Saturday, 30 December 2006
Friday, 29 December 2006
Monday, 18 December 2006
a) I am a very anxious person; I get upset by college meetings let alone actual oppression and violence
b) yesterday I felt a bit overwhelmed in an Anglican church full of about 300 people sitting down in pews; I'm not really very good with crowds or noise
c) they are having a really rough time there -- see this
d) it's actually seriously f***ed up and no one seems to care
e) I get very car sick
f) I don't much like travelling
g) I really don't like travelling with other people
h) one of the people I am travelling with is, like my dad, an enthusiastic observer of plants, so this will probably involve long hearty walks with Latin names which I am supposed to get excited about; another of my companions is a keen natur(al)ist and I have a suspicion that he might be into long hearty walks as well; though at least the bloke we're visiting is more of a cocktails man. (Me I like nature but I'm very very lazy, and besides I've never got the hang of going for walks without a dog, though happy men are the next best thing I suppose. I can't really go for anything more energetic than an amble.)
i) I know no Hebrew or Arabic except what a half-Egyptian bloke called George whom I work with taught me; he says "Shakrun" is Arabic for thankyou. But I probably got the vowels wrong.
j) I'm rather a podge so they'll probably think I'm American and hate me, though having said that it's not much better to be British these days
k) I either won't have enough time to read, which will make me fretful, or I will run out of books, which would be even worse; I hate running out of books; once I only took three books for a few days in Paris (work trip) and I had to read each of them twice through
l) the political situation deserves another mention at this point
On the other hand it is absolute heaven not to have to buy any Christmas presents.
Sunday, 17 December 2006
I wish someone would make a proper attack on Intelligent Design on religious grounds; the closest thing there has been to it so far have been some typically intelligent remarks by Rowan Williams, which as usual were comically misrepresented by the newspapers.
Intelligent Design encapsulates what I am coming to think is wrong with the extreme evangelical church as represented by certain influential groups in America, and the danger of the milder evangelical tradition in which I was brought up. It is a confidence in knowing God which leads to a false and in the end patronising confidence that therefore you know what God is like. You know what he would do in a given situation: he’s become a character in your head. “What Would Jesus Do?” seems to me the daftest thing to try to live by. Read the gospels, and you get a strong sense that he would probably do something quite unexpected; something uncomfortable or even frightening; not necessarily something that would make me feel good about myself if I were there. Something I had to think about hard and long before I could begin to understand what it meant. He does angry and difficult things sometimes and his disciples, who must have known him best of anyone, were usually left behind and confused, bewildered and asking the wrong questions. (Likewise his mother and family.)
Thinking that God created the world, and thinking that species change over time as the result of the selective breeding which comes about from competition over resources, are so clearly thoughts about two such different things, on such different levels, that if you find them completely incompatiable that seems to betray something about your views on God. Viz; that you know how he works; that you know what he would or would not allow to happen (if you think that natural selection is cruel); that you can define him and map him out. You’ve got a model of God in your head and that’s who you believe in. To some extent it is impossible not to do this, which is why Simone Weil said that when we pary to God we must imagine that he doesn’t exist – because our understanding of the word “exists” in relation to God is going to be wrong. Frankly I find that sort of thing a bit excessive, but I take her point; every time we think we’ve got God pinned down and sorted out we are making ourselves bigger and more important than him, and trying to put ourselves in control. I’m afraid I’ve never found a better way to put this than the bit in (the book of) The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe where the children are going to meet Aslan and when they’re told he’s a lion they say “Oh so he’s a tame lion?” And the Beavers are shocked and say “No, he’s not a tame lion”.
The paradox is that at the same time God has made himself knowable to us; he has given us the right to be his friends, co-heirs of Christ. So the evangelical willingness to pray to God about tiny things, like “where is my pencil case?” (a favourite of my childhood) is on the one hand a willingness to let God into every corner of my life and a belief in his total love for me, and on the other hand has a danger of my making up narratives to wind God into in order to control him. It’s a similar paradox to God, the greatest thing in the universe, becoming one of the smallest and most helpless, a baby with no home. At least, that’s how it seems to me now, but I hope my understanding will always continue to increase as I get older.
The endangered animal swimming across it was plump and fluffy, and out to retrieve the floating fish food. It was a rat; it made me exclaim, ah, look how lovely it is! The reason it is endangered is that rats found a way to get into the walls of our house. My parents, being enlightened creatures who would never reject anything out of hand for conventional reasons, don't in the least mind there being rats living by the pond, but they don't like the idea of them inside the lining of the walls, which is sensible given the chaos they could wreak on the cables and piping there. The problem is that, as I can attest from my experience of keeping rats as pets, once an idea has got in their head it is very hard to make them forget it. My parents comprehensively closed the hole they found with wire netting, that spray filler stuff, a slate and some concrete, but still the rats managed to open it again, and now my parents think there may be another hole. They bought a thing that makes a high-pitched noise which rats apparently dislike, though of course they've had to turn that off while I'm at home with my tame rodents (Lilian, Muesli and Yaffle). And they have a humane trap in which they catch occasional (very annoyed) specimens; they then take them off to our furthest away field, where they join the ex pat rat community, presumably reminiscing about the good old days by the pond. (Unless, they just get on with their lives.)
But if they can't stop the rats getting in the walls then as a last resort they will call in an exterminator. This saddens me, obviously, though I can see what they mean. It's part of what's fundamentally wrong with life. The other day the subject came up of Ph.D.s and whether they're something to be proud of -- and I realised that the greatest achievement of my life so far is stopping my first rats, the late lamented Izzy and Aggy, from getting inside my sofa. After a huge number of attempts I eventually managed this by covering the entire frame of my sofa except for the cushions in chicken wire. I expect that my parents will not be able to do this to the whole house, so the rat swimming across the pond to collect fish food is probably facing an uncertain future.
Saturday, 16 December 2006
My mother is a loony, but in an excellent way. She has odd habits, like sometimes when she goes to the supermarket she'll only buy things beginning with the same letter; in my time I have come up with lots of circumlocutions for milk, like "bovine lactations". She once wrote a very moving poem about her love for cardboard boxes. My father is even more of a loony, so it's a wonder I turned out so normal.
Friday, 15 December 2006
Wednesday, 13 December 2006
If you have 79p to spare then the Girls Aloud Megamix, part of the Something Kind of Ooooh EP, is packed with pop value.
As an 'experiment' I have typed 'megamix' into the itune shop search box. The Gloria Gaynor megamix seems to go straight from 'I will survive' into 'I am what I am' and might be a bit strong for my tastes. It could be kept in reserve as an emergency megamix. I already have the Chris Cox Britney megamix from the Greatest Hits, which doesn't so much mix the big tracks as play them all at the same time like some sort of 'mash-up'; it requires more active thought than is ideal from a megamix. Stylishly, Boney M have a 'mégamix', which is presumably cheaper than the musical; I actually downloaded that one. The free thirty seconds of the Technotronic megamix did not help me to remember if they actually had more than one hit (Pump up the jam?) and at this point I lost interest. As a whole, disappointing.
Monday, 11 December 2006
The bit with the flirty dog Mouffette was quoted in the Literary Review's preview guide to the Bad Sex award. I can't believe David Mitchell didn't win for the woman making a noise like a tortured moomintroll.
Sunday, 10 December 2006
Anyway now they're back it seems like there could have been an alternative world, where Camilla and Di could talk to each other when they handed over the children, though they were never friends, and the Labour party getting into power made things better. &c &c &c. &c.
Saturday, 9 December 2006
Thursday, 7 December 2006
And I just found out they're Swedish!
Tuesday, 5 December 2006
My grandpa, whom I miss, signed the pledge as a young man, back when this was a big social movement. He grew up in Plymouth, and worked in the docks. Later in his life he changed his mind about the things that had led him to give up alcohol, and thought that moderate drinking was fine and no problem. But he never went back on his vow because he had promised. It still makes a big impression on me that he kept to it. I don't think I would have; at least, I can't swear that I would have.
He used to remind me of the fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. After he died I thought it was a pity that description made him sound so dull, because he wasn't at all.
Monday, 4 December 2006
This is to promote Robbie Williams. I approve of the way he doesn't appear and isn't mentioned in it. If I had more energy I'd make a list of the itune-able songs in his latest album but I'm tired out through chatting to nervous seventeen-year-olds about their academic achievements. At the head of the list would be "Bongo Bong and Je Ne T'aime Plus" with Lily Allen. I have not asked any interview candidates about Robbie Williams yet, because by law we are not allowed to talk about anything human. It's very hard work. I wish I was allowed to get each of them to recommend me one book.
Friday, 1 December 2006
You certainly don't need the cover art (see right). The single "Something About You" is quite cute but not essential.
"Window Shopping" is either about sex as a metaphor for shopping, or about shopping as a metaphor for sex, or may just be about harassing shop assistants. Anyway it's catchy and worth 79p. It samples Mrs Slocombe but she's not talking about her hilarious cat so it's OK. "Ain't a Love" is good; 'if this ain't a love', she asks, 'why is my ass in motion all that you're thinking of?' This is an odd definition of love, and I'm afraid I can't see the whole situation working out well. "Beware of the Dog" is great but your attitude to sampling might affect your enjoyment here; it uses the bass line from Depeche Mode's version of "Personal Jesus". Admittedly about 80% of the song's brilliance comes from Depeche Mode and only a small part from Jamelia, but then she's standing on the shoulders of giants, like Bernard of Chartres.
That's 79p x 4 making £3.16, saving £4.79 on the amazon price!
Wednesday, 29 November 2006
Monday, 27 November 2006
PS When I wrote this I also forgot Lawrence Durrell. The Alexandria Quartet is great, the Avignon Quintet greater, and actually the latter even has some reasonably-portrayed women in it.
Sunday, 26 November 2006
This website will do your head in.
I have renamed this blog in its honour, after the dwelling-place of Veronica, the first rat saint. I write with Lilian the rat trying to squeeze through my sleeves. She is not a candidate for sainthood; if she were I can't imagine keeping her as a pet. Animals, unlike people, aren't on any moral journey, and this is why they are so good for us. My rats' response to me is based entirely on my actions and their needs, and this is almost inexpressibly restful. Lilian has tired of me now and is trying to climb on my bookcase. In a moment I will offer her a Delicious Treat, and she will happily go home.
Thursday, 23 November 2006
Recently recommended to me as the best crime novel ever set in Oxford or Cambridge (in my conlocutor's opinion edging out even Gaudy Night, my favourite) is Michael Innes' Operation Pax. I've ordered it second-hand. I like to get book recommendations from interesting people.
The problem is that the thing is the size of a smallish breeze block and would take up a substantial amount of luggage allowance. Back when I first read Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy I was struck by his suggestion, both within the text itself with regard to Shakespeare's plays (it goes down very badly with an English faculty as I recall) and in an article he wrote for a newspaper at about the time it came out, that we should chop books up into sections freely and without regret. In the article he said that A Suitable Boy had been specifically laid out with this in mind, so that each of the twenty chapters started on a recto, and he urged people to take out razor blades and have a go. I did this to my copy, cutting it into five not twenty pieces; not only did it make it a whole lot more manageable to read, but it gave me a pleasant feeling of transgressing middle-class mores. Also it shocked my then boyfriend. On another occasion I had to buy (due to reading compulsion) the second volume of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle before it came out in paperback, and to save my wrists I customised it into a paperback. I took the cardboard boards off either end, wrapped the dustjacket round the end pages, and covered the outside in sticky-backed plastic to make an improvised flexible cover. Its second-hand value may have been affected -- but I was unlikely to sell it ever anyway.
If the new Pynchon becomes as beloved a Pynchon to me as, say, Mason and Dixon, then I'm not going to be too precious about keeping it a nice copy, because I'll get through more than one anyway. And the paper of hardbacks seems, perversely, to be more vulnerable to reading than that of paperbacks. Perhaps a future post will be: what is wrong with hardbacks.
Wednesday, 22 November 2006
In general, my rats trust me, and if something startles them they move towards me rather than away. They seem to feel safe on my shoulders, or in my sleeves. Zoe was very light on her feet and sometimes felt like a small bird perched on my hands (unlike Lilian who sits on her stomach). She was very fast moving and my nickname for her was sleekit, but sometimes she would fall asleep in my sleeve, making it much harder for me to type or turn the pages of books.
Friday, 27 October 2006
Still everything he's ever written has been worth reading and his Christmas Cracker compilations are brilliant. They make excellent gifts for invalids, among others.
Another thing I can't get worked up about is Celebdaq which seems like it will stop being fun if I ever spend more than five minutes on it in one week. And that is why I occasionally make minus profits (losses, to get technical) and do about one tenth as well as the other people in my league. Probably. Or is it Jordan's fault? It's unlikely to be mine -- I'm quite intelligent you know.
Thursday, 26 October 2006
Once I've finished it I will return to the popjustice compilation CD which is just Great.
I am reading the biography of Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser. It's reminding me a bit of the gospels, where you're just getting into it and suddenly you realise he's on the road to Jerusalem. Otherwise it is not reminding me of the gospels that much.
Tuesday, 24 October 2006
Maybe it's a bit like Spike Jonze's video for FatBoy Slim's Praise You, and the song is quite forgettable, but then also it's quite pleasing.
Yay! Their compilation CD is very good, only some of the tracks are too short, and you're just getting into them when they fade into something else.