Monday, August 29, 2011

Louie S2 E11

CK in Iraq
Until yesterday I hadn't previously watched any of Louie, Louis CK's sitcom on FX. I had seen CK's old sitcom on HBO and was not impressed - that show was damp and weird with very few laughs. But I do find CK funny and on an impulse I decided to check out a random episode of his new show: S2 E11. And I have to say that this time I was impressed. It was funny, well made with great production values (except maybe the Hueys pretending to be Blackhawks) and surprisingly affecting. The episode is partially based on the story of CK's USO tour that he wrote about beautifully on his blog, here and also partially based on a story that his 9 year old year old daughter suggested to him. 
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The show is a little like Seinfeld in that it is centred around CK's real life as a comedian living in New York, but it is not at all Seinfeldian. It's a single camera show with no laugh track and every episode written and directed by CK. It's a darker programme than Seinfeld which was pretty dark for its time. In real life CK is divorced and the father of two girls aged 5 and 9 and much of his humour is about being newly single, overweight, depressed and angry. 
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Louie gets lowish ratings but the cast is small, everyone works for close to scale and the show is cheap to make. I hope Louie runs for years as I've seen a couple more episodes now and they were also very good. I may, however, be precisely the target audience: Louis CK is exactly my age, approximately my build and I also have two daughters aged 5 and 9; we're both writers, Louis CK went to high school in Boston with my wife Leah and I'm also more than a little ticked off at the state of the world. But even if you're none of these things you should still check out his show. Actually read his blog post first about his USO tour and then watch the episode and I think you'll enjoy it even more. 

Sunday, August 28, 2011

So I Wasn't Crazy After All

In a report in Friday's Los Angeles Times the Pentagon revealed details of its new hypersonic space glider that can fly at twenty times the speed of sound. Loyal readers of this blog will remember the post I did two and a half years ago about my UFO experience back in Denver in 2007...If you look at the picture of the space plane on Wikipedia and the picture I did in my blog post (which I've copied in full below) you'll see a remarkable similarity...My logic in the post below isn't too shabby either...
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In the autumn of 2007 the wife and I were in the back garden of our house in Denver looking at the stars and chatting when we both saw a triangular shaped object flying north over the Front Range Mountains. It was massive, much bigger than any aircraft I've ever seen, entirely black but with three lights at the points of the triangle. Its size was impressive, but what was incredible about it was its speed - much much faster than any conventional jet. We watched it fly along the Front Range for about five seconds and then amazingly it turned to the north east on a dime and accelerated so fast it was beyond the horizon in seconds.
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The missus, who's a bit sharper than I am, said "Without discussing it at all, let's go inside and draw what we both think we saw." We went inside and I drew a triangular shaped object with lights and hers looked more like a massive flying V. I googled the UFO hotline and called them up but the recorded message said: "This is a serious business, no more crank calls please." I told them what we saw anyway and left our number but they never called back.
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Ok so what did we see? Certainly not an extra terrestrial craft. Why would an alien spaceship have running lights? I also dismissed the idea that it was a remote controlled plane that only looked far away but was actually low to the ground, how could a remote controlled aircraft cross the entire Denver metro area in a few seconds? Could it have been a conventional aircraft? No, no commercial plane or glider has that shape or speed. A stealth fighter or bomber? No, this thing was huge and the stealth aircraft I've seen are not that big or that fast. No, my theory is that we saw an un-named black ops stealth plane whose existence has not yet been revealed to the public. It was flying north as if it had just taken off from Colorado Springs which of course is home to NORAD, the Air Force Academy and several air force bases and has easy access to Lockheed Martin, Denver where stealth technologies have been pioneered in the past.
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It's been 18 years since the United States government admitted the existence of a new secret aircraft type. What's been happening in those 18 years? Quite a lot if you ask me. The USAF or CIA has a big supersonic stealth aircraft that it chooses to remain quiet about, either that or the aliens aren't quite as subtle as they should be.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

David Foster Wallace - The Pale King

I took David Foster Wallace’s unfinished novel The Pale King with me on my big recent plane journey. The book was as beautiful, infuriating, intelligent, lyrical and annoying as its first paragraph, below:

Past the flannel plains and blacktop graphs and skylines of canted rust, and past the tobacco-brown river overhung with weeping trees and coins of sunlight through them on the water downriver, to the place beyond the windbreak, where untilled fields shimmer shrilly in the A.M. heat: shattercane, lamb’s quarter, cutgrass, sawbrier, nutgrass, goldenrod, creeping charlie, butter print, nightshade, ragweed, wild oat, vetch, butcher grass, invaginate volunteer beans, all heads gently noddding in a morning breeze like a mother’s soft hand on your cheek. An arrow of starlings fired from the windbreaks sunflower, four more, one bowed and horses in the distance standing rigid as still as toys. All nodding. Electric sounds of insects at their business. Ale colored sunshine and pale sky and whorls of cirrus so high they cast no shadow. Insects all business all the time. Quartz and chert and schist and chondrite  iron scabs in granite. Very old land. Look around you. The horizon trembling, shapeless. We are all of us brothers.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

My Current Favourite Creepy Ad

Australian beer commercials have always been good. In fact Australian beer commercials are much better than actual Australian beer which is kind of samey and bland. Carlton and VB have always had funny ads but Tooheys has decided that the way to go is with creepy. Their tongue ad from a few years back is notorious and this ad which is everywhere in Oz right now is strangely disturbing. Somehow this seems worse than a zombie plague to me. The music is Breathe by the Prodigy.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

A No Alibis Autopsy

I'm between flights at an airport in Malaysia so this is just a quick post to thank everyone who turned out for Dec Burke and myself reading at No Alibis last week. It was a pretty fun event. Dec and I didn't actually read but just riffed for about an hour, on, you know, stuff. 
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A big thank you to novelists Stuart Neville, David Park, Andrew Pepper and Gerard Brennan who came by to show support and to Colin Bateman and Brian McGilloway who had very good reasons to skip this time...As someone in the audience yelled out at one point "Is there anyone here who isn't a crime novelist?!"
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I'd like to thank everyone who came out for a beer afterwards and all the good people who actually bought a book from Dave Torrans! Like I say it was a nice event: goaded by Mr Burke I was probably a little too indiscreet and if you were there you'll know what I was talking about and if not there's no way I'm going to repeat it here...
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See you all at the next one!

Friday, August 19, 2011

Underdogs Schmunderdogs

(a post from last summer)
In the so called Miracle On Ice a team of college ice hockey players from the USA beat the might of the Soviet Union at the 1980 Winter Olympics. I have never been impressed by this “miracle” because of the huge amount of cognitive dissonance generated when you try to put the words “America” and “underdog” in the same sentence. If, say, the Gambian ice hockey team had beaten the Russians in the Olympic games that might have been something. The most economically powerful country in the world is a lot of things but it ain’t never gonna be no underdog.
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I had a similar reaction watching James Erskine’s film One Night in Turin about England’s campaign in the 1990 World Cup. The movie's narrator (a clearly unconvinced Gary Oldman) says that English football was a total shambles in 1990 but somehow the plucky underdogs - a team which The Sun had called “donkeys” and “no hopers” - won the heart of a nation. England lost, of course, in that memorable semi final match in Turin against Germany when Chris Waddle missed the penalty and Paul Gascoigne blubbed like John Turturro getting dragged out to Miller’s Crossing for his cranial exam.
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Erskine's film is a big grab bag of cliches, which I don’t really mind at all, but this underdog nonsense will not stand. England were the sixth seed in the 1990 World Cup. The sixth seed out of 24 teams. Sorry, but you cannot be a seed and also the underdog. If you want to do a film about underdogs in 1990, how about plucky little Cameroon, who beat Argentina and then got eliminated in dramatic fashion, by, er, England.
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Nah, England weren’t underdogs then and they certainly aren’t now. The bookies have them as the third favourite to win the 2010 World Cup. England of course is home to the richest football league on the planet and six of the richest fifteen football clubs. England is currently in the Top 10 of the FIFA rankings and has never been out of the Top 20 since the rankings began. England won the World Cup in 1966 and English clubs have won the Champions League and European Cup 11 times. I’m from Northern Ireland. Currently we’re ranked 56 in the world and we haven’t even qualified for a World Cup since 1986. To paraphrase Lloyd Bensten, I know underdogs, underdogs are friends of mine and England, mate, I love ya, but you’re no underdog.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

No Alibis

Remember when David and Saul joined forces to do battle with the enemies of Jehovah at Mt Gilboa? And remember when the Sex Pistols played at the Lesser Free Trade Hall in Manchester and everyone there subsequently formed a band? And remember when JD Salinger and Ernest Hemingway liberated the bar of the Ritz Hotel in August 1944? Of course you do, you're a well read man/woman about town. Well on Thursday night for one night only Declan Burke and I request the pleasure of your company for a similar epoch defining event when we read from our new novels at No Alibis Bookshop in Belfast.
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There will be fireworks, sparklers, possibly glo sticks. If things go badly Dec and I will slip to the panic room or we will perform Abbot and Costello's Who's on First routine...Do come along. That's No Alibis Bookshop, Belfast, Thursday the 18th of August at 6.00 p.m.
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And if you want to hear my interview yesterday with Kim Lenaghan on BBC Radio Ulster's Arts Extra you can do so here. 

The Green Heretic

In Australia we have the remarkable phenomenon of a small Green Party tail wagging the dog of the mighty Australian Labor Party. The greens say jump and Prime Minister Gillard asks how high. At the behest of the greens an extremely unpopular "carbon tax" has been introduced to do what exactly? No one knows. If the Greens in Australia really wanted to do something about making Australia "carbon neutral" they would impose massive tariffs on coal exports to China, they would be opposed to immigration, in favour of GM foods and they would be strongly pro nuclear power. At least this is the argument that Mark Lynas makes in his interesting new book The God Species. He argues that greens opposed to nuclear and GM foods are muddle headed, essentially unserious people. 
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Who is Mark Lynas? He's maybe the most important writer, journalist and green thinker in the UK. His green credentials are first rate: he's been writing, blogging and campaigning on green issues for a decade. He's certainly no environmental skeptic: he's looked carefully at the evidence and is convinced that the planet is getting warmer and the reason for this is the pumping of fossil fuels into the atmosphere. But now he's seen as a heretic amongst greens because he says that nuclear power is the only answer to the problem of carbon pollution. What about windmills, solar, tidal, other renewables? Well Lynas has run the numbers and thinks that these are pipe dreams. They will never be able to provide enough energy for a developing planet.
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In part the book is one big mea culpa, because it was Lynas who for many years led the green attack on nuclear power and GM foods in the UK. He has now had a Damascene conversion and is promoting nuclear with the the zeal of a convert. He accuses greens who oppose nuclear & GM of being shortsighted at best and blind prejudiced at worst. Lynas is certainly a bit more pessimistic about climate change than I am, and I think the real future is probably going to be in nuclear fusion (not dangerous fast breeder fission reactors) but his book is food for thought.  The Guardian has a nice review of it here and the comments underneath show just how strongly people feel about Lynas and his change of heart on nuclear energy. 

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

On The Radio...Uh Oh

I'll be on BBC Radio Ulster Arts Extra Tonight (Tuesday) at 6.30 talking about stuff. Subjects may include: the Irish Crime Fiction Renaissance, why my local supermarket in St Kilda is staffed entirely by people from Derry, what kangaroo tastes like, why everyone in Hollywood wants to make their TV shows in Belfast and what my latest novel is about. Or, probably, none of that. 
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Wednesday update. It's all over. What did I talk about? 
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For the next week or so
You can listen again here...

Friday, August 12, 2011

On The Road Again

Last year Colin Bateman and Stuart Neville showed up to
heckle me. If you were there you'll remember that I retorted by
bursting into tears and running into the street.
I'm heading home to Belfast today. It's a long flight through many strange and interesting destinations (Stansted Airport anyone?) so I may be offline for a bit. I will be posting some new (and some recycled blogs) over the next week or so and certainly feel free to comment, but be aware that I probably won't be able to reply until I get back to Melbourne...I'm not ignoring you, just away from my desk - either that or, you know, clinging to a piece of wreckage in the Indian Ocean. 
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And if you're in the neighbourhood why don't you come see me and Declan Burke read from our new novels at No Alibis bookshop on Botanic Avenue, Belfast next Thursday. There will be blood. Or more likely wine, cheese and a few funny stories from Dec. From me expect broody silence and the odd monosyllabic, gutteral remark. It'll be fun. Bring the kids. That's Thursday August 18th at 6.00 pm. Remember when Oscar Wilde went on his lecture tour of the United States? It'll be like that. Except totally different. 
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I'm also going to try to visit The Games of Thrones set. (If anyone can hook me up with that I'd really appreciate it.) If I make it to the set I'll take some pics and put them up on the blog. 

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Master and Commander

I'm leaving on an epic fight to Ireland tomorrow and the prospect of a 19 hour journey in economy class with a bad knee is causing me a fair amount of stress. I have prepared some counter measures such as getting a book that looks interesting (The Rest Is Noise by Alex Ross), buying some jelly babies, and picking up a magazine or two. The one thing I've made sure to do is to load a copy of Patrick O'Brian's Master and Commander on my iPod. This will be my third time reading or listening to the novel. I think its the most comforting audiobook I've ever heard. It's narrated by Patrick Tull and there's something special about his voice especially in the long passages when the Sophie is at sea and Maturin is watching the birds and the breeze is gentle and not much is happening...in these sections there is a wonderful sense of Mediterranean calm that drips into your psyche and lowers the blood pressure. As far as I remember the film version of Master and Commander took precisely zero plot points from the book and it was a real shame because the story of the two Irishmen, Dillon and Maturin, is one of the best in the entire O'Brian canon. Guilt, loyalty, betrayal, courage, cowardice, regret - this is what Master and Commander is about. My little brother is an intelligence officer in the royal navy and I spent many years nagging him to read it even though it's not his sort of thing at all. When he was bored out of his mind in a tent in Afghanistan he finally did read it and he confessed that he really enjoyed it. I'm sure some people might find it slow or esoteric but you should try it, it is far more than a sea story and I do recommend it for long commutes or very long flights. 

Hating The Poor

When George Orwell decided he wanted to understand Britain's underclass he lived for a time as a homeless man and wrote about his experiences in Down and Out in Paris and London. In The Road To Wigan Pier Orwell travelled to the coalfields, went down a mine and lodged in a filthy boarding house. Even though he went to the most exclusive private school in England, Eton, Orwell writes with compassion and sympathy about the British working class because he lived with them, ate with them, grew to understand them. This is not expected of today's social commentators. In an editorial in yesterday's Daily Mail, Max Hastings, who went to Charterhouse labels the current British underclass as "yobs," and "wild beasts" among other things. In the comment thread underneath the article Britain's poorest people are described as "pond life," "scum," "animals," "vermin," etc. etc. Neither Max Hastings nor anyone else who writes for the Mail would ever dream of doing an Orwell these days. Britain's underclass are simply beyond the pale. Hatred for the working class prevails everywhere, both in obvious forms in a Mail comment thread and in more subtle ways in the books and films which are offered for our consumption by the private school elites. In an unintentionally hilarious paragraph Hastings laments the fact the working class don't seem to have even cared that much about the Royal Wedding. I deplore the looters, rioters and their actions but unless they are willing to attempt to understand the poor the people who went Charterhouse or Eton or Harrow have nothing worthwhile to say on this subject and can be safely ignored. 

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

London Fields

I've been avoiding London Fields by Martin Amis for many years. Why? A silly reason: Amis came to an event at a bookstore I was working at in the 90's and was a bit of a wanker; I had read one Martin Amis novel before and hadn't really liked it so I didn't feel the urge to read any others. It's a classic mistake though to let your feelings for an author influence your reading of his or her novel and I think I'm finally over my Amis animus.
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I liked London Fields although I wasn't overwhelmed by it and it seems to me that the novel has dated poorly. It's a murder mystery set in an ever so slightly distopic modern London with an East End gangster who dreams of  becoming World Darts Champion, a doomed girl who can see into the future and a failing American novelist on the make. There are some good lines, the characters are kind of interesting and they bounce off one another like darts off a dartboard when I've been throwing. I think Martin Amis must have based his gangster Keith on the real darts player Keith Deller whom he profiled in the book Interviewing Mrs Nabokov and I guess this is the flaw in the novel. Keith isn't very convincing in his dialogue or manner. Like a lot of English upper middle class novelists Martin Amis has a poor ear for working class dialogue and doesn't really get that segment of British life. The world of working class people is terra incognita to most private school educated people - the types who still run British society through  parliament, the BBC and the national newspapers and, alas, the types who still write most British novels. English society is still dominated by class divisions which are almost impossible to transcend if you start near the top. If you want to write the Great British Novel I think going off to private school is a serious handicap. This is one of my hobby horses so I'll get off it now....London Fields was OK but I don't think I'll be reading a lot more Amis in the future. He's not as funny as his dad or as caustic as his best friend Christopher Hitchens.
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Incidentally I think this is why commentators in the British papers were so surprised by the riots engulfing North London over the last few nights. If you went to Eton or Hogwarts you're not going to understand the concerns of the segment of society who don't trust the police, don't have anything to do in the summer and certainly don't spend August in Tuscany stiffing waitresses and reading the latest Martin Amis or Julian Barnes.

Monday, August 8, 2011

The Critical Consensus On Falling Glass

When you've finished writing a novel you have no idea how it's going to be received. It's definitely not like the moment when Paul McCartney played Hey Jude for the rest of the Beatles and everyone in the room knew that they were listening to a classic. No, books are much more subjective. For every person who loves Naked Lunch and thinks it's a masterpiece there are ten who hate it. There are exceptions...I've yet to find someone who hates Charlotte's Web but I'm sure there is a nutter out there somewhere who doesn't dig it. (Apologies if you are that nutter.)
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When I finished editing Falling Glass last October I hated the bloody book. I'd read it through half a dozen times and that was enough to kill any love I had for the jokes, the set pieces, the characters etc. I was also discouraged by the rejections I was getting from American publishers who felt it "wasn't commercial enough." My old house, Scribner, passed, Henry Holt passed, St Martin's passed. We started showing it to smaller presses who often boast about publishing "outsider voices from different perspectives" etc. and they all said no too. My Australian publishers didn't even tell me when the book was coming out and I only knew it was out here because I happened to chance upon it in a shop. 
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My UK publishers Serpents Tail liked it but they've always been very supportive of me and I did wonder if secretly they hated it and just wanted to spare my feelings. I'll chalk it up to experience I thought. No one wants to read a noir story about Irish Travellers in contemporary Ireland. I'll know better next time...
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But then the reviews started coming in...And the reviews told a vastly different story from what the voices in my head were saying. Spinetingler Magazine was one of the first out of the gate and they loved the book. Spinetingler ran a review and an extract and an interview. The next review I read was in The Guardian newspaper and the Guardian loved it too. Next came an extremely positive review in the Irish Times (and this from a paper who have sent me a few rockets in the past). Last week I got a lengthy write up at The Crime Of It All and just yesterday I got a great review in the Irish Independent from Declan Burke - a man who knows his onions where crime fiction is concerned. Declan's review was interesting because Falling Glass got the lead in the paper above John Banville's latest novel. There have been other reviews along the way on blogs, in newspapers and on Amazon. The only people I've come across who really disliked Falling Glass were a couple of listeners on Audible who couldn't get into the story or "found the narrator dry" whatever that means. My old pal Bookwitch wasn't convinced by the ending and I've had a few emails from people who also felt the same...In general though, as I said in a blog post last week, this is the best reviewed book I've had since Dead I Well May Be.
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Johnny Foreigner has also gotten on board. Serpents Tail have sold the rights to Germany, France and a couple of other EU countries which means that you can get Falling Glass in the entire British Commonwealth and most of Europe but, crucially, not North America. I have to say that I beg to differ with all the American publishers who claim that the book is not commercial in the US market. There is one place and only one place where Falling Glass is available in the US and that's on Audible.com. On Audible, as of today I've had 132 ratings, an average rating of 4.11 (out of 5), and twenty one written reviews.  By way of comparison, despite heavy advertising, a recent profile in The New Yorker, radio and TV interviews and a book tour, the latest John Banville crime novel has 10 ratings, 1 customer review and an average rating of 3.30. I'm not knocking Banville but I am knocking the US publishers who think there is no market for me or my novels. The listeners and - a fortiori - the readers are out there!
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Before I get off this solipsistic topic forever I would like to thank EVERYONE who has written a review of any of my books on Good Reads, on a blog, on Audible, in print, on any of the Amazons etc. I do read all the reviews and I take seriously what people say. I often completely disagree with you but if you've taken the trouble to review my book I will read it. And even if the corporate suits in mid town Manhattan don't want to take a chance on me, well there's nothing I can do about that, but I sure do appreciate your support. Go raibh maith agaibh

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Violent Femmes

Angie Harmon plays Jane Rizzoli in the TV series.  
My review of Blood Line by Lynda La Plante & The Silent Girl by Tess Gerritsen in yesterday's Melbourne Age. 


Lynda La Plante is one of Britain’s most accomplished screenwriters and crime novelists. Originally from Liverpool she trained as an actress and appeared regularly on British television in the 1970s, in everything from Z Cars to Rentaghost.
  Her breakthrough into screenwriting was with the acclaimed series Widows about the spouses of four deceased armed robbers and their plans to carry out a heist. La Plante’s follow up series Prime Suspect won her an Edgar Award and Helen Mirren’s performance as the tough, uncompromising DCI Jane Tennison set the bar so high that none of the female television cops who have followed in Tennison’s wake have come close to matching it.
  Blood Line is the seventh book in La Plante’s Anna Travis series. Travis is a younger, hipper, more vulnerable detective than Tennison and her character has grown from a raw rookie cop in Above Suspicion to a confident lead investigator in Blood Line.
  The book begins as a missing persons case. A man called Alan Rawlins, a devoted son to his elderly parents, a considerate boyfriend and an all round good egg has vanished from his flat. A pool of blood is discovered under the bed of the vanished man and it becomes clear that he’s either been killed or he’s killed someone else. However, at least initially, Travis has to work hard to convince her superiors that a crime has been committed at all.
  The central story of Blood Line is the unravelling of Rawlins’s complicated past. La Plante does this in a manner so meticulous that it might leave some readers impatient for action, but which I found to be fascinating. La Plante really understands the Zeitgeist and the novel is full of conversations about house prices, music, television and there’s even a detour to Britain’s trendy surfing capital of Newquay, Cornwall.
Although Anna Travis doesn’t have the powerful feminist edge of DCI Jane Tennison there is a nice scene where she is forced to work with a pushy senior male detective called Williams that frustrates her and “puts her off her stroke.”
  There are parts of Blood Line which are very grisly indeed and it begins with a bound, terrified man being horrifically beaten with a club hammer. La Plante is such a skillful writer and has such a loyal fan base that I wonder if these moments are quite necessary. We read La Plante for her deft plots, her understanding of police procedure and her unpacking of the relationships between men and women, not for shocking violence.
  The Silent Girl by Tess Gerritsen also has its heart the story of a missing person. It is the ninth Rizzoli and Isles mystery in the enjoyable series about Boston PD’s Detective Jane Rizzoli and her medical examiner colleague Maura Isles. The Rizzoli and Isles books are already best sellers and the books have now inspired an American TV show starring Angie Harmon. This level of success can often be a mixed blessing for a novelist, but Gerritsen has not let the quality control slip, in fact, with this volume she seems to be hitting her stride.
  As you would expect from a retired MD the scenes Gerritsen writes for Isles in The Silent Girl, are compelling, but in this novel it is Rizzoli who is the lead.
  Rizzoli and her team uncover a female body on a Boston rooftop covered with silvery hairs that may nor may not be human. As Rizzoli hunts down the leads she finds a link to a twenty year old murder/suicide in which a Chinatown cook supposedly shot a waiter, three customers and himself at the famous Red Phoenix restaurant. Rumours have been circulating for years that the cook didn’t do it and Rizzoli begins to have doubts herself. Meanwhile, as she pursues this case, she discovers that two missing local girls have surprising links to the Red Phoenix murders.
  The setting in Boston’s Chinatown lets Gerritsen explore some of her own heritage growing up as a second generation Chinese American in San Diego. The Silent Girl allows its characters room to breathe and takes them on a more interesting personal journey than we see in the standard mystery thriller.
  Both Lynda La Plante and Tess Gerritsen’s female protagonists are competent, assured professionals who operate in a collegiate atmosphere where their skills are respected and appreciated. Times have changed since 1972 when P D James could title a procedural An Unsuitable Job For A Woman. In the midst of all this mayhem and bloodletting it is the women who use their smarts to crack the case, put the evil men behind bars and set the world to rights. As in life, men may create, conquer and destroy but civilization is made by the women.

Friday, August 5, 2011

The Creepy Tin Tin Trailer



They wisely don't show Tin Tin's face until near the end, because he looks so creepy. This is the same animation technique that gave us that unintentionally disturbing movie The Polar Express. It's quite the collection of talent they've assembled for this film. Produced by Peter Jackson, directed by Stephen Spielberg, based on the comics by Herge and written by (get this): Stephen Moffat (Dr Who), Edgar Wright (Sean of the Dead) and Joe Cornish (Attack The Block). There's voice work by Daniel Craig and one of my geek heroes, Simon Pegg, but I'm afraid the whole thing just looks horrible because of the animation. Perhaps as an homage to Pegg and Wright the humans resemble corpses - they have no life, no joy and the backgrounds lack the beautiful primary colours that Herge always used. How could they have screwed up Tin Tin of all things? I dont know, I suppose you've got to blame Jackson and Spielberg, I guess it must be hard being surrounded by yes men all the time...

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

An Unsuitable Job For A Man

Really interesting piece in the Guardian today about the current state of British pop music and the fact that the five best selling albums in the UK are all by women. The Guardian wonders if this is a cyclical thing or the sign of a sea change in British musical tastes. In fact the Guardian even undersells the case a little because if you look at the British album chart you'll see that there is only one male vocalist in the top 12 best selling albums. Obviously Amy Winehouse is only there because of the recent tragedy of her death - but like Winehouse there are many powerful female singers who, crucially, write and perform their own material: Adele, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and others like Beyonce and Rihanna who have co-writing credits.
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I think it's a great thing. As I've gotten older I've found it much harder to listen to male vocalists. Singing pop songs seems like an utterly ridiculous job for a man and whenever I see some bloke doing it with his hair gelled back and wearing a shiny jacket, I'm a bit embarrassed for him. (I still can't believe I used to think Thom Yorke was cool.) It's even worse if you're fronting a band or if you're a country and western singer. When Adele or Dolly Parton or Lady Gaga or whoever is up there belting her heart out you can emotionally buy into the whole experience but grown men shouldn't be doing that should they? Men should be out fixing the fence or chopping wood for winter or whittling things not singing songs about how they feel in front of strangers. 
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I think this is also why there are so few African American singers under 30. Plenty or rappers yes, singers no. African American culture is always about five to ten years ahead of mainstream culture so maybe we're all just catching up? Who knows.
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When I used to play Dungeons and Dragons (this is the point in the post where my wife stops reading) of all the characters you could be: ranger, fighter, thief, magician, cleric, illusionist etc. the lamest of all was the bard. Nobody wanted to be a bloody bard! Even in the nerdy world of D&D it was just not a suitable job for a man. Still isn't.