Friday, November 5 2004, 17:00

I've got spaghetti for brains too

What a depressing turn of events! The week started out promising, but then it all turned to poo, didn't it?

I know quite a few people who would say that Americans are all stupid. That's obviously a gross generalisation; while it might be more fair to generalise and say that many Americans have gross tastes or proportions (or just portions!), you can't say they're all stupid. I have been lucky to have never met a stupid American as it happens - quite the reverse. My dear chum, Scott, is very intelligent and frequently irritates me by being more informed on topics of conversation... er... argument. Not that makes him right of course, I think we all know that if there's going to be someone who's right, it's going to be me.

But all joking aside, Scott's a clever man. And he gets sarcasm too! ;) Of course, he still exhibits the quintessential American habits of being loud and tactless, with appalling manners and an innate dislike for pretension and insincerity, and he says the British all have bad teeth, but I love him just the same. And although Scott might stand out in his appreciation of Fawlty Towers, I really have yet to meet an American who wasn't likable and informed and rational, and (more importantly) firmly predisposed to loathe George W Bush. But then, every American I've met has been a Democrat, and has been outside the United States. I've never met a Republican; maybe they don't travel; apparently only 20% of Americans have passports (they don't need them for Mexico or Canada though). Maybe these facts aren't unrelated... I leave it to you, I certainly wouldn't want to lead you to draw any conclusions.

So back to Tuesday... I had hoped that the overwhelming win for Kerry on globalvote2004 might in some way reflect what would happen in the States, but it was not to be; it seems that even without the eccentric workings of the US Electoral College, Bush won 51% of the popular vote. While I concede that Republicans are entitled to their conservative (i.e. wrong) views, I can't conceive of anyone really thinking that George Bush isn't an idiot of proverbial village quality. How did this remarkable event happen? But still, I don't think 51% of Americans are stupid, I suspect they might just be uninformed: apparently, in 1992, 80% of Americans knew the name of George Bush Snr's dog (Millie), but only 15% knew that he and Bill Clinton both favoured the death penalty. This fact concerns me, and I wonder how important manifestos are in the States. It seems that lots of Americans approve of Bush's "plain-speaking"; I'm thinking you shouldn't confuse honesty with simplicity...

Well, who am I to judge? As one American said, "Do you really think Americans care what you linguini-spined Europeans think about our election?"
Well said!

Thursday, November 11 2004, 18:30

Chewing the literary cud

When Agatha Christie's characters are thinking, or doubtful, or questioning, they might say, "H'm". It's a funny thing, how one writes these little interjections, the last resort of many a desperate Scrabble player, eh? Do you see what I did? Haha. I've been reading a lot of Ms Christie of late - a legacy of Glenn moving to Sydney and abandoning his throwaway novels. I've always been a Poirot fan, but the last one was some awful read featuring two amateur sleuths, Tommy and Tuppence, and I eventually got bored with all the "Gosh, I say, heavens, well really, and I do wish you wouldn't, Lady Beauchamp" and threw it aside in disgust.

My reluctant choice as replacement, was a book of Pete's - a bit of daring since Pete has so much trash fiction, but what I picked up was gold. Now & Then by William Corlett: "Intricately textured, beautifully written and totally compelling" says one reviewer. The book is half in the past, half in the present - the narrative swinging from "now" to "then" and the story continuing in both streams throughout the passage of the book. It really is compelling, since the interlocking of past and present chapters makes for frequent cliffhangers.

The protagonist, Chris, is forced to relive his boyhood memories as his past catches up with him thirty years later; his life between times seems to have been a limbo, and only by reluctantly and uncomfortably digging up his tortured schooldays can he hope to achieve a resolution to the heartache that he's buried and denied (and yet cherished at the same time) all through his adulthood. I found myself both lingering and racing through the book - hanging on the bittersweet recollections of the past, and yet anxious to discover what followed.

The book's so well written, it was all too easy to put myself in Chris' shoes. We've all been lonely at some stage, haven't we? Here's a book to remind you how much people feel. Chris moves through wistful nostalgia, love and lust, frustration, ambivalence, deep-seated anger, hope and bitter disappointment, unrecognised pain; but throughout there persists a kind of numb sadness that Chris uses to keep loneliness at bay... and I've found it hard to forget he's just a character in a book. I've found it impossible to shake off the sadness this book has given me today.

Next up is Bill Bryson's Down Under. I think that should cheer me up ;)

Thursday, November 25 2004, 18:20

December on our doorstep

Life can be so unfair. Ok, last week's flu and tonsillitis was probably due to working hard and playing harder, but I didn't deserve the sight that assailed my eyes this morning. Sitting on the Tube, minding my own business (as everyone does), I was subjected to the sight of a middle aged, sartorially afflicted gent cleaning his ears with his unfeasibly long finger nails. And then closely examining the products of his endeavours. Gross.

But on the plus side, I have my health back, and the excitement of booking my flights to Australia is staving off Seasonal Affliction and Despair. Christmas is just around the corner, and there's tree shopping to be done. How can a boy let the long, dark nights keep him glum when there's so much sparkle in the air?

That's what makes Christmas so special on this sun-starved rock - the daytime is so woefully short (just 8.5 hours at the moment) and the weather so ineffably miserable that we hardy Brits stumble from one drunken mess to another for the entire party month of December in an effort to keep our collective pecker up; glitter and twinkling lights are omnipresent, mistletoe and holly abound, and nowhere can you escape the cherished sounds of "So this is Christmas", "Stop the cavalry", and "I wish it could be Christmas every day" and other festive favourites. Marvellous! :)