The ultimate bleak read? - Steinbeck's 'East of Eden'.

 

I finished it yesterday, a quite hefty 600 pages in my paperback edition.

If you're looking for a disturbing novel, this is the one, no kidding! It's destined to resonate in my mind for days to come, and in no heart-warming way. It's essentially a 'horror' story, though not in any supernatural or extra-natural sense. Always down-to-earth, but dark - oh my, ever so! Hardly one moment of respite, no humour at all - and, despite that, considered as possibly Steinbeck's greatest novel. He himself thought it so. Based, to some extent on his own life and ancestry (though just how much remains veiled one never knows), he inserts himself a few times as narrator though ever at arm's length from the happenings told, without his giving away either how much actually occurred or to what extent the story is his own creation. But I do find his style of writing and his choice of vocabulary extraordinarily fine.

It's a dynastic saga starting about three generations before the then present (it was completed in 1952) and contains hardly any sympathetic characters, though a prominent one is 'Lee', a Chinese manservant, a few times referred to as a 'chink' - so called only in conversations, I think. (Occasionally the 'N-word' is also casually used, as it certainly would have been in the writer's own day). This quietly tolerant and quite amiable 'Lee', the sole, vaguely likeable character, is ever-ready to voice pearls of wisdom which other characters sorely need to heed. 

The story begins in Salinas California towards the end of the 19th century, where and when Steinbeck himself was born - he (thrice married, though so what?) becoming a dreadful, habitual misogynist, by several accounts. Easily the most terrifying person in the novel is one Cathy, with no redemptive features and the mother of male twins, the latter who, at the age of 17, will end this saga towards the end of World War I. I could go on further about this Cathy but it would involve horrific plot spoilers at the heart of this 'jolly' (not!) tale.

I first became acquainted with Steinbeck's works some 30 years ago when I read 'The Grapes of Wrath', and was so knocked out by it that I wished I'd encountered him a lot earlier. Then I read 'Of Mice and Men' which I found almost as impressive - and then, back in 2002, 'East of Eden', which I've noted that I'd 'read', though on second reading finished just now, I didn't recall one single thing about it as being familiar. I can only think that back 20 years ago I'd been so daunted with its length that although I must have read the words they passed by my eyes unregistered, though how I got through so many hundred densely-packed pages in such a manner I can't explain. Anyway, this present time I read the novel with not only full attention but with a number of synopses at hand which I regularly consulted so as not to lose the drift. And it worked marvellously well - even if the final effect on me felt so negative on an emotional level. Nevertheless, and despite its writer's indefensible reputation, I must now concur that 'East of Eden' is a truly great work. 

When I was 10 my mother took me (and, perhaps, two of my as-young brothers) to the cinema to see the then new James Dean film of 'East of Eden', the actor himself having recently been killed in a car crash at the tragically young age of 24. But why she took us to see such an adult story I have no idea, though she almost certainly had no preconceived notion of what the film concerned. Of the film itself I have no recollection whatsoever. I badly want now to see it again. However, the character that Dean plays (as one of the two mutually hostile twins) when the book ends his character is just 17 years old, the actor himself having presumably been 23 when the film was shot. It's not such a big deal now, as such similar inappropriate-age castings have always happened. But with this film, one of Dean's three major iconic roles (along with 'Giant' and 'Rebel Without a Cause'), that remains a somewhat niggling curiosity.

But rather more pertinent is the fact that the character ('Cal') which Dean plays doesn't appear in the novel until two-thirds through, and even then only as a young boy. He only gets to his teenage years until a further near-hundred pages. Additionally, in the list of the film's characters there is no mention of the aforementioned, evil-incarnate 'Cathy', so strategic to the large bulk of the novel.  Clearly the film deals with only a selected smallish extract of the book, possibly having been intended to be mainly a vehicle for Dean.  

In conclusion, then, if you are avid reader and one who hasn't yet encountered this novel, I couldn't urge you too strongly to give it a try. However, be aware that if your reaction is similar to mine, it could well affect you profoundly. A 'pleasant' read, one which you can let gently waft over you, it is not - though an intense, involving and unforgettable experience it could surely be.

Now, though I must tackle more Steinbeck ('Cannery Row' has some strong recommendations) I want to get back to something rather more uplifting. A re-read of 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking-Glass' perhaps? - and try to block out of my mind that particular author's penchant for photographing nude, pre-pubescent girls. Oh dear!......... 

Oh my days! BBC's 'Traitors' now ended. Huge gap left.

 If you're not familiar with this programme's format - though you've almost certainly heard about it - I'll not here lay out details of what the programme is, because if you'd been already interested enough you'll have been watching it.

In my view, justifiably the TV sensation of the last couple of years - with the now just completed series being as maddeningly compulsive viewing as was last year's, leaving me bereft once more now that it's over. We're not even entirely sure there will be another series!

I won't even hint at any spoilers for this year's resulting winner(s?) of the accumulated £95,000 (US $118,000) prize money, nor any indicators as to the others who lost out by being 'murdered' or banished, despite my hoping they'd have gotten further - however, I actually have already laid a tiny clue as to one particular unsuccessful contestant I'd especially favoured. 

After 2023's 'baptism', I couldn't wait the too many months for the BBC to do another, so I watched on iPlayer the American and the Australian first series. And we were told that Australian second series is also now available to watch, so I'll shortly be going there. The American programmes used the same Scottish castle location and its grounds as the two British series did. As emCee/invigilator they had actor and gloriously camp Alan Cumming in the role, though that's not to take anything away from the superbly domineering (and a bit scary) Claudia Winkleman in ours.

This year's progs gripped me every bit as much as last year's though I did get rather more uneasy this time with the occasional increasing bitching between contestants which seemed to get downright nasty now and again - though they always insisted afterwards that in spite of the apparent hostilities they were all still friends. I've no reason to disbelieve them though when the arguments were happening I did sometimes get decidedly uncomfortable.

I wasn't going to do a blog posting on this subject but it's affected me so deeply, so rivetting it was, that I just have to relieve some of the weight from off my chest and get it out there. 

Okay, so now where's Australia Series 2?...........

Disappointed (again) by my favourite radio programme.

 

I've been listening to the weekly 'Desert Island Discs' (on BBC Radio 4) for over 60 years, and have ever found it a most absorbing programme. For those not familiar with its concept (though I have blogged on the subject previously) it's that a well-known personality/celebrity from any field (such as scientist, actor, musician, politician....). and of any nationality, is invited to choose eight tracks of music (not complete albums containing multi-tracks) to take with him/her to a mythical deserted island which will last, potentially, for the remainder of that person's lone life. In addition they may have one book (aside from the Bible and Shakespeare, which are given gratis) and just one single luxury i.e. something inanimate and of no practical value nor anything which increases one's chances of survival. Though since the programme began in 1942 advances in recording techniques have rendered it almost impossible for all the rules to be strictly observed and absolutely consistent throughout - thus complete symphonies/concertos etc are permitted (though one is expected to identify which particular movement or section) but not complete operas (only specific arias, ensemble sections etc), nor complete oratorios, plays etc. Nevertheless the concept remains unchanged - and, after all, it's only just an entertainment, a bit of 'fun'.

Now I was so looking forward to listening to that Wunderkind von unserer Zeit, cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason - still only 24, the third of seven siblings, all talented and variously playing violin, cello and piano, some of them more than one instrument, though at the moment Sheku is the most celebrated, having already appeared at the Last Night of the Proms as well as playing, by royal invitation, at the wedding of Prince William and Kate. (One of Sheku's sisters will shortly be appearing in this town where I live to play a Mozart piano concerto with our local amateur symphony orchestra).

So I was most interested to hear Sheku being interviewed about his eventful life (so far!) interspersed with his eight choices of music. No problem with his music selections, but as to his talking, my God, I could hardly understand a word of it! I have heard him speaking on TV several times, but there at least one can follow lip movements, and besides there's additionally the option of turning on subtitles as well, which, to be honest, I do quite often use in order to get the fullest experience. But on for this radio programme I was lost so much of the time when I was desperately interested in what his answers to the questions about his life would be. What a let-down!

It's by no means the first time I've been disappointed in the same way by this programme. In 2007 the renowned, theatrical (mainly), actor Simon Russell Beale was the guest and that really was the worst I have ever heard for non-comprehension - entirely under-the-breath, semi-whispered mumblings!  I just gave up and switched off. So unexpected from an actor whose very being and livelihood depends on his words being heard and understood. I can only think that when some of them are in a broadcasting studio with a microphone under their very noses, they assume that every vocal sound they make will be picked up clearly. Well, it's not so!

Another disgraceful mutterer is the lavishly over-praised Sir Ian McKellan, though only when talking 'normally'. I've seen him live on stage several times and there he can project when called to, though hardly ever elsewhere. I used to have a video of that 'Othello' production of a few decades ago, with a superb interpretation of the title role given by opera singer Willard White, whose every word was as clear as a bell - even though he'd never acted in a 'straight' play before, having only appeared in sung operatic roles. However, for me, McKellan as the villainous Iago (actually given more lines than Othello himself!) let down the entire production with his shamefully mumbled deliveries, so unfair to the rest of the cast. I chucked the video away!

I cannot claim that my hearing is anything like perfect. At my age it would be absurd and a complete lie. There must be some deterioration, even if I'm not aware of any significant loss in my everyday life. But when I don't catch something on the radio (and I'm very much a lifelong radio addict) it does bring me up sharp - though it doesn't really happen that often.

So as to Sheku's D.I.D, I'll give it another shot on BBC iPlayer, but I really shouldn't have to be doing this. 

Slow hand-clap, Sheku - and, please no encore! 

First Happy NY kiss on TV from NY - draws anger and hate.

 

As I usually do early on New Year's Day, at 5 a.m (our time) I tuned in to watch Sky News TV broadcast from New York's Times Square to catch their celebrations - with the obligatory relaying of 'Ol' Blue Eyes' belting out "Start spreadin' the Noos....." Great stuff! But at the climax moment I was very pleasantly and very surprised to see the first visual kiss of 2024 being a gay one - and the camera lingered. When it was over my considered reaction was "Surely not! I must have been mistaken." and then thought little more of it - that is until this morning when I read that there's been oh-so-predictable outrage in certain American circles. (Oh, the horror of it!) The decision to show the two men physically bonded together in osculation must have been decided in advance. It's hard not to think otherwise. There was no quick change to a camera shot showing the kissing of what would be deemed a more 'acceptable' M-F couple. I think what we saw lasted at least 20 secs, possibly half-a-minute, before it turned to other similarly affectionately embracing couples. And what makes this particular first couple even worse (if that is possible!) is that this at least one of this pair seemed to be - God help us! - of mixed race!  Will there be an inquest as to how on Earth this got through? I don't see why there should be though doubtless there'll already be clamours for one.

The pictures were broadcast on CNN and ABC amongst others - and it seems Sky News used the same source. I'm only sorry that after it was over I was quick to dismiss my observation as having likely been mistaken. Now that I know for sure that I wasn't wrong I can only see it as very welcome progress. And I'm equally happy that many countries around the world will also have taken the same broadcast, no doubt causing a flurry of panic in those many countries where such images give rise to imprisonment - or even far worse. Russia maybe? - though certainly not on the 'official' Kremlin (= Putin) -controlled, anti-American channels. Would surely have given Pres. Putrid a heart attack, though I trust it wouldn't have been terminal as I'd dearly love his royal highness to live long enough to be a centenarian - though totally incapacitated, unable to move, speak, even indicate what he wants - poor chap! And fancy being the one who's delegated to changing his nappy every few hours! (Tee hee!) Must be at least as bad as having to change BLOTUS'.......erm, diaper - if it's not being done already - maybe by Rudy Giulie? But I digress. (Got a bit carried away with my hopes for the coming year). 

Anyway, to return to the subject in hand........

I haven't seen in a real-live New Year since 1990. Always been alone since then, retiring around my usual time of between 8 and 9 p.m. but inevitably woken up by the sound of fireworks. When they began I checked on the cats and found each, as expected, cowering in wide-eyed terror - one under the bed, another in a cupboard, and a third at the bottom of the stairs, where it's darkest. And they don't move until they're sure, or hope, it's all over, though the odd errant distant bang or pop sends them scurrying back to their hidey places again. 

The last New Year 'seeing-in' that I experienced and mentioned above, was 1990 in Amsterdam. In those years I had an annual routine of being at the critical time in the 'Eagle' leather bar (near the Royal Palace and on the edge of the red light district) where, at midnight, ABBA's track of 'Happy New Year' was always played to announce the arrival of the magic moment - interrupting the various intercourses or mutual consensual fumblings going on in the (purposely) dark spaces and toilets, though it probably made no difference to those already engaged and busy in such!  😄

Anyway, here's wishing my handful of blogpals (of whom I feel ever so privileged to have, every single one of you) all the very best for 2024, including all the money that you need - plus a bit more - and most important of all good and ruddy health to all of you! Cheers!!!!

                    --------------------------------------------

(Added later - 5 Jan).........

This couple's comments on the anti-gay reaction to their televised kiss here...........

https://www.thepinknews.com/2024/01/04/cnn-new-years-gay-kiss-reaction/

Happy b/day to me! (Sun. 15th)

 

Yes, we've reached all the sevens! Can hardly believe it myself even if sometimes feeling it with increasing regularity.

Regret still unable to post any new photos, so profile pic is now two years old. Imagine still sparser hair on top and a few more furrows on the physiognomy below it. 

 

Incidentally, is anyone else also old enough to remember the TV series of L.A. private detectives, '77 Sunset Strip' (1958-64) - [fingers click twice!] - launched to much hoop-la at the time, though hardly ever mentioned since? ("Kookie, Kookie, lend me your comb!")

 

Really nothing more to say - so that's all for now. Heigh-ho! (sigh) 😉

'Graham Norton Show' last night. What a treat!

I do quite like Graham Norton, but as his show (new series starting yesterday) is always on telly at way past my bedtime, I only follow it up, if at all, by watching excerpts of any particular names who get my attention, and that's quite rare as most weeks I can't be bothered. But I tuned in to catch-up this morning because I'd read that one particular person was appearing. 

I've had the 'hots' for a certain actor ever since he first started appearing in films some 20 years ago - and it's (shhhhhhhhh!)..........one Stephen Graham! I don't know why he presses my buttons but he sure does - and it's so intense that he gives me head to toe tingles, and more than ever when he smiles. Mind you, at his 50 years, I'm more than old enough myself to be his dad, so it'll have to remain yet another unfulfillable fantasy. However, he was darned good on the sofa last night talking easily, amongst other things, about a new TV serial 'Boiling Point' set mostly in the  kitchens of a rather chi-chi restaurant, in which he is part of an ensemble cast including, incidentally, his real-life wife. I've got to give it a wee peep, at least.

So, with Stephen G. as an 'appetiser', I've just watched the entire 50 minutes of this Graham Norton Show, the first time I've done so in years!

 

Other guests last night included comedian/actor David Mitchell  - no, not his namesake, author of the stunning 'Cloud Atlas'. This David M. is one I've also liked for even more decades than Stephen G., though emphatically not in the same way! He wears his considerable intellect very lightly, never arrogantly. He appeared last night because he's just had his book come out which is a warts-and-all telling (particularly the former) of England's (and later, Britain's) monarchs right way back from the start, which sounds very engrossing and entertaining - even likely amusing, given the passage of time since.

I always like to go through his ever-so-readable periodic contributions in the Sunday 'Observer'. There are so many topically significant articles from a number of contributors in that newspaper that I regretfully have to skim-read some of them, but David's features are invariably a real joy to read in full, articles which need to be given the time and effort  they absolutely deserve. 

Then there was also a new name to me, Mawaan Rizwan, who just has a new, apparently surreal-ish comedy starting called 'Juice' in which he plays one half of a gay couple. I'll be giving that a look-in too. It's the first I've heard of this guy but, my goodness, he looks one hell of a head-turner - beard 'n all! He sure is easy on both the eye and ear, and good fun with it! I've just looked up his details and find he's 31, so if I'm not quite a cradle-snatcher for him (beard notwithstanding!) I'm certainly advanced enough to be his gramps!

Then there was the divine goddess herself (trumpets please!) .......'KYLIE'!, shortly to take up a season performing in Las Vegas. She didn't sing at all this time, just easily and relaxed-ly answering Graham's questions and joining in all the conversations. She actually never has to sing. For me, and many others I've no doubt, her just being there is more than sufficient. Lovely stuff!

The show closed with this year's U.K. Eurovision singer, Mae Muller (who'd finished second from last! - which she didn't deserve) singing her new release, a number which to me appealed on this my only hearing - so far. 

A most fine show, this. Must try and keep up with more of the series. Even if any are just half as enjoyable as this one was, it'll be grand.

World-renowned 'classic' writers whom I've never 'got'.

 Although there are more than three, there is a certain highly prominent trio of widely famed authors of the past, each of whom disconcertingly enjoys a most significant reputation and a large and ultra-serious band of defenders, admirers and disciples. I've tried repeatedly to understand why it is that I've never been able to get into them, yet the reason still evades me. While attempting to read and become engrossed by their novels my mind wanders away so far that I'm very soon merely reading pages upon pages of words which fail to penetrate my consciousness at all, until I'm suddenly aware of the futility of the exercise.  

1. Rudyard Kipling

I cannot comprehend why this man is so revered - above all for his children's stories, which I find dense and obscure - and boy oh boy, how I've tried! Even his most famous of all, 'The Jungle Book' (both 'Jungle Books' actually), I find indigestible, completely lacking the welcome lightness of touch which Disney brought to his cartoon (helped, of course by some awfully good songs). 

I've identical feelings towards all the 'Just So' stories. Right now I'm currently ploughing through 'Stalky & Co' and what a joyless slog it is! It's my very first attempt at this one, though I have read the aforementioned novels at least twice each. Apparently 'Stalky' is about a misbehaving group of (public)schoolboys getting up to various japes often involving their teachers or other members of the public as victims. It seems one is supposed to be entertained, even amused, by their antics but I'm finding it so hard to follow that it's leaving me cold and unmoved. But got to persevere, even though when I'm through I simply know now that I'll hardly recall any of it.

I've also read the entirety of the man's poetry, all 800+ pages of it. I have to say that most of it is rather more accessible than his stories, but that's probably because they are largely in more digestible, mostly shortish lumps.  (Btw: Some years ago a BBC national poll revealed that his poem 'If' was voted here as being the best regarded poem of all in the English language - and I wouldn't disagree that it at least is pretty good). 

2. Joseph Conrad

Have to confess that it's quite a few years since I last tried to assail this, for me, highly problematic writer - among whose works are 'Nostromo' ,'Lord Jim' and, his most celebrated of all, 'Heart of Darkness'. I'm not even sure that I managed to get right through any of them, his style of writing being maddeningly circuitous. A lot of admiration towards him is engendered by the fact that English was only his second language (after Polish) so it's undoubtedly some sort of achievement, though for me therein lies the problem. I could never get onto his 'wavelength'. If his thoughts were lucid, and I can't argue that they weren't, then to my mind they didn't translate successfully into the written word. He's definitely another author who gets my mind wandering off to unrelated, more captivating, subjects - though I would like to have another bash at 'Hearts of Darkness' before it's too late.

3. Sir Walter Scott

I get the impression, perhaps mistakenly, that this writer is particularly well regarded by non-English readers, presumably translated into whatever language is appropriate - though how translations cope with his terribly tiresome phonetic attempts at mimicking the Scottish accents through odd, unfamiliar spellings I just don't know, a technique which, whoever the writer or the accent replicated, slows one's reading down disastrously till, I at least, want to say "Oh, stuff it! I can do without this tortuous effort to work out what they mean!" 'Ivanhoe', 'Rob Roy' and 'Kidnapped' are some of his works I've tried to rise to, but I think it's only the last of these I managed to get to the end of - and that with one huge sigh of relief - and then craving for something requiring less effort to read. Mind you, like for Kipling, some of Scott's poems aren't at all bad - so long as it's not those in which he's trying to ape the Scottish accent in writing.

I could mention more writers - P.G.Wodehouse is just another who goes right over my head despite his being so adulated by many of far greater intelligence than I can boast, although he's considered by many to be the ultimate 'light-hearted' and 'gentlemanly' writer in English - but I've got to stop somewhere.

Oh, and I'm aware that I've not mentioned any female writers, though shamefully, it did take me some time to acclimatise myself to Jane Austen. Now she's no longer a 'problem' writer, thank goodness.

But never say never! If I'd written this post, say, 50 years ago, my top three 'unreadables' would quite likely have been Henry James, Thomas Hardy and............yes, even Dickens himself. However, through persistence, I gradually came to love each if them in turn. In fact all three would now doubtlessly feature in my Top 10 favourite writers of all. So one can change if one really wills it.  I merely want to experience those same admirations which other people feel, otherwise I sense missing out on something of significant worth.

Do you have any particularly 'difficult' writers? I'd love to hear some names.