Off the Page

•November 26, 2009 • 2 Comments

As I’m a guest on the Radio Four show ‘Off the Page’ today, it suddenly occured to me that I might, just might, get some increased traffic here, and that first time visitors might wish to see something other than my discussion with my Italian translator, or my tribute to Sylvia Plath.

In fact, it occured to me that I should probably big up my own marvellous product. So click here for a Christmas gift which will keep on giving!

Now, feeling relaxed and happy at having been offered a seasonal bargain, new visitors to the blog, please read on…

Not Lost in Translation

•November 24, 2009 • 4 Comments

‘The Longest Crawl’ is being translated into Italian at the moment by a guy called Claudio, for publication in the spring.

Every few days, Claudio sends me an e-mail, to ask about problems he is facing. A few days ago, for example, he ran this one past me:

‘On page 9, where you say “How about Cunt by Stewart Home?”, I replaced Cunt, that never got translated into Italian, with Ensler Eve’s The Vagina Monologues, which has got translated into Italian instead (I monologhi della vagina).’

I replied…

‘Hmmm. Not sure. Stewart Home is a situationist writer in the UK, and psycho-geography is an offshoot of situationism. So I am suggesting that Perry is a cunt for telling me about lots of UK travel books about drink; and he takes it as a suggestion that he might bring some psycho-geographical books, which in turn makes me feel worse. It’s quite a complicated joke, I guess, and I’m not sure The Vagina Monologues does the same thing. Could we leave it untranslated?’

Then this morning, Claudio sends me this…

‘I think I’ve found a solution for the itchy problem of the Stewart Home’s book you quote: instead of Cunt, I’ve chosen another book by the same author, Cranked up really high: an inside account of punk rock. In Italy it’s been translated as Marci, sporchi e imbecilli: attraverso la rivolta punk, literally “Rotten, dirty and idiot: journey through the punk revolution”. So, whereas you say “How about Cunt by Stewart Home? You should bring that”, the whole sentence comes out as (I re-translate from Italian) “How about Marci, sporchi e imbecilli by Stewart Home? I really think it will suit you”. Do you think it could do?’

Yes, Claudio, I do. I think that’s brilliant.

But then Claudio asks me this…

‘On page 143, talking about Tony Green aka Sir Gideon Vein, I’m not sure I’ve caught the meaning of “he calls Jesus a word which, used in this sense, is said by feminists to hate women”.

What do I tell him?

Thylvia

•November 23, 2009 • 2 Comments

A correspondant, a noted crime writer, contacted me today re. my Sylvia Plath clerihew, which I recited to him a few years ago, in a taxi up to Lumb Bank after a few beers in Hebden Bridge, and with which I’ve managed to cause a great deal of upset over the years.  I sent him the text, after some umm-ing and aah-ing, because I couldn’t work out how to write a lisp. So it’s the first time I’ve written it down, and I’m open to ideas which might improve the written version.

The text reads

Thylvia Plath

Had a taytht for gath.

Thsee couldn’t thtop thmelling

Her Baby Belling.

Fans of the Belling range of cookers will write and point out that they don’t make a gas version of the legandary ‘Baby’. I know, and I’m sorry.

Top Deck, again.

•November 17, 2009 • 6 Comments

I’ve just been to Norwich to visit Minnie at UEA. Sitting together on the top deck of the No.25 bus, heading into the city, Minnie listed the ways in which students are like primary school children.

‘We have a nap; we look forward to that. We eat fishfingers and beans. We watch children’s TV. We wear bobble hats and mittens. We play games like ‘Duck Duck Goose‘. We have packed lunch. We have gerbils. We do dressing up. We get really exited when it snows…’

How proud I am of that child. Greek philosophy and funny too. This is the kind of cultural insight that Mandelson would crush!

So, sitting on the top deck with Minnie prompts me to post this recording of the Top Deck show that I did earlier this year with Jolyon Jenkins for Radio Four, with thanks to the good people at Speechification.

I found it today whilst ego-googling the Off The Page programme I recently recorded for Radio Four, trying to find out when it’s due for broadcast. Thursday 26th November at 1.30pm, I discover.

White Mansions? Legend of Jesse James? Hello?

•November 11, 2009 • 11 Comments

I went all the way down to West Cork yesterday, to see a man about a dog.

This man is a musician, and he played me White Mansions and The Legend of Jesse James, two country concept albums, written by an English songwriter called Paul Kennerly. Clapton and his band play on both albums; as does Bernie Leadon; as do the London Symphony Orchestra. Singers on the two albums include Waylon Jennings, Emmylou Harris, Levon Helm, Albert Lee and Johnny Cash. Both albums were produced by Glyn Johns. In 1983, Kennerly married Emmylou.

And I’m like, hello? Country concept albums? Who knew such a thing existed?  He MARRIED Emmylou? Why have I never even heard OF these really rather good albums, never mind actually listened to them? Are not many of my pals country nuts? Do they not spend their lives on he Word blog? Hello, Paul Williams, Dave Rothon, Bob Machin… is there some weird conspiracy going on? Has anyone heard of these things before and just not thought to tell anyone? Did you simply not like them? I think we should be told…

Mandelson the Destroyer

•November 4, 2009 • 13 Comments

I guess I thought that The New Party might just shut the fuck up for the next few months until they are consigned to the dustbin of history, but no. The First Secretary of State, Peter ‘Lord’ Mandelson, who has responsibility for both business and universities, has announced his ‘new framework‘ for university reform. Universities are to be consumer led. Business is to have a much greater say in the design of courses. Apart from meeting the needs of employers, and to offer consumer satisfaction, the review’s third primary aim is that universities should promote ’social mobility’. Learning for its own sake is over. The instrumentalists have taken over.

I had the privilege of going to university twice. I started as a student at St. David’s University College, Lampeter, in 1976; the same year that ‘Lord’ Mandelson graduated from St. Catherine’s College, Oxford, with a degree in Politics, Philosophy and Economics, the traditional degree of those little shits who had already decided by the time they left school they wanted to be political apparatchiks for a living. (Will political parties post- Mandelson’s reforms get to have a say in the future design of PPE degrees?)

At that time, only about 5% of the population got to go to university. My Dad worked on Newhaven Docks, my Mum worked at the Co-Op, and my old school, Newhaven Tideway, was hardly a beacon of educational excellence. In fact, I was the only person from my year at school who went straight to university, though others followed after a gap year or two. I was supposed to be studying philosophy, but I didn’t, because I hadn’t gone to university for any other reason than that I wanted to get away from home, take drugs, lose my virginity, and sing in rock and roll bands, all of which aims I proudly achieved. You might call it ’social mobility’, I suppose.

Towards the end of my time at Lampeter, the Professor of Philosophy called me into his office.

‘Mr. Marchant,’ he said. ‘you’ve been with us almost three years, yet we have no record of any written work from you. How is this possible? What have you been doing with your time?’

I told him, and he nodded sagely.

‘Let me tell you a story,’ he said. ‘For many years, I taught in African universities, where having a degree was seen as a magic amulet, one which had voodoo powers. The mere flourishing of the certificate would cause doors to be flung open, and great wealth to accrue to those who were fortunate enough to hold such a powerful piece of paper. Imagine my disappointment when I came back to teach in this country to discover that having a degree was viewed in exactly the same way. I’m glad you don’t think like that, and I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your time with us; good afternoon Mr Marchant.’ A few months later, in June 1979, I was the proud holder of the rarest degree from any British university, the fail.  My social mobility had earned me nothing other than… fun, I suppose. A bit of space, some time to ‘find myself’ as they say in California. God forbid that in ‘Lord’ Mandelson’s scheme of things the ‘consumers’ of ‘employer designed’ degrees should achieve any such thing as fun, or pleasure. How will it prepare them for business? How will it enable them to be productive cogs in the creaking machinery of UK PLC? What use would such individuals be to industry?

Ten years after my non-graduation  I went back to university, to Lancaster, to study the history of science. This time I was motivated entirely by interest in the subject. It was 1989, and earlier that year, Tory Education Secretary Kenneth Baker had come to Lancaster and planted his ‘timebomb’; the doubling of the university intake. I guess that was no bad thing, as 5% was probably too low – although, Shock! Horror!- lots of highly intelligent interesting and wonderful people didn’t go, and didn’t particularly want to go. Many of my best friends… didn’t go to university! One of the persistant contributors to this blog, and one of the funniest and best bloggers I know… kids, he didn’t go to university! He hasn’t even got A levels! Still; more people who wanted to go to university could go, and that’s a good thing.  But 50% of school leavers, which is the New Party’s current target? A ridiculous nonsense, as everyone who works in higher education knows.

Another consequence of Baker’s speech  was the disapearance in 1992 of the Polytechnics. I’d love to know what was wrong with polytechnics. They had a proud history stretching back into the 1830’s. If we really value work and experience based models of higher education, why abolish the institutions which were best at it… and force them into the shape of a university… and then force the universities into the shape of polytechnics, except without the proud history? Two stories of pals of mine who went to polytechnics, specifically Portsmouth Poly… One old pal from school studied automotive engineering at Portsmouth Poly, did very well, and then went to work at the world famous Ricardo plant in Shoreham. After ten years or so working there, he fell in love with a French lass, and applied for a job at Renault in Paris. ‘Where did you go to University?, they asked him. ‘I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘I went to Portsmouth Polytechnic…’ ‘Oooh,’ said his very impressed employers… ‘Le Polytechnique!’ (Because the Ecole Polytechnique is about the best college in France.) My pal didn’t think to make clear the difference, but perhaps he didn’t need to. He is one of the best qualified and passionate engineers in his field; the ghost of Portsmouth Poly should celebrate him.

And which top British poet has a third in Geography from Portsmouth Poly? And is proud of it?

So I emerged from Lancaster University in 1992 with a degree in the history of science, and I passionately hope that it is of no utility whatsoever to any employers ever, because I did it for its own sake; because, as I said earlier, I was fascinated by the subject. I also hope that it has done very little for me as a consumer, and that it has not aided my social mobility one jot. Of course, The New Party’s view of history is well known; who can forget Charles Clarkes’ pronouncements on medieval history? No no no; only politicians need to study things like philosophy and history; the rest of you can study whatever shit British Industry deems necessary.

And… what British Industry would that be?

According to ‘Lord’ Mandelson, British employers are unhappy with the standards of graduates who enter the workplace. Well, my Lord, please be assured that universities are dissatisfied with the quality of entrants they get after 13 odd years in your shitty, curriculum driven instrumentalist schools.

Of course, it’s the humanities which will most obviously come under threat from ‘Lord’ Mandelson’s decree; but the sciences will wither and die too, as ‘blue sky research’ is increasingly exported to the States. Three of the top five universities on Earth are currently in the UK; you might imagine that was a cause for pride; you might imagine that The New Party might want to see if they could replicate that excellence elsewhere. But no. They want to tear down the ‘Ivory Towers’, and hand the ruins over to employers, and consumers, which are the only relations they recognise. The New Party have left our country on its knees, in the name of… what, exactly? What are they for?

To my daughter Minnie, who is in her second year at UEA studying philosophy, and who was telling me last night about her fascination with ancient greek epistomology: ‘Lord’ Mandelson says ‘Fuck Off. You should have done Marketing. Philosophy is not for the likes of you, you nasty little counter jumper. Its for me, and the New Party’s cadres, like ‘Ed’ ‘Bollocks’ Balls and ‘Ed’ Milliband.’

To Claude Levi-Strauss, whose death was announced yesterday… ‘Lord’ Mandelson says, you should have stopped wasting your time on the raw, or the cooked, you stupid cunt. Write us something about consumer behaviour. I’m glad you’re dead, you time wasting old shit.’

To the University of Cambridge, for raising £550 000 to buy Seigfried Sassoon’s papers, ‘Lord’ Mandelson says, ‘You wankers. Who will be left to read this crap? You should have given the money to The New Party, or to me. I fucking love money. I’ve got fuck loads.’

This time next year, Mandelson and The New Party will be history themselves. And what will their legacy be? The Tories in charge again. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

19 Cannabis Deaths per annum?

•November 3, 2009 • 1 Comment

According to a table of drug harm accompanying a piece by the excellent Prof. David ‘Nut by name but not by nature’ Nutt in today’s Guardian (and I’m sorry, but this table hasn’t been reproduced in the online version, so far as I can see), there are 19 deaths from cannabis use per annum in the UK.

Prof Nutt in his piece says, ‘… that’s one of the reasons why we thought cannabis should be class C, because you cannot die of cannabis overdose.’

So I wonder where the 19 deaths come from? Over-eating cake? Falling asleep on the sofa with a burning spliff in your hand? Failure to catch your breath because you are giggling too much? I think we should be told.

Off The Page, Vietnamese food, 2666 and all that…

•October 24, 2009 • 5 Comments

I’ve just been to that London for a recording of the Radio Four series ‘Off The Page’, which is due for broadcast sometime in November. My fellow guests were the excellent Melissa Cole, and the legendary Simon Fanshawe. We were debating the demise of the pub, and hopefully it will make for a fun listen.

I struggle more and more with that London, though I did have the enormous pleasure after the recording of running into the worshipful Matt Barnard outside the Salisbury on St. Martin’s Lane. Astute readers of ‘The Longest Crawl’ will notice that I ran into him in the penultimate chapter on the ferry to Shetland; he is a great human being, and I love to run into him, at Pilton, on ferries, and outside pubs in London and Edinburgh.

And old Charley is now living and working in that London, so I went to stay with her, which was the hugest pleasure, and she took me out to dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant in Dalston with loads of my nieces and nephews and my ex-sister-in-law, Em, with whom I once lodged, and of whom I am very fond. Niece Z lived in Vietnam for a year, and speaks quite a bit of Vietnamese; and this particular restaurant is clearly very well thought of. So if ever I was going to start liking Vietnamese food, this was my moment. Thing is, I’ve had Vietnamese food a couple of times before, and on both occasions I felt quite ill afterwards. But I bit the bullet, and let Niece Z order for me; and it was quite horrible. Is it me? Or am I alone in disliking  cold pancakes stuffed with under cooked vegetables, or slimy boiled up fish? All the Londoners seemed to lap it up; perhaps I’m just being provincial, as so often. I made my excuses as soon as I could, and hurried off to find an all-night newsagent to buy a Mars Bar to take the taste away. But I’m beginning to suspect that Vietnamese food is the Emperor’s New Clothes of metropolitan cuisine. After all, who would go to Dalston and eat anything other than Turkish?

But a huge thrill of being in London, one which sustained me all through a white knuckle ride of a hell flight back to Belfast, was buying and becoming utterly absorbed in Roberto Bolano’s ‘2666′. The reviewers have gone bonkers for it, and I can see why. The reviewer who said that it was like the novel that Borges would have written was spot on. But I’m reminded too of the spooky story-telling power of Isak Dinesen, or the hypnotic list-making of Perec or Harry Matthews, with some breath-takingly vast Proustian sentences that carry you through the narrative like waves carrying surf dudes up Fistral Beach. Astounding stuff; buy it here!