then made a quick getaway in their souped-up mariachi milk float. I may have to change my name back to Sven and revert to minstrelling in the Outer Hebrides. Juanita was especially raucous. She still has a lute.
Two: The proposed serial about Prime Minister Edwin secretly being a front for the Spherical Alien Invaders from Planet X has been shelved due to extreme publisher apathy and some anger at the detail that apparently broke the back of credibility: the editors thought that having the aliens show a preference for Bach instead of legendary rock singer Elvis Presley was utterly unbelievable. They've obviously never read 'Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency'! Rock candy dispatched as concealed vengeance.
Three: My pet square, Luciano, has gone missing. Sadly he rotated until he was normal to this dimensional plane and then effectively vanished. This has been highly upsetting, and now either life must be lived without a tame geometric to my name or a large supply of ready salted walnuts must be purchased and used to lure said geometric back into a visible frame of reference. All donations welcome, as well as reports of squares roaming mid- or South Wales looking lost or incongruous.
Four: Lemon drops are likely to precipitate the end of the Universe. According to latest theory (*), lemon drops are distilled essences of the forthcoming Big Crunch. Said essence is being captured held in reserve, for reasons unknown, and stored in bulk. Such bulk storage ignores the risk of a critical mass building and initiating a post-lemon drop cascade reaction. Be safe, buy lemon drops now, and keep them in a secure place. Thank you for your attention.
Life is never simple. Blasted lutes.
O.
PS The repeated failures to win Forbidden Island (a tabletop game) in solitaire mode have led me to the following questions. Why is this island forbidden? Why can a few sandbags stop portions from dropping into the abyss? What does it all mean? This will vex me. It shall be won!
* Of course not, don't be silly.
One: The Mexican Hat Brigade finally found me. Despite all the precautions and my conversion to bucket hat usage, they rumbled into Gregynog Hall, inflicted mariachi music on everyone at 1AM, and then made a quick getaway in their souped-up mariachi milk float. I may have to change my name back to Sven and revert to minstrelling in the Outer Hebrides. Juanita was especially raucous. She still has a lute.
Two: The proposed serial about Prime Minister Edwin secretly being a front for the Spherical Alien Invaders from Planet X has been shelved due to extreme publisher apathy and some anger at the detail that apparently broke the back of credibility: the editors thought that having the aliens show a preference for Bach instead of legendary rock singer Elvis Presley was utterly unbelievable. They've obviously never read 'Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency'! Rock candy dispatched as concealed vengeance.
Three: My pet square, Luciano, has gone missing. Sadly he rotated until he was normal to this dimensional plane and then effectively vanished. This has been highly upsetting, and now either life must be lived without a tame geometric to my name or a large supply of ready salted walnuts must be purchased and used to lure said geometric back into a visible frame of reference. All donations welcome, as well as reports of squares roaming mid- or South Wales looking lost or incongruous.
Four: Lemon drops are likely to precipitate the end of the Universe. According to latest theory (*), lemon drops are distilled essences of the forthcoming Big Crunch. Said essence is being captured held in reserve, for reasons unknown, and stored in bulk. Such bulk storage ignores the risk of a critical mass building and initiating a post-lemon drop cascade reaction. Be safe, buy lemon drops now, and keep them in a secure place. Thank you for your attention.
Life is never simple. Blasted lutes.
O.
PS The repeated failures to win Forbidden Island (a tabletop game) in solitaire mode have led me to the following questions. Why is this island forbidden? Why can a few sandbags stop portions from dropping into the abyss? What does it all mean? This will vex me. It shall be won!
* Of course not, don't be silly.
Monday, 19 May 2014
What if God exists and his name is Fred?
(Prepared long ago - Away at a mini-conference - Send food)
Suppose, for a moment, that some all powerful entity definitely (as opposed to possibly) exists that created the universe and that his/her/its name is Fred. Does the name make a difference? Well, if the entity in question calls itself Fred, that is a massive difference, because a familiar/understandable name makes things smaller. An omnipotent being called Fred is intrinsically less frightening than one with no recognizable name at all. All unknown things become less frightening with some self-definition (or even just a nickname!).
More importantly, is this a silly question? Probably it is, but the sillier ones are always the better ones, and lost causes are often more worth fighting for than the others. (It's amazing what you can learn from 'Star Trek' novels.) How many of the greatest mysteries in the universe are considered impossible just because we can't name them yet? Is science ridiculously richer for classifying relativity, or just for naming it and reducing it to something knowable? And does knowing that contribute more to our awareness than 'Joe Versus The Volcano', 'Detective Comics 775' or 'Yes Man'? And is any of it worth more or less if the Big Bang was kicked off by some bloke called Fred? Obviously it is more important to know about relativity in a science-driven world than the others, but more by choice than necessity. The world has chosen to compete via science and warfare, so we have to keep going or be conquered. Also, science is fascinating when done well.
Whether or not there is some being (called Fred or Ethel or StarAsterisk), it doesn't really answer a fundamental question. Doubt still remains. Why? Well, if there is some creator, then how did that creator come into existence? If there isn't a creator then what started everything into action, and if there is no starting event to the universe then how did this all come into existence to begin with? A Big Bang with or without a creator still leaves the same question of first causes, that long infinite chain of events, which must all have been caused somehow in our own perception of reality. First causes... Somewhere outside this dimension, this universe, there could be a whole other realm where causality doesn't exist and first causes don't have to exist. Ultimately there might have to be, otherwise the chain will go on forever. Then the universe would be caused by the universe which would then be caused by the universe and so? It's as good a theory as any other, and it still allows the possibility of some creator, even one called Fred.
O.
Note: The game 'Forbidden Desert' is almost impossibly difficult. Dreadfully impossible. Or we might just be doing it wrong. Mutter.
Suppose, for a moment, that some all powerful entity definitely (as opposed to possibly) exists that created the universe and that his/her/its name is Fred. Does the name make a difference? Well, if the entity in question calls itself Fred, that is a massive difference, because a familiar/understandable name makes things smaller. An omnipotent being called Fred is intrinsically less frightening than one with no recognizable name at all. All unknown things become less frightening with some self-definition (or even just a nickname!).
More importantly, is this a silly question? Probably it is, but the sillier ones are always the better ones, and lost causes are often more worth fighting for than the others. (It's amazing what you can learn from 'Star Trek' novels.) How many of the greatest mysteries in the universe are considered impossible just because we can't name them yet? Is science ridiculously richer for classifying relativity, or just for naming it and reducing it to something knowable? And does knowing that contribute more to our awareness than 'Joe Versus The Volcano', 'Detective Comics 775' or 'Yes Man'? And is any of it worth more or less if the Big Bang was kicked off by some bloke called Fred? Obviously it is more important to know about relativity in a science-driven world than the others, but more by choice than necessity. The world has chosen to compete via science and warfare, so we have to keep going or be conquered. Also, science is fascinating when done well.
Whether or not there is some being (called Fred or Ethel or StarAsterisk), it doesn't really answer a fundamental question. Doubt still remains. Why? Well, if there is some creator, then how did that creator come into existence? If there isn't a creator then what started everything into action, and if there is no starting event to the universe then how did this all come into existence to begin with? A Big Bang with or without a creator still leaves the same question of first causes, that long infinite chain of events, which must all have been caused somehow in our own perception of reality. First causes... Somewhere outside this dimension, this universe, there could be a whole other realm where causality doesn't exist and first causes don't have to exist. Ultimately there might have to be, otherwise the chain will go on forever. Then the universe would be caused by the universe which would then be caused by the universe and so? It's as good a theory as any other, and it still allows the possibility of some creator, even one called Fred.
O.
Note: The game 'Forbidden Desert' is almost impossibly difficult. Dreadfully impossible. Or we might just be doing it wrong. Mutter.
Saturday, 17 May 2014
Books: 'Join Me' and 'Yes Man' by Danny Wallace
'Join Me' and 'Yes Man' are semi-autobiographical memoirs/novels (some parts must be exaggerated, surely?) halves of one story, as published in 2003 and 2005. They are probably meant to be separate stories, but the symmetry is so strong it's easier to treat them as one. In 'Join Me' Danny Wallace, who has surely made more lives better than we will ever know in a thousand tiny ways, started a collective (it's not a cult!) by accident and loses his girlfriend, while in 'Yes Man' he was inspired by a man on the bus to 'say yes more' and does so for most of a year, while finding new love in the process of risking all. It may all sound a bit twee, or a bit silly, but they do work and they do capture a transitional stage in the life of a man called Danny. Danny might be a bit strange, but he's jolly nice with it.
Note: these books are a bit sweary so they must be good to get past my swearing intolerance. Remember that as we go on, if we can go on past this writers block. Oh, trumpety trump! It's like trying to think through a brain of syrup. Incoherence, giant ear muffs over the eyes. Keep going, keep going!
In a sense it's superfluous to go into details of how the founder of Join Me put up adverts in local media simply saying to join him, and to send a passport photo to his address in a demonstration of dedication, and that people actually did it. In an era when people famously have stopped joining things, people joined him when not even he knew what the point was yet. And through all this and personal tragedies, although not too great tragedies as the surely partly fictionalised girlfriend Hanne was a bit mean, there exists a Karma Army as a result to this very day. A Karma Army that does random acts of kindness just for the fun of it. That's an awesome thing to have on your list of things accomplished: Started international army of kindness. It's not a 'stupid boy project' at all. That's all I'll say about 'Join Me' as it really deserves to be read to be enjoyed, and serves mainly as a prelude to the one I really love, 'Yes Man'.
'Yes Man' was the book I read first, picking it up at random from a rack of bestsellers in a supermarket. 'Yes Man' is the one with an unalloyed happy ending. 'Yes Man' is dramatically worse, but almost offensively wonderful. Go read it. Please, for sanity's sake. In the aftermath of the events of 'Join Me' and some other events, Danny is a bit sad, withdrawn from the world and taking no risks. One day that man on the bus appears, and everything changes. At a surface level, the whole thing is more contrived, but it's also just that bit more romantic than 'Join Me'. Encapsulated into the narrative is a different paradigm to life, and one that people rarely even consider. Yes, it is rampantly silly to say yes to everything ('si a todo!'), but it is also one of the healthiest ideas to crawl out of a cave and scream for attention in many many centuries. We should all say yes more, or as the default, and leap into the unknown. (Note: I haven't, but plan to sometime. Stop looking at me. Oh fine, tomorrow then!)
Of course these two books were never meant to be self-help manuals but really works of entertainment. Their value is incidental or to some extent accidental, but that value does exist. It exists within the witty and self-deprecating prose of Danny, the adventures he gets up to in what some declare 'stupid boy projects' but which are really acts of sanity. In the mad mad world of the remaining twenty-first century some things are going to have to go. Conformity is something that will hold more people back on the grand scale, and quite a few of them are people who would like to join something that does nice things, and go through life 'saying yes more'. Here's to them, and here's to Danny. He's changed lots of lives, including mine tangentially, and maybe it's time to just finally give in on the hypocrisy and say yes to 'Join Me'. Or maybe you should instead?
O.
Note: The following book 'Friends Like These' didn't work for me personally. I therefore do not write about it except to note that it exists, and you might like it. If you exist. If any of us exist. This post was completed in place of 'What if there is a God and his name is Ernie?', which is in development torture. Sigh.
Note: these books are a bit sweary so they must be good to get past my swearing intolerance. Remember that as we go on, if we can go on past this writers block. Oh, trumpety trump! It's like trying to think through a brain of syrup. Incoherence, giant ear muffs over the eyes. Keep going, keep going!
In a sense it's superfluous to go into details of how the founder of Join Me put up adverts in local media simply saying to join him, and to send a passport photo to his address in a demonstration of dedication, and that people actually did it. In an era when people famously have stopped joining things, people joined him when not even he knew what the point was yet. And through all this and personal tragedies, although not too great tragedies as the surely partly fictionalised girlfriend Hanne was a bit mean, there exists a Karma Army as a result to this very day. A Karma Army that does random acts of kindness just for the fun of it. That's an awesome thing to have on your list of things accomplished: Started international army of kindness. It's not a 'stupid boy project' at all. That's all I'll say about 'Join Me' as it really deserves to be read to be enjoyed, and serves mainly as a prelude to the one I really love, 'Yes Man'.
'Yes Man' was the book I read first, picking it up at random from a rack of bestsellers in a supermarket. 'Yes Man' is the one with an unalloyed happy ending. 'Yes Man' is dramatically worse, but almost offensively wonderful. Go read it. Please, for sanity's sake. In the aftermath of the events of 'Join Me' and some other events, Danny is a bit sad, withdrawn from the world and taking no risks. One day that man on the bus appears, and everything changes. At a surface level, the whole thing is more contrived, but it's also just that bit more romantic than 'Join Me'. Encapsulated into the narrative is a different paradigm to life, and one that people rarely even consider. Yes, it is rampantly silly to say yes to everything ('si a todo!'), but it is also one of the healthiest ideas to crawl out of a cave and scream for attention in many many centuries. We should all say yes more, or as the default, and leap into the unknown. (Note: I haven't, but plan to sometime. Stop looking at me. Oh fine, tomorrow then!)
Of course these two books were never meant to be self-help manuals but really works of entertainment. Their value is incidental or to some extent accidental, but that value does exist. It exists within the witty and self-deprecating prose of Danny, the adventures he gets up to in what some declare 'stupid boy projects' but which are really acts of sanity. In the mad mad world of the remaining twenty-first century some things are going to have to go. Conformity is something that will hold more people back on the grand scale, and quite a few of them are people who would like to join something that does nice things, and go through life 'saying yes more'. Here's to them, and here's to Danny. He's changed lots of lives, including mine tangentially, and maybe it's time to just finally give in on the hypocrisy and say yes to 'Join Me'. Or maybe you should instead?
O.
Note: The following book 'Friends Like These' didn't work for me personally. I therefore do not write about it except to note that it exists, and you might like it. If you exist. If any of us exist. This post was completed in place of 'What if there is a God and his name is Ernie?', which is in development torture. Sigh.
Friday, 16 May 2014
Operation Pointing Dodo
"There is a plan. It is very secret. Much like the pointing dodo of yore it may only be discovered long after it's over. Operation Pointing Dodo is a go."
If only it were true. Aberystwyth is a genuine haven for more than half the year, with quiet beautiful beaches and hills, and then for the remaining warm weather months, it becomes much more of a tourist crucible. The remaining staff and postgraduate students burn in the heat of the tourists and undergraduates sitting exams, becoming coated in beach barbecue stench and wondering where it all went wrong. And of course nothing has gone wrong at all.
There's a false sense of ownership to being among the people who appreciate the environment in the off months, breathing in the air and thinking abstractly as the waves roll in and out, or the breeze flows across the hilltops, and in the natural human mode of arrogance it's incredibly frustrating when the people who only like it for its weather just stumble out blindly and clutter the place up. Oh, the fury, the horror, the lack of thinking space! Oh the pettiness in grumbling at other people having fun!
It would be nice if there could be an Operation Pointing Dodo, an organised rebellion that would see the stinky bonfires and barbecues blown away to the waters most deep. We could assemble in three teams: behind the mini-golf shed, atop Constitution Hill at the frisbee golf (please don't ask), and by the lighthouse. Armed with our trusty goggles and cheese sabres (again, it's a long story) we could strike a blow for the people who get displaced in the summer by the thoughtless visitors! And then, we would be lynched by the shopkeepers and hoteliers who depend on students and tourists for their livelihoods.
Oh, cheese sabres, you were so close... If only the level 3 Gouda Divining failure hadn't stopped that ambition for cheese magehood fully in its tracks. Perhaps next year, although it seems ever less likely. A cheese mage would be an ideal participant in Pointing Dodo.
Reverting back to the reasonable mode of thought, all those people out there are brilliantly exercising their rights of equality and liberty and pyromania. Roll on October! Bring on the storms! Grumble grumble mutter mutter sigh. All is as it should be.
O.
PS Yet another mini-conference next week. More cover blogs being prepared for Monday and Wednesday. Somehow.
If only it were true. Aberystwyth is a genuine haven for more than half the year, with quiet beautiful beaches and hills, and then for the remaining warm weather months, it becomes much more of a tourist crucible. The remaining staff and postgraduate students burn in the heat of the tourists and undergraduates sitting exams, becoming coated in beach barbecue stench and wondering where it all went wrong. And of course nothing has gone wrong at all.
There's a false sense of ownership to being among the people who appreciate the environment in the off months, breathing in the air and thinking abstractly as the waves roll in and out, or the breeze flows across the hilltops, and in the natural human mode of arrogance it's incredibly frustrating when the people who only like it for its weather just stumble out blindly and clutter the place up. Oh, the fury, the horror, the lack of thinking space! Oh the pettiness in grumbling at other people having fun!
It would be nice if there could be an Operation Pointing Dodo, an organised rebellion that would see the stinky bonfires and barbecues blown away to the waters most deep. We could assemble in three teams: behind the mini-golf shed, atop Constitution Hill at the frisbee golf (please don't ask), and by the lighthouse. Armed with our trusty goggles and cheese sabres (again, it's a long story) we could strike a blow for the people who get displaced in the summer by the thoughtless visitors! And then, we would be lynched by the shopkeepers and hoteliers who depend on students and tourists for their livelihoods.
Oh, cheese sabres, you were so close... If only the level 3 Gouda Divining failure hadn't stopped that ambition for cheese magehood fully in its tracks. Perhaps next year, although it seems ever less likely. A cheese mage would be an ideal participant in Pointing Dodo.
Reverting back to the reasonable mode of thought, all those people out there are brilliantly exercising their rights of equality and liberty and pyromania. Roll on October! Bring on the storms! Grumble grumble mutter mutter sigh. All is as it should be.
O.
PS Yet another mini-conference next week. More cover blogs being prepared for Monday and Wednesday. Somehow.
Wednesday, 14 May 2014
The Amsterdam book review
While on holiday I read a lot. For the first time in years a stream of unread novels flew through my intent hands and were enjoyed appropriately. Three and a half novels in fact and now, for your education and my pleasure, it's time to write a little about them. One of the great horrors of growing up is a lack of leisure time for reading!
First off, we have 'The Detective And The Woman' by Amy Thomas, a Sherlock Holmes pastiche. Sadly, this didn't live up to the high standard of 'The Seven-per-cent Solution', and ultimately impressed I was not. There's a distinct whiff of competently written fan fiction about this one, for what would happen if Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes had had a case together during the detective's hiatus. They get married at the end. Sequels have followed. It all seems to be a bit off character really, but at least it's short.
Secondly, 'The Girl, The Gold Watch And Everything' by John D Macdonald. This is a caper story, a crime novel, a science fiction novelty and a rites of passage tale all wrapped together. It's also just the tad disturbing as the protagonist largely parallels me up until a certain point, and that's not the point where he discovers his inherited gold watch can pause time. Overall, an interesting one trick novel, written expertly and soaked in a West Coast of the United States atmosphere. Upsetting but again quite short. Some people will probably love it.
Thirdly, 'Three Hearts and Three Lions' by Poul Anderson. Anderson is one of the great legendary fantasy and science fiction writers and this one of his well known works. My only other experience so far with his work is the much more well known 'Broken Sword', which was a bit too bleak to be enjoyable. This is definitely a far more agreeable (short again) novel. An engineer is transported from occupied Denmark where he's working for the resistance against the Nazis to a seemingly parallel world locked in its own war between order and chaos. Therein he falls in love, regains his memories of a former life there and finally finds the means to save the day. Defying convention it ends abruptly, glosses over the actual defeating of chaos, and culminates in the hero not getting to live happily ever after. Recommended, fun and serious, but an underwhelming ending. Will it get read again? Maybe, but it's no certainty.
Finally, and I'll come back to this in the future, even a few days after returning I'm still stuck in 'The Prestige' (not short) by Christopher Priest. The reading of this novel has been overshadowed by two things: one, a certain lack of taste for his eerie writing picked up while trying out 'The Glamour' on my now-defunct Kindle, and two the clear fact that the movie adaptation tells this story remarkably better. I will get back to this once the novel is finished and a full post can be written comparing novel and film.
It's not a holiday if there's no reading and apart from all the above 'Yes Man' came to the rescue at several points, when trams and trains and buses were threatening to destroy the delicacies of the soul. Again, more on 'Yes Man' and it's predecessor 'Join Me' soon. Oh, Danny Wallace you have made a difference to so many people!
O.
First off, we have 'The Detective And The Woman' by Amy Thomas, a Sherlock Holmes pastiche. Sadly, this didn't live up to the high standard of 'The Seven-per-cent Solution', and ultimately impressed I was not. There's a distinct whiff of competently written fan fiction about this one, for what would happen if Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes had had a case together during the detective's hiatus. They get married at the end. Sequels have followed. It all seems to be a bit off character really, but at least it's short.
Secondly, 'The Girl, The Gold Watch And Everything' by John D Macdonald. This is a caper story, a crime novel, a science fiction novelty and a rites of passage tale all wrapped together. It's also just the tad disturbing as the protagonist largely parallels me up until a certain point, and that's not the point where he discovers his inherited gold watch can pause time. Overall, an interesting one trick novel, written expertly and soaked in a West Coast of the United States atmosphere. Upsetting but again quite short. Some people will probably love it.
Thirdly, 'Three Hearts and Three Lions' by Poul Anderson. Anderson is one of the great legendary fantasy and science fiction writers and this one of his well known works. My only other experience so far with his work is the much more well known 'Broken Sword', which was a bit too bleak to be enjoyable. This is definitely a far more agreeable (short again) novel. An engineer is transported from occupied Denmark where he's working for the resistance against the Nazis to a seemingly parallel world locked in its own war between order and chaos. Therein he falls in love, regains his memories of a former life there and finally finds the means to save the day. Defying convention it ends abruptly, glosses over the actual defeating of chaos, and culminates in the hero not getting to live happily ever after. Recommended, fun and serious, but an underwhelming ending. Will it get read again? Maybe, but it's no certainty.
Finally, and I'll come back to this in the future, even a few days after returning I'm still stuck in 'The Prestige' (not short) by Christopher Priest. The reading of this novel has been overshadowed by two things: one, a certain lack of taste for his eerie writing picked up while trying out 'The Glamour' on my now-defunct Kindle, and two the clear fact that the movie adaptation tells this story remarkably better. I will get back to this once the novel is finished and a full post can be written comparing novel and film.
It's not a holiday if there's no reading and apart from all the above 'Yes Man' came to the rescue at several points, when trams and trains and buses were threatening to destroy the delicacies of the soul. Again, more on 'Yes Man' and it's predecessor 'Join Me' soon. Oh, Danny Wallace you have made a difference to so many people!
O.
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