Theater:
What the Butler Saw, Zebra Crossing Productions: A British farce with some genuinely laugh out loud moments, but ultimately disappointing due to suspect direction and a lack of cohesion among the cast members. Vernetta Lopez stood out, though Elizabeth Tan looked out of depth, and Gerald Chew was far too self indulgent in the lead. Some attempts at localizing the play worked (like turning a typical British bobby into a khaki wearing local policeman who kept saying "yes sirs, how can I help you sirs?", but others were often lame, and fell pretty flat. Quite a fair bit of the play was lost in translation. Overall, fairly disappointing. Grade: D+
Story of a Rabbit, Hugh Hughes: A very interesting one man show by a wonderfully engaging and charming Welshman. I loved the interaction with the audience, and the way Hugh could move from the comic and funny to the deeply introspective without missing much of a beat. Oddball and never less than interesting, this is compelling autobiography and avant garde theater that is engaging rather than pretentious. Karin got a free cup of tea to boot. Grade: B+
Much Ado About Nothing, Singapore Repertory Theater (Shakespeare in the Park): Two of Shakespeare's sassiest characters brought to life with real verve and flair by the ever excellent Adrian Pang (in comedy roles) and the wonderful Wendy Kueh. A slightly more uneven supporting cast, but a beautiful 1920s set and costumes, and good production values made this a lovely (but quite muggy) evening out. Or maybe it was just the half bottle of wine I consumed when watching it. Grade: B+The Cherry Orchard, Lin Zhaohua Studios (Singapore Arts Festival): Chekhov done entirely in mandarin was a better fit than might be expected. Certainly, the themes of a gilded landed aristocracy being supplanted by the proletariat is relevant enough to a Chinese theater company. The largely bare stage and minimalist overtones suited Chekhov nicely and the acting and direction was fairly spot on for the most part, barring a few strange moments (actors freezing when a rising scale of musical notes suddenly stops surely belongs in the worst tradition of farcical sneak thief movies). My only gripe: the subtitles were clearly truncated and often couldn't keep pace with the dialogue, compromising the subtle grandeur of Chekhov's writing. Grade: B-
Own Time Own Target, Wild Rice: The army and national service continues to provide fertile creative inspiration for local playwrights and this double bill of a play and musical is a very welcome addition. Laremy Lee's Full Tank is an uninhibited satire of the army what with golf club wielding generals, clueless privates, and a long suffering sergeant. Mayhem ensues when a tank crew goes on a joyride, while a terror suspect manages to escape from a prison (Mas Selamat anyone?). Botak Boys, as it's title suggests follows the experiences of a group of young men during their first two weeks of basic military training (BMT). It features some catchy tunes, and outrageously camp costumes, and it fairly good fun, if a bit twee and sentimental for my liking. The 'good cop bad cop' routine of the two BMT sergeants, with the short one prone to pontificating endlessly and the tall one limited to strutting about going 'chao recruit', and 'chee bai' was so true to life it had me in stitches. Grade: B
Defending the Caveman, Singapore Repertory Theater: This one man show was stand up comedy masquerading as theater. It did have its funny moments, but the material was far too unoriginal and well-worn to make for an interesting performance. I mean, men as hunters and women as gatherers, who would have ever come up with that original idea! There were appropriate chuckles for quips about how women can't read maps and how male bonding is restricted to grunting and staring at the telly, but this amounted to nothing more than a re-hash of complaints you've probably shared with friends over a pint of beer at the pub. Grade: D+
Hamlet: the Clown Prince, Rajat Kapoor (Director): Hamlet, as performed by a troupe of clowns turned out to be a fascinating mix of farce and pathos. The performance was compelling, right from its bizarre five minute opening featuring a spot-lit Hamlet going on a long monologue in gibberish right till the end. There was an ample variety of humour from moonwalks, and hilariously over-the-top accents, to a drunken actress depositing a handkerchief with an audience member as a sign of affection. What truly merited praise was the ability the actors had in switching from slapstick humour to the seriousness and pathos of scenes such as Ophelia's suicide, all within an instant. An original idea that was wonderfully executed. Grade: A-
Concerts:Eliane Elias and Ivan Lins: Think Brazilians and you immediately think of the smooth laid back groove of bossa nova, or the playful sexiness of the samba. Smooth sexiness was definitely evident with Eliane Elias, with her blonde bombshell looks. Elias was sultry but definitely not cold, striking up an easy rapport with the crowd between takes, giving background to the songs, and personal anecdotes, including an extended account of a holiday in Northern Brazil. Her languid contra-alto and smooth piano playing helped her to epitomize the bossa nova vibe. Ivan Lins, for all his reknown talent as a songwriter, didn't quite have the voice, the presence, the personality, or the looks to match. His songs were fairly repetetive in sound and people soon become restless. It said a lot about his character and resolve that he remained fairly charming even as a fair number of people in the audience began walking out, but he just didn't have the verve to charm the crowd and his quirkiness rather fell flat. Grade: Eliane Elias B Ivan Lins D-
Sondre Lerche
Coldplay: The popularity of Coldplay could be seen in how tickets for the concert sold out within days, if not hours. Although I hardly listened to their later two albums X&Y, and Viva La Vida, I jumped at the chance to see Coldplay perform live. The atmosphere was certainly electric, from the entire crowd singing along to their signature song "Yellow" (complete with yellow spot lights), to the repeated chanting of the main chords of the chorus from Viva La Vida to urge the band to come back for an encore. For all the technical baubles (disco ball screens), dropping balloons, Chris Martin's charisma was what electrified the evening, and we even got a chance to see Will Champion sing a little. A brilliantly fun concert. Grade: A-
Joanna MacGregor: MacGregor certainly cuts a fascinating figure, classically trained pianists don't usually come with dread-lock hair. Reknown for her eclectic repertoire, this variety was most definitely on show in her solo recital. The first half consisted of her alternating Preludes and Fugues by Bach and Shostakovitch a blend of baroque and modern that was illuminating rather than discordant due to her fine artistic touch. It was in the second half where she really was in her element, cutting loose on a number of Latin American pieces most notably six Tangos (transcribed by her for the piano) written by Argentinian composer Piazzola. Her dynamic range and versatility certainly shone through in a fine concert; thoughtful comments on the music she was playing was an added bonus. An excellent recital. Grade: A-
Nikolai Demidenko
Li Yundi: For once, the Straits Times got this one perfectly right. The headline of their review of this concert was 'shockingly bad' and it truly was. I had very high expectations of Li Yundi, a teen prodigy who won the extremely prestigious Warsaw Chopin competition at just 19 years of age. His rendition of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 was disjointed, replete with wrong notes, and totally lacking in subtlety and grace. It often felt as if he were just banging the piano, and he was woefully out of sync with the orchestra (for once I am not blaming the SSO). This was piano playing not dissimilar to Sunday evening entertainment in the parlour. He even managed to mangle his encore piece. Grade: F
King's College Choir
Amanda Palmer, Live@Stereolab: I had little familiarity with Amanda Palmer's music and I knew her only as the new beau of Neil Gaiman, noted graphic novelist and all round genius. Indeed, she was in Singapore to accompany Neil who was here was part of the Singapore Writer's Festival. While in town she decided to do a last minute gig at Stereolab, and I decided to go after a friend described her as "Tori Amos high on speed" and the self-styled depiction of her former group, The Dresden Dolls, as performing "Brechtian punk cabaret". Palmer definitely had a wonderful stage presence, providing easy banter with the crowd, even when occasionally mangling or losing her place in the middle of songs. A classic moment was in the middle of her signature song "Coin Operated Boy", when an audience member completed the line "I need..." with the emphatic shout of "a dildo". Amanda's quick witted retort was that "everyone thinks the song is about dildos when it was actually about emotions and relationships and commitment and all that fucked up serious shit". Her most compelling and interesting songs were those from her earlier work with The Dresden Dolls, as well as two fascinating little known covers of "I Want You But I Don't Need You" and "Look Mommy No Hands", weirder was her rendition of Radiohead's "Creep" on ukelele. Her newer songs, even "I Google You", co-written by Gaiman, were dull in comparison. Still, a fun vibrant gig. Grade: B
Vienna Boy's Choir: The little boys with the angelic voices are back in Singapore yet again. This time they did a fairly interesting Silk Road repertoire with a whole range of music from China, to India to Central Asia. The voices were indeed heavenly and the boys also managed a few laughs with their use of random props, the choicest of which was two of them dressing up as a camel. All rather theatrical and detracting somewhat from the singing. But on the whole, they were rather irresistible Grade: B.
Count Basie Orchestra: It's not often you get old school big bands plying their trade anymore. Given my love of swing, I just had to go to one of the most famous big band jazz orchestras. The band played a number of the classic standards, obviously a number from the Count himself but other tidbits from the full range of the classic big band repertoire (including some from the Duke). The group was led (conducted would be far too generous) by a genial laid back old gentleman who often had to ask the band members about what they were next going to play. A nice swinging time overall. Grade: B+
30 December 2009
18 December 2009
Best Movies of the Decade (Top 25)
Here I have attempted to distill a list of my favourite 25 movies released this decade. They aren't necessarily the movies I think will be the most influential in the years to come, nor are they necessarily the most critically acclaimed. What they do represent is quite simply movies I would definitely want to watch again, movies that I found hugely enjoyable or thought provoking. Movies that somehow lingered with me, and will continue to linger still:
Near Misses: Star Trek, Amelie, Gosford Park, The Wind that Shakes the Barley, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Minority Report, The Constant Gardener, The Queen, Borat, Finding Nemo, Million Dollar Baby, Once, Closer, Lost in Translation, The Wrestler, Spring Summer Autumn Winter Spring, Revolutionary Road, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, Casino Royale, No Country for Old Men, Man on Wire, Bowling for Colombine, Match Point,
Acclaimed Films I Haven't Seen: The Royal Tenenbaums, Four Months Three Years and Two Days, Hurt Locker, United 93, Mulholland Dr., Knocked Up, A History of Violence, Mystic River
- The Lord of the Ring trilogy
- Pan's Labyrinth
- The Lives of Others
- City of God
- Dogville
- Y Tu Mama Tambien
- Kill Bill (Vol. 1 and 2)
- There Will Be Blood
- The Dark Knight
- Wall-E
- Before Sunset
- Atonement
- Milk
- Brokeback Mountain
- The Dreamers
- Michael Clayton
- Sin City
- Sideways
- Good Night and Good Luck
- Avatar
- Downfall
- Memento
- The Incredibles
- Spirited Away
- The Pianist
Near Misses: Star Trek, Amelie, Gosford Park, The Wind that Shakes the Barley, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Minority Report, The Constant Gardener, The Queen, Borat, Finding Nemo, Million Dollar Baby, Once, Closer, Lost in Translation, The Wrestler, Spring Summer Autumn Winter Spring, Revolutionary Road, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, Casino Royale, No Country for Old Men, Man on Wire, Bowling for Colombine, Match Point,
Acclaimed Films I Haven't Seen: The Royal Tenenbaums, Four Months Three Years and Two Days, Hurt Locker, United 93, Mulholland Dr., Knocked Up, A History of Violence, Mystic River
6 December 2009
Computer Gaming Madness
Much of the first week of the holidays has been taken up by two computer games that I recently purchased. The first, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 is an excellent first person shooter, and a sequel to the previous Modern Warfare game. The second, Dragon Age Origins is a classic fantasy role playing game.
Before Modern Warfare 2 was released, I decided to play through the original Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, at a slightly higher difficulty level for a greater challenge. It underlined yet again how the Call of Duty franchise had really raised the bar for first person shooters. You take on the role of both Soap MacTavish, a new recruit to the elite Special Air Service (SAS), and as Sgt. Jackson of the US Marine Corp. In the Call of Duty games you truly get a strong sense of what it feels like to be 'under fire'. The system of not having a health meter, but having the screen darken as you taken repeated hits (thus limiting your ability to fight back) makes you instinctively try and duck for cover, or for those foolish enough not to, die. This innovation is carried over to Modern Warfare 2, as is the lack of your ability to save the game at any desired point, meaning that you have to survive till specific checkpoints or replay that section.
Call of Duty 2 extends the sheer turmoil and exhilaration of combat that was present in the original, and adds multiple new and fascinating settings and perspectives. In this game you are another young recruit this time mentored by Soap who is now a captain in the SAS. It would be hard to top the original which included the detonation of a nuclear device, a stage where you are a sniper in a ghillie suit stalking through an abandoned city near the former Chernobyl nuclear reactor, and you even get to take the perspective of an aerial bomber providing air support to ground troops. Call of Duty 2 does manage to top this though- you get to try your hand at driving a snow mobile, you have to negotiate a cliff face with ice axes, and in one exhilarating sequence you are a gunner on an armoured vehicle racing through the streets of a Middle Eastern city while taking fire from all directions. The settings are diverse and novel - from a slum in Rio, to an oil derrick used to host SAM sites, to a prison near Vladivostock, even to several levels in suburban America. There is also a stage which is bound to attract enormous controversy where you play an American soldier that infiltrates a Russian terrorist cell, and which involves you taking the role of terrorists shooting up an entire airport full of innocent civilians.
There are several drawbacks to the game despite the intense combat experience, the excellent gameplay, the creative settings, and the generally effective AI. First of all, it is expensive. At $75 it is a good $20 more expensive than a normal computer game. I would have less of an issue with it, given its quality, were it not for the fact that it was also disappointingly short. I finished the game in around 10 hours on the advanced difficulty setting. An average gamer could complete it in 6-7 hours on normal difficulty. After you complete the main campaign there is an additional section that you can tackle called "Special Ops" which takes specific elements from the game (evading capture in a forest, snowmobile races, breaching and clearing rooms, surviving a wave of enemy attacks) and you earn between one and three stars by completing these set tasks at higher difficulty levels. That can't disguise the fact that the single player campaign is a bit skimpy.
Another surprising drawback was that the Call of Duty 2 plot ended up far less coherent and structured than the original's which basically involved you hunting down the Russian ultra nationalist Imran Zakhaev. The storyline got downright messy towards the end of Modern Warfare 2, and the motivation behind a crucial plot twist was never really sufficiently explained beyond some bombastic and overly cliched voice-over dialogue between missions. As someone who hardly utilizes the multiplayer component of these games paying such a hefty price for a short campaign was definitely poor value for money. But Call of Duty does provide fantastic thrills and a powerful gaming experience.
Far, far more time was spent playing Dragon Age: Origins. The developers behind the excellent Mass Effect has created a more traditional fantasy role playing game this time around, creating an enormous world to explore complete with its own back story, mythology, political dynamics and much else besides. Incredibly enough, the game even provides multiple back stories to start with, depending on the background and race of your character, with five separate 'origin' quests as a result, all culminating with your recruitment into the Grey Wardens, a group of reknown fighters committed to battling the evil threat of the Dark Spawn. The game is immensely complex, and it is easy to be completely lost in the rich tapestry of this fully realized world. From recruiting and interacting with a multitude of non-playing characters to multiple dialogue options, alternate paths and endings, the game is huge in every sense of the word.
It is also fairly difficult unless you've played through a number of role playing games, particularly the combat elements. For much of the game you will be involved in combat with three other members of your party, and it is essential to have a balance between warrior type melee combatants and ranged characters such as rogues mastering the bow and arrow skill or mages. What I disliked was the necessity to micromanage combat - you had to set out clear instructions in the tactics screen and even then you still had to pause combat repeatedly to control individual characters. The tactics menu also had drawbacks. For example I found it hard to program a mage to cast an area effect spell on a group of enemies far away - or at least to do so effectively. Often, the only way was to pause the game and take control of the character yourself.
The advantage of combat switching was that even if your main character is of a particular class - such as a mage - you can taste combat in all the various roles by playing as an accompanying character for the duration of any particular combat. In the end, I left the game at the easy difficulty setting, minimizing the amount of micro-managing I had to do, and also because I wanted to explore dialogue and character options to a greater degree. I would have preferred a more fluid combat system needing less pausing and tactical development, though.
On the whole, Dragon Age was a hugely addictive and immensely entertaining game. I spent the better part of 25 hours of direct gameplay and I still failed to finish all the various side quests and sub plots, let alone read through the immense codex outlining the history, mythology, and back story that you accumulate as you proceed in your quest. It is a superb buy but only if you are willing to jeopardize your social life for a number of weekends, not to mention risk having your significant other severely annoyed at you for neglecting them! I can't wait for the inevitable sequel that surely must follow, and indeed, for Mass Effect 2, slated for release in April 2010.
Before Modern Warfare 2 was released, I decided to play through the original Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, at a slightly higher difficulty level for a greater challenge. It underlined yet again how the Call of Duty franchise had really raised the bar for first person shooters. You take on the role of both Soap MacTavish, a new recruit to the elite Special Air Service (SAS), and as Sgt. Jackson of the US Marine Corp. In the Call of Duty games you truly get a strong sense of what it feels like to be 'under fire'. The system of not having a health meter, but having the screen darken as you taken repeated hits (thus limiting your ability to fight back) makes you instinctively try and duck for cover, or for those foolish enough not to, die. This innovation is carried over to Modern Warfare 2, as is the lack of your ability to save the game at any desired point, meaning that you have to survive till specific checkpoints or replay that section.
Call of Duty 2 extends the sheer turmoil and exhilaration of combat that was present in the original, and adds multiple new and fascinating settings and perspectives. In this game you are another young recruit this time mentored by Soap who is now a captain in the SAS. It would be hard to top the original which included the detonation of a nuclear device, a stage where you are a sniper in a ghillie suit stalking through an abandoned city near the former Chernobyl nuclear reactor, and you even get to take the perspective of an aerial bomber providing air support to ground troops. Call of Duty 2 does manage to top this though- you get to try your hand at driving a snow mobile, you have to negotiate a cliff face with ice axes, and in one exhilarating sequence you are a gunner on an armoured vehicle racing through the streets of a Middle Eastern city while taking fire from all directions. The settings are diverse and novel - from a slum in Rio, to an oil derrick used to host SAM sites, to a prison near Vladivostock, even to several levels in suburban America. There is also a stage which is bound to attract enormous controversy where you play an American soldier that infiltrates a Russian terrorist cell, and which involves you taking the role of terrorists shooting up an entire airport full of innocent civilians.
There are several drawbacks to the game despite the intense combat experience, the excellent gameplay, the creative settings, and the generally effective AI. First of all, it is expensive. At $75 it is a good $20 more expensive than a normal computer game. I would have less of an issue with it, given its quality, were it not for the fact that it was also disappointingly short. I finished the game in around 10 hours on the advanced difficulty setting. An average gamer could complete it in 6-7 hours on normal difficulty. After you complete the main campaign there is an additional section that you can tackle called "Special Ops" which takes specific elements from the game (evading capture in a forest, snowmobile races, breaching and clearing rooms, surviving a wave of enemy attacks) and you earn between one and three stars by completing these set tasks at higher difficulty levels. That can't disguise the fact that the single player campaign is a bit skimpy.
Another surprising drawback was that the Call of Duty 2 plot ended up far less coherent and structured than the original's which basically involved you hunting down the Russian ultra nationalist Imran Zakhaev. The storyline got downright messy towards the end of Modern Warfare 2, and the motivation behind a crucial plot twist was never really sufficiently explained beyond some bombastic and overly cliched voice-over dialogue between missions. As someone who hardly utilizes the multiplayer component of these games paying such a hefty price for a short campaign was definitely poor value for money. But Call of Duty does provide fantastic thrills and a powerful gaming experience.
Far, far more time was spent playing Dragon Age: Origins. The developers behind the excellent Mass Effect has created a more traditional fantasy role playing game this time around, creating an enormous world to explore complete with its own back story, mythology, political dynamics and much else besides. Incredibly enough, the game even provides multiple back stories to start with, depending on the background and race of your character, with five separate 'origin' quests as a result, all culminating with your recruitment into the Grey Wardens, a group of reknown fighters committed to battling the evil threat of the Dark Spawn. The game is immensely complex, and it is easy to be completely lost in the rich tapestry of this fully realized world. From recruiting and interacting with a multitude of non-playing characters to multiple dialogue options, alternate paths and endings, the game is huge in every sense of the word.
It is also fairly difficult unless you've played through a number of role playing games, particularly the combat elements. For much of the game you will be involved in combat with three other members of your party, and it is essential to have a balance between warrior type melee combatants and ranged characters such as rogues mastering the bow and arrow skill or mages. What I disliked was the necessity to micromanage combat - you had to set out clear instructions in the tactics screen and even then you still had to pause combat repeatedly to control individual characters. The tactics menu also had drawbacks. For example I found it hard to program a mage to cast an area effect spell on a group of enemies far away - or at least to do so effectively. Often, the only way was to pause the game and take control of the character yourself.
The advantage of combat switching was that even if your main character is of a particular class - such as a mage - you can taste combat in all the various roles by playing as an accompanying character for the duration of any particular combat. In the end, I left the game at the easy difficulty setting, minimizing the amount of micro-managing I had to do, and also because I wanted to explore dialogue and character options to a greater degree. I would have preferred a more fluid combat system needing less pausing and tactical development, though.
On the whole, Dragon Age was a hugely addictive and immensely entertaining game. I spent the better part of 25 hours of direct gameplay and I still failed to finish all the various side quests and sub plots, let alone read through the immense codex outlining the history, mythology, and back story that you accumulate as you proceed in your quest. It is a superb buy but only if you are willing to jeopardize your social life for a number of weekends, not to mention risk having your significant other severely annoyed at you for neglecting them! I can't wait for the inevitable sequel that surely must follow, and indeed, for Mass Effect 2, slated for release in April 2010.
26 November 2009
My Film Highlights of 2009
The year is not quite done, but I've decided to do a short run through of the best (and worst) movies I've seen in 2009.
Best Movie seen in the Cinema: To date, I have seen 40 movies in the cinema this year. If I go a December movie binge I might just bring the total to around one a week. There were many quite wonderful films - the brutal rawness of The Wrestler, the emotionally heart wrenching (some would say manipulative) yet also quietly funny Departures, the wonderfully adapted 1960s take on suburban unhappiness that is Revolutionary Road, the delightful Up! and the thought provoking and just generally provocative Waltz with Bashir, and the list goes on.
Two movies stood out for me, though. For sheer pure enjoyment, nothing quite beat J.J Abrams Star Trek. It managed to both pay homage to and reinvent and revitalize an old franchise, but more importantly it was just a tremendous blend of wonderfully good humour and great action. Sean Penn rightfully won the Best Actor Oscar for a chameleon like portrayal of Harvey Milk - Milk, in my opinion deserved the Best Picture Award as well. I was supposed to choose between them, but I honestly can't, so I'll fudge and pick both.
Best Movie Seen (Other Media): This was truly impossible to decide. How could I possibly choose, when I saw A Man For All Seasons, The Lion in Winter, The Third Man and The Hustler on DVD? All of them are classic films that are deservedly great. How to choose between Paul Schofield's tremendous portrayal of Thomas More as a man of conscience (A Man for All Seasons) or Paul Newman's immensely charismatic yet complex pool shark (The Hustler), not to mention a classic film Noir in The Third Man complete with a Orson Welles cameo. That's to discount Bernado Bertolluci's tremendously influential Last Tango in Paris with an unforgettable performance by Brando which I also saw for the first time this year. All brilliant movies which I would definitely watch again.
Worst Movie Seen (Any Media): Hollywood continues to churn out fairly bad, testosterone fueled action movies which ensures that Michael Bay will always have a job. While the first Transformers movie was fairly successful (mainly by not taking itself too seriously), the second one was bloated, overcooked and excessively long that took itself far too seriously. It was also not helped but some fairly bad acting (Sam's dad going "I don't wanna lose you" in such a terribly fake way in the middle of a war zone being the icing on the cake). New Moon was turgid and often excruciating. I found it impossible to overlook the often terrible lines such as "all you have to do is breath" [to make me happy], or "Bella, you're everything to me" (okay, I'll be honest and admit those aren't the exact lines, but rough paraphrases, but you get the idea!).
Occasionally I also feel the odd compulsion to watch a bad, generally brainless action movie without any plot. Thus, the abysmal Elecktra and the rather dull Fantastic Four. Oh, and I also did pay to watch Street Fighter: Legend of Chun Li in the cinemas, but that had Kristin Kreuk in it, and a local Singapore actor!
Addendum: Avatar did indeed turn out to be a spectacular movie which made my Top 25 list of the decade (as did Milk) while Star Trek missed out in that regard. So I guess Avatar and Milk are my best of 2009.
Best Movie seen in the Cinema: To date, I have seen 40 movies in the cinema this year. If I go a December movie binge I might just bring the total to around one a week. There were many quite wonderful films - the brutal rawness of The Wrestler, the emotionally heart wrenching (some would say manipulative) yet also quietly funny Departures, the wonderfully adapted 1960s take on suburban unhappiness that is Revolutionary Road, the delightful Up! and the thought provoking and just generally provocative Waltz with Bashir, and the list goes on.
Two movies stood out for me, though. For sheer pure enjoyment, nothing quite beat J.J Abrams Star Trek. It managed to both pay homage to and reinvent and revitalize an old franchise, but more importantly it was just a tremendous blend of wonderfully good humour and great action. Sean Penn rightfully won the Best Actor Oscar for a chameleon like portrayal of Harvey Milk - Milk, in my opinion deserved the Best Picture Award as well. I was supposed to choose between them, but I honestly can't, so I'll fudge and pick both.
Best Movie Seen (Other Media): This was truly impossible to decide. How could I possibly choose, when I saw A Man For All Seasons, The Lion in Winter, The Third Man and The Hustler on DVD? All of them are classic films that are deservedly great. How to choose between Paul Schofield's tremendous portrayal of Thomas More as a man of conscience (A Man for All Seasons) or Paul Newman's immensely charismatic yet complex pool shark (The Hustler), not to mention a classic film Noir in The Third Man complete with a Orson Welles cameo. That's to discount Bernado Bertolluci's tremendously influential Last Tango in Paris with an unforgettable performance by Brando which I also saw for the first time this year. All brilliant movies which I would definitely watch again.
Worst Movie Seen (Any Media): Hollywood continues to churn out fairly bad, testosterone fueled action movies which ensures that Michael Bay will always have a job. While the first Transformers movie was fairly successful (mainly by not taking itself too seriously), the second one was bloated, overcooked and excessively long that took itself far too seriously. It was also not helped but some fairly bad acting (Sam's dad going "I don't wanna lose you" in such a terribly fake way in the middle of a war zone being the icing on the cake). New Moon was turgid and often excruciating. I found it impossible to overlook the often terrible lines such as "all you have to do is breath" [to make me happy], or "Bella, you're everything to me" (okay, I'll be honest and admit those aren't the exact lines, but rough paraphrases, but you get the idea!).
Occasionally I also feel the odd compulsion to watch a bad, generally brainless action movie without any plot. Thus, the abysmal Elecktra and the rather dull Fantastic Four. Oh, and I also did pay to watch Street Fighter: Legend of Chun Li in the cinemas, but that had Kristin Kreuk in it, and a local Singapore actor!
Addendum: Avatar did indeed turn out to be a spectacular movie which made my Top 25 list of the decade (as did Milk) while Star Trek missed out in that regard. So I guess Avatar and Milk are my best of 2009.
25 November 2009
Coloured (Paper) Memories
I was attending a Knowledge and Inquiry workshop organized by the Ministry and one of the sessions involved a hands on activity where we had to try and show a proof of Pythagoras' theorem using coloured paper.
Beyond the fact that the proof was really interesting, what struck me was that coloured paper was fundamentally the same from my school days. Even more impressively, the price tag showed that it cost only 60 cents for one packet of coloured paper, compared to 50 cents when I was in primary school. The price tag also showed that it had been purchased from one of those random neighbourhood stationary shops that are slowly disappearing.
All in all, a bit of a nostalgia trip as I hadn't seen coloured paper for years. It also struck me as fairly impressive that the price had remained relatively the same even after two decades. Other stationary items (fullscap paper, pens) are now far more costly, let alone food, cars and much else beside.
I remember a budding young entrepreneur type in my primary school who used to pay five cents to fellow classmates to make ninja stars which he would then sell for ten cents to other students. Even taking into account the cost of the coloured paper, he would turn a small profit. Ninja stars made of the prized gold and silver sheets cost more of course. It was also an early introduction to colour matching since a ninja star was made from two pieces of coloured paper folded together. There were many random combinations to be had - I particularly enjoyed black/pink and green/red ones.
Given my lack of ability in folding/wrapping/creating anything, I was often the student who bought the ninja stars for ten cents, rather than ending up part of the stable of individuals earning some small change making them. To put things into context, 10 cents was not inconsiderable in those days when your daily pocket money often amounted to a dollar. A glass of soya bean milk would cost that, from the old grumpy uncle (ten cents, ten cents, all also ten cents, big one twenty cents) who also sold Walls ice cream from a large cooler which he regularly slammed (never closed or shut, always slammed). A plate of small chicken rice cost only 30 cents.
For old times sake, I tried my hand at making a ninja star (while also attempting to prove Pythagoras right of course). I took a pink sheet and a black one and tried to combine them, but of course it came out all wrong. A person who apparently took weeks to learn how to tie my shoelaces (when I was little), who gets presents to family members wrapped by other family members to whom that present is not meant for (sis wraps dad, dad wraps mom, mom wraps sis), and who often struggles to tie a half windsor knot, that was always going to prove a challenge.
Beyond the fact that the proof was really interesting, what struck me was that coloured paper was fundamentally the same from my school days. Even more impressively, the price tag showed that it cost only 60 cents for one packet of coloured paper, compared to 50 cents when I was in primary school. The price tag also showed that it had been purchased from one of those random neighbourhood stationary shops that are slowly disappearing.
All in all, a bit of a nostalgia trip as I hadn't seen coloured paper for years. It also struck me as fairly impressive that the price had remained relatively the same even after two decades. Other stationary items (fullscap paper, pens) are now far more costly, let alone food, cars and much else beside.
I remember a budding young entrepreneur type in my primary school who used to pay five cents to fellow classmates to make ninja stars which he would then sell for ten cents to other students. Even taking into account the cost of the coloured paper, he would turn a small profit. Ninja stars made of the prized gold and silver sheets cost more of course. It was also an early introduction to colour matching since a ninja star was made from two pieces of coloured paper folded together. There were many random combinations to be had - I particularly enjoyed black/pink and green/red ones.
Given my lack of ability in folding/wrapping/creating anything, I was often the student who bought the ninja stars for ten cents, rather than ending up part of the stable of individuals earning some small change making them. To put things into context, 10 cents was not inconsiderable in those days when your daily pocket money often amounted to a dollar. A glass of soya bean milk would cost that, from the old grumpy uncle (ten cents, ten cents, all also ten cents, big one twenty cents) who also sold Walls ice cream from a large cooler which he regularly slammed (never closed or shut, always slammed). A plate of small chicken rice cost only 30 cents.
For old times sake, I tried my hand at making a ninja star (while also attempting to prove Pythagoras right of course). I took a pink sheet and a black one and tried to combine them, but of course it came out all wrong. A person who apparently took weeks to learn how to tie my shoelaces (when I was little), who gets presents to family members wrapped by other family members to whom that present is not meant for (sis wraps dad, dad wraps mom, mom wraps sis), and who often struggles to tie a half windsor knot, that was always going to prove a challenge.
12 November 2009
More Quizzing Mayhem
I was asked to stand in for Peter again this week as quizmaster, and the choice of "black-eyed Pete's" [a riff off Black Eyed Peas] as a team name was a not too subtle allusion as to why. I was short of inspiration for that week's quiz so it took a fairly long time to set. In the end, I set rounds on Remembering '89 (in honour of the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall); A Test of Character (teams had to name the film after I listed out some characters from it); and The Natural World (Animals, Plants, Physical Geography).
It was a full house - nine teams in total - and it made for a fairly good night. There was a bunch of first timers that definitely caught the eye no less because one of the members was a television personality who was a presenter on ESPN Sport Center. Attractive young ladies are a rarity at Old Brown Shoe quiz nights, so it was refreshing to see two of them that night, teammates of said television personality.
It turned out to be a fantastic quiz, perfectly pitched. By the end of the night, as many as 5 or 6 teams had a shot at winning it, and the top 5 were separated by a mere four points. The team with the attractive young ladies won, but sadly they had to forfeit their winnings for violating the long standing rule that each team could only have a maximum of six members. I still gave them a bottle of wine though, along with the third placed team. To give some idea of the balanced scoring, none of the nine teams scored a perfect 10 in any of the rounds; almost all teams scored at least a five in every round except for a team, self-styled as the "wooden spoons", which predictably struggled.
All in all, it was a very fascinating night, made even lovelier when I ended up speaking to Colette afterwards and was introduced to one of the girls - Emilie - who proved to be slightly tipsy. She proceeded to show her immense flexibility by placing both feet at either ends of the table top, and her considerable singing prowess by belting out some tunes from Annie. No doubt the alcohol had something to do with it, but I suspect she is generally random and slightly crazy, which is quite wonderful. A great pity then that I didn't get her number, one can only hopes she comes down to quiz again.
It was a full house - nine teams in total - and it made for a fairly good night. There was a bunch of first timers that definitely caught the eye no less because one of the members was a television personality who was a presenter on ESPN Sport Center. Attractive young ladies are a rarity at Old Brown Shoe quiz nights, so it was refreshing to see two of them that night, teammates of said television personality.
It turned out to be a fantastic quiz, perfectly pitched. By the end of the night, as many as 5 or 6 teams had a shot at winning it, and the top 5 were separated by a mere four points. The team with the attractive young ladies won, but sadly they had to forfeit their winnings for violating the long standing rule that each team could only have a maximum of six members. I still gave them a bottle of wine though, along with the third placed team. To give some idea of the balanced scoring, none of the nine teams scored a perfect 10 in any of the rounds; almost all teams scored at least a five in every round except for a team, self-styled as the "wooden spoons", which predictably struggled.
All in all, it was a very fascinating night, made even lovelier when I ended up speaking to Colette afterwards and was introduced to one of the girls - Emilie - who proved to be slightly tipsy. She proceeded to show her immense flexibility by placing both feet at either ends of the table top, and her considerable singing prowess by belting out some tunes from Annie. No doubt the alcohol had something to do with it, but I suspect she is generally random and slightly crazy, which is quite wonderful. A great pity then that I didn't get her number, one can only hopes she comes down to quiz again.
13 October 2009
A Book A Day for 365 Days
Of all the new year resolutions that I have made, one of the few that I have successfully kept is a pledge made back in 2000 to try and read at least one book a week for the entire year. I've since gone from that initial target of 52 books to setting myself a more ambitious one of 100 books for the year (just under 2 a week). All this pales in comparison though to the goal that Nina Sankovitch set herself - she wanted to finish a book a day for one entire year, and write a reflection on each and every one of them. She started on October 29, 2008 and she's almost done - having read through Christmas, New Year's and Easter. She started her one year of reading as a means of helping her come to terms with her sister's death and of course to appreciate more about herself and the world. Her reviews and thoughts on reading are real gems, which I encourage everyone to read.
I can't help but be moved and impressed by Nina's journey, and perhaps, one day I will find the courage and the time to do something similar. The depth and breadth of her reading was very impressive - she would not read anything she had already read before; she would read an individual author's work only once, and she would read widely - essays, short stories, science fiction and fantasy, crime, literary novels, the occasional classic. Of course, the fact that she had only a day to complete it meant that each book was usually limited to under 300 pages (with novellas for busy days).
It was flattering to see a number of books I've already read that she encountered for the first time during her one year journey. These included The Watchmen (she found it far too violent and didn't enjoy it), Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman (we both loved it but as book lovers that was only to be expected), Ali Smith's The First Person and Other Stories (she found Smith's style irritating and distracting, I found it intriguing and fun), The 39 Steps (we both thought it farcical and not very exciting), and many others such as Ender's Game, Paul Auster's Man in the Dark, Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach (she found the ending too staged, I thought he had earned it), Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates, The White Tiger, Never Let Me Go and Stardust by Neil Gaiman (we both wanted more of faerie).
Anyhow here's a salute to Nina once again, and I'll go back to her list and I'll sure be glad to find some interesting new reads that might help me fulfil my goal of reading 100 books next year.
I can't help but be moved and impressed by Nina's journey, and perhaps, one day I will find the courage and the time to do something similar. The depth and breadth of her reading was very impressive - she would not read anything she had already read before; she would read an individual author's work only once, and she would read widely - essays, short stories, science fiction and fantasy, crime, literary novels, the occasional classic. Of course, the fact that she had only a day to complete it meant that each book was usually limited to under 300 pages (with novellas for busy days).
It was flattering to see a number of books I've already read that she encountered for the first time during her one year journey. These included The Watchmen (she found it far too violent and didn't enjoy it), Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman (we both loved it but as book lovers that was only to be expected), Ali Smith's The First Person and Other Stories (she found Smith's style irritating and distracting, I found it intriguing and fun), The 39 Steps (we both thought it farcical and not very exciting), and many others such as Ender's Game, Paul Auster's Man in the Dark, Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach (she found the ending too staged, I thought he had earned it), Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates, The White Tiger, Never Let Me Go and Stardust by Neil Gaiman (we both wanted more of faerie).
Anyhow here's a salute to Nina once again, and I'll go back to her list and I'll sure be glad to find some interesting new reads that might help me fulfil my goal of reading 100 books next year.
23 September 2009
Courting Controversy
I was asked by Pete to be the quizmaster this week as he had a load of marking to catch up on. I naturally agreed - I do love being the quizmaster and I pride myself on setting a fair quiz. For me, there have to be at least a couple of teams with a shout of winning the quiz for it to count as successful.
The last time I set the quiz there were complaints that it was slightly too intellectual with a round on first lines from novels, and one on famous last words (from both real and fictional people), so this time I decided to dumb it down considerably. So, I besides a more typical round on the 1920s, I dumbed things down considerably with a round on celebrity baby names. As if more proof were needed of the horrendous names that people give celebrities. I also set a random and interesting round on tricksters and scams, which was a bit of fun.
All in all it was a fairly well received quiz bar one moment. I asked a question about the recent Manchester derby football match, where there was a huge bone of contention over the amount of added time played, mainly because Michael Owen rifled in the winner with the clock showing 95:25. I of course, asked what minute in extra time the goal was scored and there was significant semantic controversy as to whether that constituted the 95th or 96th minute of added time. Obviously less than 6 minutes of added time had elapsed, but it was still IN the 96th minute itself. Confused? Well some of the teams were outraged. The problem was 2 teams had put 95th and three teams had put 96th, so in the end I accepted both answers.
Other than that, I was rather pleased that my usual team missed out on a question on the 'Lost Generation' (in the 1920s round) despite having 2 literature teachers in their ranks. And I was pleased, in keeping with my own ethos about exciting quizzes that the top three teams were only separated by 2 points at the end of the night.
The last time I set the quiz there were complaints that it was slightly too intellectual with a round on first lines from novels, and one on famous last words (from both real and fictional people), so this time I decided to dumb it down considerably. So, I besides a more typical round on the 1920s, I dumbed things down considerably with a round on celebrity baby names. As if more proof were needed of the horrendous names that people give celebrities. I also set a random and interesting round on tricksters and scams, which was a bit of fun.
All in all it was a fairly well received quiz bar one moment. I asked a question about the recent Manchester derby football match, where there was a huge bone of contention over the amount of added time played, mainly because Michael Owen rifled in the winner with the clock showing 95:25. I of course, asked what minute in extra time the goal was scored and there was significant semantic controversy as to whether that constituted the 95th or 96th minute of added time. Obviously less than 6 minutes of added time had elapsed, but it was still IN the 96th minute itself. Confused? Well some of the teams were outraged. The problem was 2 teams had put 95th and three teams had put 96th, so in the end I accepted both answers.
Other than that, I was rather pleased that my usual team missed out on a question on the 'Lost Generation' (in the 1920s round) despite having 2 literature teachers in their ranks. And I was pleased, in keeping with my own ethos about exciting quizzes that the top three teams were only separated by 2 points at the end of the night.
20 September 2009
Defending the Caveman
Defending the Caveman came relatively hyped up. After a sold out first run last year, the SRT brought it back for another run due to 'popular demand'. It is easy to see why so many people loved it, dealing as it does with gender stereotypes and the battle of the sexes it was impossible not to resonate. It was definitely popular with the audience, as there were laughs throughout, though the true measure of its success could probably be measured in the number of knowing glances between couples that were exchanged throughout the show.
However, to sum it all up it was not theater. Not to be too pedantic about it, but the 'play' was effectively a one man scripted stand up comic routine masquerading as a play, much to the detriment of both its attempts to be theater and more damagingly, to its attempts at comedy. Apart from a few props (TV set, a couple of wall mounted paintings, chair, pillow) which the best stand up routines now incorporate anyhow, and some largely irrelevant lighting effects, there wasn't anything terribly theatrical about it. Not that it largely mattered if the play (or should I say routine) succeeded on its own terms. I had some serious doubts in that regard, however.
I'm quite a big fan of improvised comedy, particularly the British variety. I admit to not having had the chance to see much improv live, but I have a couple of friends who are diehard fans, and we occasionally get together to watch the latest DVDs of QI (with the indelible Stephen Fry), as well as other one night only performances. Of course the very point of improv is that it is not scripted, and the performer is able to feed off the audience. Of course the best improv performers prepare and reherse quite thoroughly, but there is an element of spontaneity which characterizes the best routines. That of course was very much missing in Defending the Caveman, stolidly scripted as it was.
Daniel Jenkins does a fine enough job, nicely building up an easy rapport with the audience, without which the entire production would have fallen quite flat. He strutted and exaggerated and milked the laughs, and was more than competent especially when role-playing the inevitable disagreements and entanglements that formed the complex web of male-female relations that was at the heart of the show.
Ultimately, though, I just didn't find the jokes all that creative or original, and in fact not even all that funny. There were the usual cliches trotted out about men being hunters and women gatherers and how that accounts for our differences. So women always gather information about each other, while men of course when interacting are satisfied with a couple of grunts following which they watch footie on the telly. Of course that is why men can't multitask either (they're evolved to concentrate on one thing for a long time) while women are quite the opposite. The jokes went on in a similar vein and soon started to wear thin.
The problem is, you soon got the sense that you've heard all of this before, probably when meeting up with you guy or girl pals for a bitch about the opposite sex (ah one thing that men and women have in common!). When the play went on to espouse such nuggets as poking fun of the fact that men absolutely refuse to ask for directions (which was mocked far more succintly and charmingly in Pixar's Cars among other places), I quietly felt the inclination to want to leave the theater, head straight to my local pub and start moaning to my mates. Of course, that could just be down to the fact that I wasn't one of the lucky six people to get a free Tiger beer (in what was probably the only original act in the entire play). More likely, it is due to the urgings of my inner caveman that I felt hard pressed to resist.
However, to sum it all up it was not theater. Not to be too pedantic about it, but the 'play' was effectively a one man scripted stand up comic routine masquerading as a play, much to the detriment of both its attempts to be theater and more damagingly, to its attempts at comedy. Apart from a few props (TV set, a couple of wall mounted paintings, chair, pillow) which the best stand up routines now incorporate anyhow, and some largely irrelevant lighting effects, there wasn't anything terribly theatrical about it. Not that it largely mattered if the play (or should I say routine) succeeded on its own terms. I had some serious doubts in that regard, however.
I'm quite a big fan of improvised comedy, particularly the British variety. I admit to not having had the chance to see much improv live, but I have a couple of friends who are diehard fans, and we occasionally get together to watch the latest DVDs of QI (with the indelible Stephen Fry), as well as other one night only performances. Of course the very point of improv is that it is not scripted, and the performer is able to feed off the audience. Of course the best improv performers prepare and reherse quite thoroughly, but there is an element of spontaneity which characterizes the best routines. That of course was very much missing in Defending the Caveman, stolidly scripted as it was.
Daniel Jenkins does a fine enough job, nicely building up an easy rapport with the audience, without which the entire production would have fallen quite flat. He strutted and exaggerated and milked the laughs, and was more than competent especially when role-playing the inevitable disagreements and entanglements that formed the complex web of male-female relations that was at the heart of the show.
Ultimately, though, I just didn't find the jokes all that creative or original, and in fact not even all that funny. There were the usual cliches trotted out about men being hunters and women gatherers and how that accounts for our differences. So women always gather information about each other, while men of course when interacting are satisfied with a couple of grunts following which they watch footie on the telly. Of course that is why men can't multitask either (they're evolved to concentrate on one thing for a long time) while women are quite the opposite. The jokes went on in a similar vein and soon started to wear thin.
The problem is, you soon got the sense that you've heard all of this before, probably when meeting up with you guy or girl pals for a bitch about the opposite sex (ah one thing that men and women have in common!). When the play went on to espouse such nuggets as poking fun of the fact that men absolutely refuse to ask for directions (which was mocked far more succintly and charmingly in Pixar's Cars among other places), I quietly felt the inclination to want to leave the theater, head straight to my local pub and start moaning to my mates. Of course, that could just be down to the fact that I wasn't one of the lucky six people to get a free Tiger beer (in what was probably the only original act in the entire play). More likely, it is due to the urgings of my inner caveman that I felt hard pressed to resist.
12 September 2009
England and 'Destiny'
Much has been made on England's brilliant progress in their recent World Cup qualifying campaign and their eight consecutive wins. The praise and enthusiasm has reached a new high following their 5-1 victory over Croatia, a win that sealed their place in next year's World Cup. Coach Fabio Capello has now officially gone on record in saying that anything less than making the finals next year in South Africa will be a disappointment. The British press has typically gone all agog, with the Times stating that there was a 'sense of destiny' about England. However, as any England fan will know, England never fails to provide a sense of drama and heartbreak. If anyone can break this streak it is the iron-willed, disciplined and methodical Italian manager they now have, but I'm not altogether ruling it out.
The first thing that inevitably seems to happen, of course, is injuries. It seems inevitable that England enters a World Cup with their best player facing some kind of major injury crisis. Captain Fantastic Bryan Robson had a hamstring injury and struggled for full fitness for much of Italy '90 - that was well before the sudden metatursal jink that affected both David Beckham in 2002 and then Wayne Rooney in 2006. Capello himself noted that one key factor in England's success will be their physical conditioning during the World Cup itself. He'll have one full week to make sure they're in shape before the competition starts, but there is not much he can do if they're crocked.
In a related point, for all of Capello's tactical nous, England's squad still remains thin in several areas. The Goalkeeping problem is unlikely to go away, Paul Robinson has World Cup experience, but was in a slump; David James remains error prone; Rob Green whom Capello seems now to prefer is hardly deemed world class. England also lack an out and out striker. Wayne Rooney is wonderful gifted but he's not a true goal poacher (and his best talents lie elsewhere, anyhow), for all the physical presence that Emile Heskey has provided, he has a poor goalscoring record, and missed two one on ones against Croatia. France in 1998 proved decisively that you don't need a proven goalscorer to win the World Cup - they had Stephane Guivarch and Cristophe Dugarry leading the line when they won, but it does make life easier. An injury to Rooney would still be fairly fatal to England, and there might be a lack of goals should opponents find a way to effectively stifle England's midfield.
Lastly, there is the dreaded notion of penalties. Of the horrors of Italia '90, the '96 Euro Championships (both to Germany), the '98 World Cup, and of course the last World Cup finals against Portugal. On some occasions there was a clear lack of self-belief and some bizarre decisions - what was David Batty doing taking a penalty in 1998? As much as I admire Gareth Southgate's courage in 1996 he made it sound like a complete spur of the moment decision to step up and take the sudden death penalty. Shouldn't such things be planned? They will be under Capello. England players certainly don't lack self-belief and it is not that they can't take them. Gerrard, Lampard and Barry (at Villa) regularly took spot kicks for their clubs and now Rooney seems to have taken over the job at Man Utd. Yet Gerrard and Lampard both missed in 2006. One final interesting point - given his trauma in the 2008 Champion's League final playing for Chelsea, will England captain John Terry step up to the plate again if England are faced with a shootout?
It's fun being an England fan. You learn to live with drama and a little bit of heartbreak. It would be nice for a change if they actually do go on and win the tournament, and they get lucky in the lottery of freak injuries and penalty shootouts, but it would be just a little less exciting. Destiny, maybe, but I'm not ruling anything out just yet.
The first thing that inevitably seems to happen, of course, is injuries. It seems inevitable that England enters a World Cup with their best player facing some kind of major injury crisis. Captain Fantastic Bryan Robson had a hamstring injury and struggled for full fitness for much of Italy '90 - that was well before the sudden metatursal jink that affected both David Beckham in 2002 and then Wayne Rooney in 2006. Capello himself noted that one key factor in England's success will be their physical conditioning during the World Cup itself. He'll have one full week to make sure they're in shape before the competition starts, but there is not much he can do if they're crocked.
In a related point, for all of Capello's tactical nous, England's squad still remains thin in several areas. The Goalkeeping problem is unlikely to go away, Paul Robinson has World Cup experience, but was in a slump; David James remains error prone; Rob Green whom Capello seems now to prefer is hardly deemed world class. England also lack an out and out striker. Wayne Rooney is wonderful gifted but he's not a true goal poacher (and his best talents lie elsewhere, anyhow), for all the physical presence that Emile Heskey has provided, he has a poor goalscoring record, and missed two one on ones against Croatia. France in 1998 proved decisively that you don't need a proven goalscorer to win the World Cup - they had Stephane Guivarch and Cristophe Dugarry leading the line when they won, but it does make life easier. An injury to Rooney would still be fairly fatal to England, and there might be a lack of goals should opponents find a way to effectively stifle England's midfield.
Lastly, there is the dreaded notion of penalties. Of the horrors of Italia '90, the '96 Euro Championships (both to Germany), the '98 World Cup, and of course the last World Cup finals against Portugal. On some occasions there was a clear lack of self-belief and some bizarre decisions - what was David Batty doing taking a penalty in 1998? As much as I admire Gareth Southgate's courage in 1996 he made it sound like a complete spur of the moment decision to step up and take the sudden death penalty. Shouldn't such things be planned? They will be under Capello. England players certainly don't lack self-belief and it is not that they can't take them. Gerrard, Lampard and Barry (at Villa) regularly took spot kicks for their clubs and now Rooney seems to have taken over the job at Man Utd. Yet Gerrard and Lampard both missed in 2006. One final interesting point - given his trauma in the 2008 Champion's League final playing for Chelsea, will England captain John Terry step up to the plate again if England are faced with a shootout?
It's fun being an England fan. You learn to live with drama and a little bit of heartbreak. It would be nice for a change if they actually do go on and win the tournament, and they get lucky in the lottery of freak injuries and penalty shootouts, but it would be just a little less exciting. Destiny, maybe, but I'm not ruling anything out just yet.
1 July 2009
Counterknowledge
Random crackpot conspiracy theories have been around for ages. We all have our favourites such as insisting that JFK was assassinated by more than the lone gunman but instead fatally shot by a mysterious shooter on the grassy knoll (either way, there is no disputing that he ended up quite dead) . Indeed, if one were to be completely spurious about it, I wouldn't be surprised to find that more Americans believe in the existence of UFOs than the theory of evolution.
Damian Thompson takes direct aim at some of the more nonsensical recent crackpot theories in his book on Counterknowledge subtitled "how we have surrendered ourselves to conspiracy theories, quack medicine, bogus science and fake history". These might make rather easy targets, but Thompson argues that their influence has grown rather perniciously. Indeed, counterknowledge which he defines as "misinformation packaged to look like fact" has gone from being at the fringe of society to having spread to the mainstream. UFOs are a classic example of this, but the list now encompasses such unfounded scares and unabashed rubbish as a 9/11 being an American-Israeli conspiracy, MMR immunization causing autism, quack nutritionism, alternative treatments in general, particularly for HIV/AIDS, creationism, and such meta-historical nonsense as Jesus fathering a child, China 'discovering' America and the holocaust never occuring.
As he notes, one of the paradoxes of our age is that while "our techniques for evaluating evidence are subtler than before..... counterknowledge is corrupting intellectual standards". It must be said that he does skirt around the more intellectually interesting question of why this might be the case. Mention is made, obviously, of the internet, and the information revolution which has increased the "privatization of knowledge" and has made everyone an expert. He also delves into Sociology arguing that modernity leads to the "dismantling of authority structures" and our dedication to what Anthony Giddens calls the "reflexive project of the self". Still, more interesting analysis on this paradox of more easily available knowledge leading to the growth of so-called counterknowledge would have been welcome.
Where Thompson does succeed well is gleefully deflating some of these crackpot theories. He does this with gleeful abandon and not inconsiderable wit. He delights in showing the intellectual bankruptness of such quack cures as homeopathy, craniosacral therapy and other so called 'alternative' medicines. More scarily, he shows how some of those remedies are now marketed officially in high street stores such as Boots, or worse how homeopathy is available as a treatment from the NHS and as a degree course at the University of Westminster. Nutritionism, or rather those who abuse the label also comes under fire from him, and his cynicism is amply justified when we consider that (Dr.) Gillian McKeith actually earned her Phd from a non-accredited American University on the basis of a correspondence course. Worse still is the case of Patrick Holford, a 'nutritionist' whose degree in psychology better explains his blatant attempts to market quack products like a 'crystal' which will protect one from allegedly harmful electromagnetic radiation emanating from mobile phone towers.
Ours has been labelled the information age with good reason: advances in technology has allowed us almost instant access to unlimited information. But as Damian Thompson has pointed out, this has also led to the pernicious spread of misinformation. We might shrug off mass mails about HIV infected needles being left on train seats in order to infect people (the virus can't survive any length of time openly exposed), but it is more scary for society at large when this extends to autism scares over MMR jabs, cancer scares over cellphone antennaes and the belief that China discovered America in 1421 (and Europe in 1431 too apparently).
Damian Thompson takes direct aim at some of the more nonsensical recent crackpot theories in his book on Counterknowledge subtitled "how we have surrendered ourselves to conspiracy theories, quack medicine, bogus science and fake history". These might make rather easy targets, but Thompson argues that their influence has grown rather perniciously. Indeed, counterknowledge which he defines as "misinformation packaged to look like fact" has gone from being at the fringe of society to having spread to the mainstream. UFOs are a classic example of this, but the list now encompasses such unfounded scares and unabashed rubbish as a 9/11 being an American-Israeli conspiracy, MMR immunization causing autism, quack nutritionism, alternative treatments in general, particularly for HIV/AIDS, creationism, and such meta-historical nonsense as Jesus fathering a child, China 'discovering' America and the holocaust never occuring.
As he notes, one of the paradoxes of our age is that while "our techniques for evaluating evidence are subtler than before..... counterknowledge is corrupting intellectual standards". It must be said that he does skirt around the more intellectually interesting question of why this might be the case. Mention is made, obviously, of the internet, and the information revolution which has increased the "privatization of knowledge" and has made everyone an expert. He also delves into Sociology arguing that modernity leads to the "dismantling of authority structures" and our dedication to what Anthony Giddens calls the "reflexive project of the self". Still, more interesting analysis on this paradox of more easily available knowledge leading to the growth of so-called counterknowledge would have been welcome.
Where Thompson does succeed well is gleefully deflating some of these crackpot theories. He does this with gleeful abandon and not inconsiderable wit. He delights in showing the intellectual bankruptness of such quack cures as homeopathy, craniosacral therapy and other so called 'alternative' medicines. More scarily, he shows how some of those remedies are now marketed officially in high street stores such as Boots, or worse how homeopathy is available as a treatment from the NHS and as a degree course at the University of Westminster. Nutritionism, or rather those who abuse the label also comes under fire from him, and his cynicism is amply justified when we consider that (Dr.) Gillian McKeith actually earned her Phd from a non-accredited American University on the basis of a correspondence course. Worse still is the case of Patrick Holford, a 'nutritionist' whose degree in psychology better explains his blatant attempts to market quack products like a 'crystal' which will protect one from allegedly harmful electromagnetic radiation emanating from mobile phone towers.
Ours has been labelled the information age with good reason: advances in technology has allowed us almost instant access to unlimited information. But as Damian Thompson has pointed out, this has also led to the pernicious spread of misinformation. We might shrug off mass mails about HIV infected needles being left on train seats in order to infect people (the virus can't survive any length of time openly exposed), but it is more scary for society at large when this extends to autism scares over MMR jabs, cancer scares over cellphone antennaes and the belief that China discovered America in 1421 (and Europe in 1431 too apparently).
16 June 2009
Spelling As a Competitive Sport
People who know me well will know that I am a bit of a sports junkie. As in, I am the kind of person who will be happy to put ESPN on in the background, and I am someone who follows a wide variety of sports - football, tennis, basketball, golf, and even more random ones like table tennis and badminton. ESPN has been extending their coverage to such non-traditional sports as pool, snooker, bowling and darts (all of which I must admit I do rather enjoy watching as a kind of guilty pleasure), but even I was taken aback when I turned on the TV the other evening to be confronted with the ultimate clash of the titans, 48 individuals battling it out for the ultimate grand prize: the US National Spelling Bee trophy.
Traditionalists ("It ain't a sport unless you sweat while doing it") will laugh, but there was something rather captivating about seeing 13 and 14 year olds (some as young as 9) puzzling out words which were, quite honestly baffling, even to those who believe they have a considerable grasp of the English language. That spelling is a competitive sport, as unlikely as that might sound, was soon evident from the contestants.
Many of them were familiar with Latin and Greek root and derivatives, better to ensure not being caught out by tricky words; a number of them were making their second, third or even fourth appearance at the National Spelling Bee, with previous experience seen as a bonus (is experience a key factor, well just ask any golfer or tennis player yet to win a major). Nerves were evident, unsurprising given the one mistake and you're out see you next year format of the competition. It was often tension filled and pressure packed - there was even a psychologist on hand to counsel the distressed, some visibly distraught after they were literally "rung out" by the dreaded bell, signifying they had made a misstep puzzling out some fiendish word or another.
Just how difficult was it? I am not a great speller, laziness and Microsoft Word spellcheck has seen to that, but I do think I have a fair vocabulary. By the third and fourth elimination rounds (when the difficulty was increased) I would have probably gotten between a third to a half of the words wrong. This put me just about par for the competition as a whole. No doubt, these were 13 and 14 year olds, so I should feel ashamed at my ignorance, but in my defense, some of the contestants admitted to more or less sleeping with a Miriam-Webster by their bedsides, and spending arduous amounts of preparation in advance of the competition.
That said, I have kept a little notebook which I have filled with puzzling and interesting words that I had not previously come across. I have always meant to check out their meanings and etymologies, if only to expand my vocabulary. I have also meant to get to the roots of language, literally and metaphorically, to actually learn the building blocks (what is an adverb, what on earth is a past participle?) of grammar. Perhaps watching the US National Spelling Bee will inspire me to renew my efforts in this.
Traditionalists ("It ain't a sport unless you sweat while doing it") will laugh, but there was something rather captivating about seeing 13 and 14 year olds (some as young as 9) puzzling out words which were, quite honestly baffling, even to those who believe they have a considerable grasp of the English language. That spelling is a competitive sport, as unlikely as that might sound, was soon evident from the contestants.
Many of them were familiar with Latin and Greek root and derivatives, better to ensure not being caught out by tricky words; a number of them were making their second, third or even fourth appearance at the National Spelling Bee, with previous experience seen as a bonus (is experience a key factor, well just ask any golfer or tennis player yet to win a major). Nerves were evident, unsurprising given the one mistake and you're out see you next year format of the competition. It was often tension filled and pressure packed - there was even a psychologist on hand to counsel the distressed, some visibly distraught after they were literally "rung out" by the dreaded bell, signifying they had made a misstep puzzling out some fiendish word or another.
Just how difficult was it? I am not a great speller, laziness and Microsoft Word spellcheck has seen to that, but I do think I have a fair vocabulary. By the third and fourth elimination rounds (when the difficulty was increased) I would have probably gotten between a third to a half of the words wrong. This put me just about par for the competition as a whole. No doubt, these were 13 and 14 year olds, so I should feel ashamed at my ignorance, but in my defense, some of the contestants admitted to more or less sleeping with a Miriam-Webster by their bedsides, and spending arduous amounts of preparation in advance of the competition.
That said, I have kept a little notebook which I have filled with puzzling and interesting words that I had not previously come across. I have always meant to check out their meanings and etymologies, if only to expand my vocabulary. I have also meant to get to the roots of language, literally and metaphorically, to actually learn the building blocks (what is an adverb, what on earth is a past participle?) of grammar. Perhaps watching the US National Spelling Bee will inspire me to renew my efforts in this.
12 June 2009
15 Books
I've succumbed to yet another Facebook meme that has gone rabid. This one can be basically called 15 Books. You are supposed to choose 15 books that you love, or that had a major influence on your life. It was a very difficult task for me, given how much I enjoy reading, but here is the list I've come up with:
Near Misses: A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters by Julian Barnes, Practical Ethics by Peter Singer, Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George, Bartholomew and the 500 Hats by Dr Seuss, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisevitch by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
- The Lord of the Rings | J.R.R Tolkien
- Dune | Frank Herbert
- The Sandman Graphic Novels | Neil Gaiman
- The Passion | Jeanette Winterson
- Housekeeping | Marilynne Robinson
- Atonement | Ian McEwan
- Disgrace | J.M Coetzee
- The Remains of the Day | Kazuo Ishiguro
- The Great Gatsby | F. Scott Fitzgerald
- The Things They Carried | Tim O'Brien
- In Cold Blood | Truman Capote
- King Lear | William Shakespeare
- Ex Libris | Anne Fadiman
- A Wrinkle in Time | Madeleine L'Engle
- True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle | Avi
Near Misses: A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters by Julian Barnes, Practical Ethics by Peter Singer, Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George, Bartholomew and the 500 Hats by Dr Seuss, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisevitch by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
10 June 2009
Love Condensed?
On certain occasions, fiction mirrors reality to a rather uncanny extent. We quote music lyrics because sometimes they express what we feel in a more direct and pithy way that we otherwise manage. So I found this passage in Julian Barnes's England England, which I am now reading:
Martha knew exactly what she wanted: truth, simplicity, love, kindness, companionship, fun, and good sex was how the list might start. She also knew that such list making was daft; normally human but still daft. So while her heart opened, her mind had remained anxious. Paul behaved as if their relationship were already a given: its parameters decided, its purpose certain, all problems strictly for the future. She recognized this trait all too well, the blithe urgency to get on with being a couple before the constituent parts and workings of coupledom had been established. She had been here before. Part of her wished she hadn't; she felt burdened by her own historyCouldn't have put my current feelings more accurately and concisely that what Barnes has written. Fiction mirroring reality.
9 June 2009
Soft Landing
My mother told me about the death of Elisha Chng the other day, and I was quite shocked. It was a surreal sensation reading about him in the afternoon papers - about how he played rugby and was a male model, though I was annoyed at the tone of idle speculation, the he seemed to have it all, so why? I used to play with Elisha when we were young children - our families were close. I remember giving him a bucket of G.I. Joes when he left for Africa with his family - his father was a missionary sent there to proselytize. I've written this poem as a form of remembrance and tribute. Note it is still a work in progress. Comments and suggestions on the poem (and how to improve it!) are welcome.
Soft Landing
I knew you but briefly
more a presence, a memory,
than something solid,
until the thump of your landing
in the afternoon papers -
dry words of baffled condolence
leavened with concrete.
the grown up you, secondhand -
rugger, model, all action hero,
rather like the G.I Joes
we played with as kids –
a bucketful my parting gift
as you left for
You weren’t a close friend or confidant –
nothing to warrant
this extravagance of verse;
still, I offer this wreath -
wraith like memories
thinly plucked
an antidote to idle speculation:
of why, what, waste
seeking some absolution
better found
in quiet remembrance.
7 June 2009
Mexican Banditry
The sister, CL, and myself met at Holland Village for lunch, and given the usual ding dong backwards and forwards discussion of where to eat, I plumped for Mexican. Holland Village itself has two Mexican restaurants sitting plumb right beside one another. Family tradition has dictated that we always dine at El Patio, which has a slightly more homely feel compared to Cha Cha Cha which was reputed to serve food that was less than authentic.
That age old tradition was to be broken today. We arrived at El Patio and stood outside briefly perusing the menu. The restaurant was completely empty, rather dire for a Sunday afternoon. We could blatantly see the one staff member on duty inside the restaurant, sitting at one of the tables, doing her damnedest to blithely ignore us. Even when we stood there for five minutes and began staring straight are her. I finally made irritated waving motions and she slowly and very reluctantly began to rise from her slouch, by which time me and the sister were so irritated, we walked away.
It was thus that we came to dine at Cha Cha Cha. The service was admittedly much more prompt. We were soon shown to a table. That, if anything, could explain why they had 6 or 7 tables occupied to El Patio's none. All was going rather well. Until the food came. I had ordered the mixed combo - one hard taco with beef, one chicken burrito. By the time I was half way through the hard taco, I was confronted with stringy bits of meat at the bottom, which was so tasteless, I couldn't remember whether I had ordered the beef or the chicken with the taco, and quite honestly, on taste alone I couldn't tell. I guessed it was beef based on the coloration, and nothing else. My sister was similar unenthused about her meal - her rice wasn't quite to her liking, and the refried beans tasted like they had probably been refried one too many times. The result was poor CL being subjected to a litany of complaints about the food from the two of us.
So, the puzzling question for us remained: how did these two establishments survive for longer than a decade at Holland Village, given the poor food in one, and the poor service in the latter (though the poor service at El Patio was probably due to a change in management). More importantly, where can Caleb and the sister go if they want some good mexican food? There is of course the Cafe Iguana, near Clarke Quay and with a newly opened outlet on Greenwood, which is decent. But we're looking for really authentic Mexican, stuff which can vaguely measure up to what we had when we spent a few months in Texas. Can anyone help us with our conondum, please do send recommendations. We need to eat proper Mexican after the debacle that was Cha Cha Cha.
That age old tradition was to be broken today. We arrived at El Patio and stood outside briefly perusing the menu. The restaurant was completely empty, rather dire for a Sunday afternoon. We could blatantly see the one staff member on duty inside the restaurant, sitting at one of the tables, doing her damnedest to blithely ignore us. Even when we stood there for five minutes and began staring straight are her. I finally made irritated waving motions and she slowly and very reluctantly began to rise from her slouch, by which time me and the sister were so irritated, we walked away.
It was thus that we came to dine at Cha Cha Cha. The service was admittedly much more prompt. We were soon shown to a table. That, if anything, could explain why they had 6 or 7 tables occupied to El Patio's none. All was going rather well. Until the food came. I had ordered the mixed combo - one hard taco with beef, one chicken burrito. By the time I was half way through the hard taco, I was confronted with stringy bits of meat at the bottom, which was so tasteless, I couldn't remember whether I had ordered the beef or the chicken with the taco, and quite honestly, on taste alone I couldn't tell. I guessed it was beef based on the coloration, and nothing else. My sister was similar unenthused about her meal - her rice wasn't quite to her liking, and the refried beans tasted like they had probably been refried one too many times. The result was poor CL being subjected to a litany of complaints about the food from the two of us.
So, the puzzling question for us remained: how did these two establishments survive for longer than a decade at Holland Village, given the poor food in one, and the poor service in the latter (though the poor service at El Patio was probably due to a change in management). More importantly, where can Caleb and the sister go if they want some good mexican food? There is of course the Cafe Iguana, near Clarke Quay and with a newly opened outlet on Greenwood, which is decent. But we're looking for really authentic Mexican, stuff which can vaguely measure up to what we had when we spent a few months in Texas. Can anyone help us with our conondum, please do send recommendations. We need to eat proper Mexican after the debacle that was Cha Cha Cha.
6 June 2009
My Simple Pleasures
It all started when CL sent an SMS commenting about the simple joys of gelato, and watching happy dogs and exuberant children frolic about, with a subsequent query about what my simple pleasures were. Conventional wisdom tells us to count our blessings, a simple old as apple pie piece of advice that has been echoed by countless self-help and positive psychology books centering on how we can achieve happiness. Admittedly though, having the question posed so starkly gave me pause, though it hardly took me all that long to reply. What I can up with was:
reading a good book, watching an enjoyable movie in the cinema, browsing in a bookstore or a library, watching a play or a concert, holding someone you care about deeply, my dog wagging her tail and bringing me her toy ball whenever I step through the door, a beer in the pub with some friends, dinner at a nice restaurant with good company, meeting new and interesting people, catching up with old friends, randomly bumping into someone on a street corner, the thrill of pulling out a random piece of trivia or information, sleeping in, sharing a bottle of wine with company, staying up late doing absolutely nothing, spur of the moment decisions, suppers, lazy Sundays, reading the news, heartfelt kisses, the fresh smell of a brand new book and the musty smell of an old one, pretty notebooks, dry humour, long rambling discussions, sitting and watching the stars, hiking and walking, visiting new places, lovely little cafes and eateries
Of course the list doesn't end there. But the rather long list shows that as cynical as you care to be, there are lots of little things in life that inherently make it worth living.
reading a good book, watching an enjoyable movie in the cinema, browsing in a bookstore or a library, watching a play or a concert, holding someone you care about deeply, my dog wagging her tail and bringing me her toy ball whenever I step through the door, a beer in the pub with some friends, dinner at a nice restaurant with good company, meeting new and interesting people, catching up with old friends, randomly bumping into someone on a street corner, the thrill of pulling out a random piece of trivia or information, sleeping in, sharing a bottle of wine with company, staying up late doing absolutely nothing, spur of the moment decisions, suppers, lazy Sundays, reading the news, heartfelt kisses, the fresh smell of a brand new book and the musty smell of an old one, pretty notebooks, dry humour, long rambling discussions, sitting and watching the stars, hiking and walking, visiting new places, lovely little cafes and eateries
Of course the list doesn't end there. But the rather long list shows that as cynical as you care to be, there are lots of little things in life that inherently make it worth living.
3 June 2009
When Harry Dumped Sally
I was having a random chat with M. when we both mentioned that we really enjoyed When Harry Met Sally. Which is unsurprising given that it is a cult romantic comedy classic but surprising given that we are both a little bit cynical and jaded, and don't ordinarily watch rom coms.
The cynical side of us did come through of course. Like in any romantic comedy, the two protagonists end up together at the end. That wasn't a spoiler. If you are watching a rom com you know it is going to happen. Anyhow, I mentioned that I always thought that Harry and Sally would divorce after say 5 years of marriage because they would start to drive each other nuts. M said that she always thought that it would happen that way too. Of course given that the American divorce rate is hovering at about 50%, we have a odds on chance of being right.
So we started imagining what would happen after the credits rolled. So they divorce after 5 years but what do they do then? Perhaps Sally buys a dog to help her get over the break-up and she meets a lovely guy while walking the dog in the park one day. M was like no no maybe Sally turns lesbian (being so put out by men after Harry) and meets this really hot chick and ends up with her! Maybe they meet while Sally is walking her dog.
As for Harry. Well, he probably leaves New York and goes out of state in order to try to find himself. M wanted him to turn fat, and lose his job and be miserable. But, he needs some kind of redeeming quality too. What if he turns gay as well? I tell M. that we can't have both of them turn gay as that will go beyond the bounds of all credibility. Maybe he joins a hippie commune or loses himself in Zen Buddhism.
Where we can agree is that Harry and Sally don't end up back together. We are too realistic and cynical for us to believe or even want that to happen. Life doesn't always imitate the movies. I proposed the title When Harry Dumped Sally as suitably nice. M did say that even she found the idea and the title depressing. It would make her lose all hope in love. Which probably means that it won't sell.
I've always harboured secret dreams of writing a screenplay. Why not write a cheap sequel to a cult classic. Goodness knows it has been done often enough before! I'll just go check on the availability of Rob Reiner to direct, and of course Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal to star......
The cynical side of us did come through of course. Like in any romantic comedy, the two protagonists end up together at the end. That wasn't a spoiler. If you are watching a rom com you know it is going to happen. Anyhow, I mentioned that I always thought that Harry and Sally would divorce after say 5 years of marriage because they would start to drive each other nuts. M said that she always thought that it would happen that way too. Of course given that the American divorce rate is hovering at about 50%, we have a odds on chance of being right.
So we started imagining what would happen after the credits rolled. So they divorce after 5 years but what do they do then? Perhaps Sally buys a dog to help her get over the break-up and she meets a lovely guy while walking the dog in the park one day. M was like no no maybe Sally turns lesbian (being so put out by men after Harry) and meets this really hot chick and ends up with her! Maybe they meet while Sally is walking her dog.
As for Harry. Well, he probably leaves New York and goes out of state in order to try to find himself. M wanted him to turn fat, and lose his job and be miserable. But, he needs some kind of redeeming quality too. What if he turns gay as well? I tell M. that we can't have both of them turn gay as that will go beyond the bounds of all credibility. Maybe he joins a hippie commune or loses himself in Zen Buddhism.
Where we can agree is that Harry and Sally don't end up back together. We are too realistic and cynical for us to believe or even want that to happen. Life doesn't always imitate the movies. I proposed the title When Harry Dumped Sally as suitably nice. M did say that even she found the idea and the title depressing. It would make her lose all hope in love. Which probably means that it won't sell.
I've always harboured secret dreams of writing a screenplay. Why not write a cheap sequel to a cult classic. Goodness knows it has been done often enough before! I'll just go check on the availability of Rob Reiner to direct, and of course Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal to star......
29 May 2009
Eating: Some Commense Rules
Eating, previously one of life's simplest and most pleasurable activities, has become increasingly complicated. I have always adopted a simple philosophy towards eating which has served me well thus far: "eat first, worry about it later". When pressed, I would joke that the stress of worrying about what you eat will probably kill you faster than anything present in the food.
Joking aside, we have been given an incredible amount of dissenting advice regarding our diets. Previously, we were told about the dangers of fat and cholesterol only to find that the 'trans-fats' that replaced them in our diet (in products such as margarine), were even more deadly. Now we are told that carbohydrates are the bogeymen, the overconsumption of which is cause for much of the obesity that plagues Western society (Atkins diet anyone?). We should eat more fish because they contain Omega-3s which is the new holy grail for everything from reduced cancer risk to better brain cells. But fish may also contain harmful substances like mercury.
Michael Pollan, in his book In Defence of Food, nicely deflates the prevailing trend towards 'nutritionism' where food is not seen as food but as an item made up of calories and nutrients. He brutally de-bunks nutritionism, showing how it is unreliable at best, and bad science with links to the food and medical industries at its worst. Nutritionism, to a degree, has become a blanket excuse to create processed foods, with studies commissioned by the food industry showing nutritional benefits of whatever food they are asked to assess. Pollan states rather cynically that a qualified FDA health claim for any product amounts to a euphemism for "all but meaningless". By the end of the book, you are rather inclined to agree, especially when you read about a chair in "Chocolate Science" being endowed by the Mars Corporation at the University of California Davis.
One of the worst failings that Pollan documents involves the so-called 'lipid hypothesis' linking the rise in heart disease (and other illnesses) to consumption of fats and cholesterol. That led to a drastic change in diets - not necessarily for the better as it turns out. Pollan rightly points out the manichean nature of dietary advice - previously protein was bad and carbs were good, now carbs are bad and protiens are good. The only thing that is universally acclaimed to be generally pretty harmless and actually quite beneficial is leaves and fruit and that goes to the heart of Pollan's advice for what we should eat.
Pollan also rightly points out that the reductionist nature of nutritionism just doesn't work. Scientists enjoy isolating an individual vitamin, mineral or nutrient within a particular foodstuff and praising or blaming it for having beneficial or deleterious effects on your health, but ultimately foods themselves are highly complex agglomerations that defy analysis. So is it really the Omega 3 fatty acids alone that makes fish such a nutritional food? Or is it the Omega 3s working in conjunction with other individual proteins in fish that has some effect during the digestion process? The most basic but crucial thing that Pollan does is to emphasize that we have to once again think about food, as well food.
Ultimately, I have distilled from Pollan's book a small number of simple maxims with the aim of eating more healthily but also being able to enjoy food a lot more. He presents about two dozen or so simple and sensible general rules which you will be well advised to check out. After finishing the book I have resolved to:
Joking aside, we have been given an incredible amount of dissenting advice regarding our diets. Previously, we were told about the dangers of fat and cholesterol only to find that the 'trans-fats' that replaced them in our diet (in products such as margarine), were even more deadly. Now we are told that carbohydrates are the bogeymen, the overconsumption of which is cause for much of the obesity that plagues Western society (Atkins diet anyone?). We should eat more fish because they contain Omega-3s which is the new holy grail for everything from reduced cancer risk to better brain cells. But fish may also contain harmful substances like mercury.
Michael Pollan, in his book In Defence of Food, nicely deflates the prevailing trend towards 'nutritionism' where food is not seen as food but as an item made up of calories and nutrients. He brutally de-bunks nutritionism, showing how it is unreliable at best, and bad science with links to the food and medical industries at its worst. Nutritionism, to a degree, has become a blanket excuse to create processed foods, with studies commissioned by the food industry showing nutritional benefits of whatever food they are asked to assess. Pollan states rather cynically that a qualified FDA health claim for any product amounts to a euphemism for "all but meaningless". By the end of the book, you are rather inclined to agree, especially when you read about a chair in "Chocolate Science" being endowed by the Mars Corporation at the University of California Davis.
One of the worst failings that Pollan documents involves the so-called 'lipid hypothesis' linking the rise in heart disease (and other illnesses) to consumption of fats and cholesterol. That led to a drastic change in diets - not necessarily for the better as it turns out. Pollan rightly points out the manichean nature of dietary advice - previously protein was bad and carbs were good, now carbs are bad and protiens are good. The only thing that is universally acclaimed to be generally pretty harmless and actually quite beneficial is leaves and fruit and that goes to the heart of Pollan's advice for what we should eat.
Pollan also rightly points out that the reductionist nature of nutritionism just doesn't work. Scientists enjoy isolating an individual vitamin, mineral or nutrient within a particular foodstuff and praising or blaming it for having beneficial or deleterious effects on your health, but ultimately foods themselves are highly complex agglomerations that defy analysis. So is it really the Omega 3 fatty acids alone that makes fish such a nutritional food? Or is it the Omega 3s working in conjunction with other individual proteins in fish that has some effect during the digestion process? The most basic but crucial thing that Pollan does is to emphasize that we have to once again think about food, as well food.
Ultimately, I have distilled from Pollan's book a small number of simple maxims with the aim of eating more healthily but also being able to enjoy food a lot more. He presents about two dozen or so simple and sensible general rules which you will be well advised to check out. After finishing the book I have resolved to:
- Set aside specific time for eating as a sole activity and spend more time eating - no eating in front of the TV, or computer, or at a desk while finishing work.
- Have more meals with other people - good company and excellent conversation makes a meal that much more enjoyable, and actually reduces the amount you eat.
- No snacking - eat three square meals and avoid having little snacks in between. So no nuts, crisps, chicken wings etc.
- Stop eating junk food or fast food - there are far far better ways to spend $7 than on a upsized Big Mac Meal; there are also much better ways to spend $4 than on a pack of Lays potato chips.
- Eat more green, leafy vegetables - try having 2 servings of vegetables and 1 serving of meat for dinner instead of the other way round.
- Eat fruit more regularly - try to have freshly squeezed fruit juice at hawker centers/foodcourts. One serving of fruit after dinner.
- Cut down on the amount of meat you eat - fish and seafood might be better options. Perhaps choose a day where you can forgo meat entirely (a la Catholics on friday).
- Avoid any kind of food that looks like it is processed. If it didn't once look alive, don't buy it.
- Cut down on alcohol consumption - you don't have to go teetotal but binge drinking is generally a very bad idea. Also if you are going to drink, try a glass of red wine every evening rather than beer or spirits.
- Learn to cook - what better way of really understanding what on earth you are eating? Plus it will make you appreciate and enjoy food all the more.
- Taking supplements - the jury is still out whether supplements are really all that effective. However, it is also true that modern factory farming has resulted in foods that give much higher yields but lower nutrient values. It may be worth taking a multivitamin.
- Portions - Is it better to have five small meals a day rather than the traditional three solid meals? It is worth finding out the evidence on either side. Will it be too much of a hassle to change?
28 May 2009
All Roads Lead to Rome
It was the final that every neutral football fan wished for. Arguably the two top teams in the world going head to head for the right to be crowned European Champions. More than that, two teams who play open attacking football, with two of the best and most exciting players in the world in Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi competing to settle the issue of who is better once and for all in a personal duel on the pitch. The names of those on show dripped off the tongue: Henry, Eto'o, Messi, Iniesta, Ronaldo, Giggs, Rooney.
On paper, a truly Olympian struggle was promised at the Olympic stadium in Rome. What ensued was a compelling match, but unfortunately not one for the ages. It is not often that Sir Alex Ferguson can be accused of being tactically outmaneuvered, especially in a major final, but after Pep Guardiola's side took the lead, very much against the run of play, they played masterful possession football and strangled the life out of an erratic and disappointing Man United side that were almost thoroughly outplayed.
The pundits had given the advantage to United, particularly given the frailties of a Barcelona defence deprived of its two starting full backs and defensive rock Marquez. Sir Alex's side has shown they could contain Barcelona in the previous year's semi-finals, when a nil-nil stalemate was followed by a Paul Scholes stunner that put United through. It was expected that Barcelona would have more possession, but United's defensive solidity and ability to counter attack at pace would enable them to pierce the makeshift Barca defence.
United started the match with the confidence that comes from being the current champions of Europe, dominating possession in the opening exchanges, and wasting a few half chances, especially from Cristiano Ronaldo. As amazing as it sounds, the Barcelona front three barely had a touch on the ball between them for the first 10 minutes. United were then hit with the proverbial sucker punch. Iniesta was allowed to run through a gap in midfield far too easily, and played a weighted ball through to Eto'o who turned Vidic and squeezed a shot past Van Der Sar's near post. It was Barcelona's first meaningful attack of the match. It was disappointing defending by United and by Vidic in particular.
The goal clearly lifted Barcelona, who began to dominate possession, settling into their usual mercurial passing game that left the United players chasing shadows for a large part of the remainder of the half. The confidence only grew during the second half, as United was forced to throw caution to the wind. Tevez was brought on for an ineffectual Anderson in the hope that his attacking qualities might manufacture a breakthrough, but more importantly that his terrier like hounding and running might actually unsettle a Barcelona midfield that was stroking the ball about with supreme confidence.
Iniesta was particularly peerless in this regard, playing lovely little passes and neat one-twos that left his markers flummoxed. He was involved once again in the build up to an excellent Barca chance at the start of the second half, Man Utd's old tormentor Thierry Henry bursting through only for Van Der Sar to save smartly with his feet. At one point, his pinpoint passing, and general awareness led the commentator to ask rhetorically if he was even capable of misplaying a pass. The answer was yes, but not often.
Lionel Messi was also living up to his billing as a world class player, terrorizing the United with his direct slalom like running. Often the only way United could stop him was resorting to cutting him down. One such challenge led to a free kick at the edge of the area, and Xavi curled a lovely shot round the wall, only to see it carom off the upright. It was no surprise that it was Messi that supplied the coup de grace, from a pinpoint Xavi cross after United had given away possession cheaply and Evra only half cleared the ball. It was a superb ball into the box, but Messi still had to lean backwards while hanging in the air to guide the ball past a flailing Van Der Sar into the bottom corner of the net.
Credit must be given to Barcelona for their superb passing, and for the incessant pressure they put on United. Their makeshift backline was never much of a factor given their ability to close United down from up the field, and to starve them of space and possession. Gerard Pique, who only re-signed for Barca after failing to secure a first team place at United, had an excellent night, blocking a Park attempt on 2 minutes, and denying Ronaldo a clear shot that would have given United hope moments after Barca had taken a two goal lead. Beyond that, Vidic and Berbatov had headers off target, but United never really threatened the Barcelona goal in the closing stages.
Ultimately though, it was a surprisingly toothless performance from a United side that was lacking leadership, self-belief, and real quality on the day. What they would have given for a midfield enforcer in the Roy Keane mold, who could stamp his authority in the middle of the park, and harry Iniesta and Xavi. For all their other talents, Carrick can't tackle and man-marking are not the best attributes that Giggs or Anderson possess. The closest United have to that kind of a player in their current side is Darren Fletcher, who was suspended for the final and was sorely missed.
The entire United midfield was disappointing on the day, Carrick spraying passes all over the place, Anderson running aimlessly. Rooney was deployed first on the left, briefly led the line and ended the game on the right flank and cut a frustrated figure throughout. Ryan Giggs looked his age for probably the first time this season, looking tired and ragged by the early stages of the second half, as the Barcelona team continued to run circles around him. Paul Scholes should certainly have been brought on earlier - his intelligent runs and long range passing were sorely needed on a day when the United midfield was largely misfiring.
Tactically, United chopped and changed frequently, to little effect. Players often looking strangely clueless on the field. They started ostensibly with a 4-3-2-1 formation similar to Barca's that occasionally evolved into a 4-4-2 with Giggs tucking just behind Ronaldo up front. The 4-4-2 was singularly ineffectual, with the Barca midfield dominating United, so Ferguson brought Tevez on in a straight 4-4-2 with Giggs taking the place of Anderson in central midfield, Ronaldo moving to the flank and Rooney and Tevez pressing the Barca backline. That proved even worse, as Barca threatened to tear United to ribbons with their intelligent link up play, exploiting the gaps that United left as they pushed forward. Barca never tinkered with their tried and tested formation, looking comfortable playing their usual attacking and pressing game.
By the end of the game, Ferguson had his entire fab four of Rooney, Tevez, Berbatov, and Ronaldo on the field in what was effectively a 4-2-4 formation. It didn't make one jot of difference. United were a team lacking real leadership (Paul Scholes as the captain for the last twenty minutes?), any self-belief or even any fluency. There was to be no repeat of 1999 when United stole the trophy from under Bayern's nose due to a dogged refusal to give in. In 2009, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that they capitulated.
It was certainly not third time lucky for Ferguson, who despite his vast experience and supreme talent, has arguably been outplayed in all three Champions League finals he has been involved in. He was undoubtedly lucky in Barcelona in 1999 (brilliant substitutions aside) when Bayern bossed the game only to be hit by a double whammy in the last 3 minutes. Last year, Chelsea probably edged the game overall, despite United's domination of the first half - Drogba will be cursing the crossbar, and Terry will probably never be able to forget the nightmare of seeing what would be the winning penalty smack off the upright. Fergie ran out of luck this time round, flummoxed and well beaten by a truly marvelous Barcelona side.
On paper, a truly Olympian struggle was promised at the Olympic stadium in Rome. What ensued was a compelling match, but unfortunately not one for the ages. It is not often that Sir Alex Ferguson can be accused of being tactically outmaneuvered, especially in a major final, but after Pep Guardiola's side took the lead, very much against the run of play, they played masterful possession football and strangled the life out of an erratic and disappointing Man United side that were almost thoroughly outplayed.
The pundits had given the advantage to United, particularly given the frailties of a Barcelona defence deprived of its two starting full backs and defensive rock Marquez. Sir Alex's side has shown they could contain Barcelona in the previous year's semi-finals, when a nil-nil stalemate was followed by a Paul Scholes stunner that put United through. It was expected that Barcelona would have more possession, but United's defensive solidity and ability to counter attack at pace would enable them to pierce the makeshift Barca defence.
United started the match with the confidence that comes from being the current champions of Europe, dominating possession in the opening exchanges, and wasting a few half chances, especially from Cristiano Ronaldo. As amazing as it sounds, the Barcelona front three barely had a touch on the ball between them for the first 10 minutes. United were then hit with the proverbial sucker punch. Iniesta was allowed to run through a gap in midfield far too easily, and played a weighted ball through to Eto'o who turned Vidic and squeezed a shot past Van Der Sar's near post. It was Barcelona's first meaningful attack of the match. It was disappointing defending by United and by Vidic in particular.
The goal clearly lifted Barcelona, who began to dominate possession, settling into their usual mercurial passing game that left the United players chasing shadows for a large part of the remainder of the half. The confidence only grew during the second half, as United was forced to throw caution to the wind. Tevez was brought on for an ineffectual Anderson in the hope that his attacking qualities might manufacture a breakthrough, but more importantly that his terrier like hounding and running might actually unsettle a Barcelona midfield that was stroking the ball about with supreme confidence.
Iniesta was particularly peerless in this regard, playing lovely little passes and neat one-twos that left his markers flummoxed. He was involved once again in the build up to an excellent Barca chance at the start of the second half, Man Utd's old tormentor Thierry Henry bursting through only for Van Der Sar to save smartly with his feet. At one point, his pinpoint passing, and general awareness led the commentator to ask rhetorically if he was even capable of misplaying a pass. The answer was yes, but not often.
Lionel Messi was also living up to his billing as a world class player, terrorizing the United with his direct slalom like running. Often the only way United could stop him was resorting to cutting him down. One such challenge led to a free kick at the edge of the area, and Xavi curled a lovely shot round the wall, only to see it carom off the upright. It was no surprise that it was Messi that supplied the coup de grace, from a pinpoint Xavi cross after United had given away possession cheaply and Evra only half cleared the ball. It was a superb ball into the box, but Messi still had to lean backwards while hanging in the air to guide the ball past a flailing Van Der Sar into the bottom corner of the net.
Credit must be given to Barcelona for their superb passing, and for the incessant pressure they put on United. Their makeshift backline was never much of a factor given their ability to close United down from up the field, and to starve them of space and possession. Gerard Pique, who only re-signed for Barca after failing to secure a first team place at United, had an excellent night, blocking a Park attempt on 2 minutes, and denying Ronaldo a clear shot that would have given United hope moments after Barca had taken a two goal lead. Beyond that, Vidic and Berbatov had headers off target, but United never really threatened the Barcelona goal in the closing stages.
Ultimately though, it was a surprisingly toothless performance from a United side that was lacking leadership, self-belief, and real quality on the day. What they would have given for a midfield enforcer in the Roy Keane mold, who could stamp his authority in the middle of the park, and harry Iniesta and Xavi. For all their other talents, Carrick can't tackle and man-marking are not the best attributes that Giggs or Anderson possess. The closest United have to that kind of a player in their current side is Darren Fletcher, who was suspended for the final and was sorely missed.
The entire United midfield was disappointing on the day, Carrick spraying passes all over the place, Anderson running aimlessly. Rooney was deployed first on the left, briefly led the line and ended the game on the right flank and cut a frustrated figure throughout. Ryan Giggs looked his age for probably the first time this season, looking tired and ragged by the early stages of the second half, as the Barcelona team continued to run circles around him. Paul Scholes should certainly have been brought on earlier - his intelligent runs and long range passing were sorely needed on a day when the United midfield was largely misfiring.
Tactically, United chopped and changed frequently, to little effect. Players often looking strangely clueless on the field. They started ostensibly with a 4-3-2-1 formation similar to Barca's that occasionally evolved into a 4-4-2 with Giggs tucking just behind Ronaldo up front. The 4-4-2 was singularly ineffectual, with the Barca midfield dominating United, so Ferguson brought Tevez on in a straight 4-4-2 with Giggs taking the place of Anderson in central midfield, Ronaldo moving to the flank and Rooney and Tevez pressing the Barca backline. That proved even worse, as Barca threatened to tear United to ribbons with their intelligent link up play, exploiting the gaps that United left as they pushed forward. Barca never tinkered with their tried and tested formation, looking comfortable playing their usual attacking and pressing game.
By the end of the game, Ferguson had his entire fab four of Rooney, Tevez, Berbatov, and Ronaldo on the field in what was effectively a 4-2-4 formation. It didn't make one jot of difference. United were a team lacking real leadership (Paul Scholes as the captain for the last twenty minutes?), any self-belief or even any fluency. There was to be no repeat of 1999 when United stole the trophy from under Bayern's nose due to a dogged refusal to give in. In 2009, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that they capitulated.
It was certainly not third time lucky for Ferguson, who despite his vast experience and supreme talent, has arguably been outplayed in all three Champions League finals he has been involved in. He was undoubtedly lucky in Barcelona in 1999 (brilliant substitutions aside) when Bayern bossed the game only to be hit by a double whammy in the last 3 minutes. Last year, Chelsea probably edged the game overall, despite United's domination of the first half - Drogba will be cursing the crossbar, and Terry will probably never be able to forget the nightmare of seeing what would be the winning penalty smack off the upright. Fergie ran out of luck this time round, flummoxed and well beaten by a truly marvelous Barcelona side.
26 May 2009
Telegraph 100 Essential Novels
It is in the vogue for newspapers to come up with lists of novels that everyone should read now, and the latest list I have found is on the Telegraph website. I probably only discovered it so late because I don't read the Telegraph as a general rule but was directed there when a friend sent me a link about a new Jane Austen biography, claiming, you guessed it, to have found that mysterious man that broke her heart and eventually led her becoming the ultimate literary chick lit novelist.
The Telegraph's selections are:
100 The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkein
99 To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
98 The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore
97 The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
96 One Thousand and One Nights by Anonymous
95 The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
94 Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie
93 Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John le Carré
92 Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
91 The Tale of Genji by Lady Murasaki
90 Under the Net by Iris Murdoch
89 The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing
88 Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin
87 On the Road by Jack Kerouac
86 Old Goriot by Honoré de Balzac
85 The Red and the Black by Stendhal
84 The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
83 Germinal by Emile Zola
82 The Stranger by Albert Camus
81The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
80 Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey
79 Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
78 Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
77 Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
76 The Trial by Franz Kafka
75 Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee
74 Waiting for the Mahatma by RK Narayan
73 All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Remarque
72 Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler
71 The Dream of the Red Chamber by Cao Xueqin
70 The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
69 If On a Winter’s Night a Traveller by Italo Calvino
68 Crash by JG Ballard
67 A Bend in the River by VS Naipaul
66 Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
65 Dr Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
64 The Cairo Trilogy by Naguib Mahfouz
63 The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
62 Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift
61 My Name Is Red by Orhan Pamuk
60 One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez
59 London Fields by Martin Amis
58 The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño
57 The Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse
56 The Tin Drum by Günter Grass
55 Austerlitz by WG Sebald
54 Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
53 The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
52 The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger
51 Underworld by Don DeLillo
50 Beloved by Toni Morrison
49 The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
48 Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin
47The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
46 The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark
45 The Voyeur by Alain Robbe-Grillet
44 Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre
43 The Rabbit books by John Updike
42 The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
41 The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
40 The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
39 Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
38 The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald
37 The Warden by Anthony Trollope
36 Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
35 Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis
34 The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
33 Clarissa by Samuel Richardson
32 A Dance to the Music of Time by Anthony Powell
31 Suite Francaise by Irène Némirovsky
30 Atonement by Ian McEwan
29 Life: a User’s Manual by Georges Perec
28 Tom Jones by Henry Fielding
27 Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
26 Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell
25 The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
24 Ulysses by James Joyce
23 Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
22 A Passage to India by EM Forster
21 1984 by George Orwell
20 Tristram Shandy by Laurence Sterne
19 The War of the Worlds by HG Wells
18 Scoop by Evelyn Waugh
17 Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
16 Brighton Rock by Graham Greene
15 The Code of the Woosters by PG Wodehouse
14 Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
13 David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
12 Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
11 Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
10 Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
9 Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
8 Disgrace by JM Coetzee
7 Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
6 In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust
5 Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
4 The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
3 Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
2 Moby-Dick by Herman Melville
1 Middlemarch by George Eliot
I've personally managed almost a quarter of them. 24 out of 100. Mostly classic choices on the list but some odd ones - Waiting for the Mahatma by R.K Narayan? The Savage Detective by Robert Bolano? Strangely, it is those odd ones that I want to seek out first, if only to slake my curiousity as to why they were included!
The Telegraph's selections are:
100 The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkein
99 To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
98 The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore
97 The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
96 One Thousand and One Nights by Anonymous
95 The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
94 Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie
93 Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John le Carré
92 Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
91 The Tale of Genji by Lady Murasaki
90 Under the Net by Iris Murdoch
89 The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing
88 Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin
87 On the Road by Jack Kerouac
86 Old Goriot by Honoré de Balzac
85 The Red and the Black by Stendhal
84 The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
83 Germinal by Emile Zola
82 The Stranger by Albert Camus
81The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
80 Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey
79 Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
78 Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
77 Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
76 The Trial by Franz Kafka
75 Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee
74 Waiting for the Mahatma by RK Narayan
73 All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Remarque
72 Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler
71 The Dream of the Red Chamber by Cao Xueqin
70 The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
69 If On a Winter’s Night a Traveller by Italo Calvino
68 Crash by JG Ballard
67 A Bend in the River by VS Naipaul
66 Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
65 Dr Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
64 The Cairo Trilogy by Naguib Mahfouz
63 The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
62 Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift
61 My Name Is Red by Orhan Pamuk
60 One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez
59 London Fields by Martin Amis
58 The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño
57 The Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse
56 The Tin Drum by Günter Grass
55 Austerlitz by WG Sebald
54 Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
53 The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
52 The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger
51 Underworld by Don DeLillo
50 Beloved by Toni Morrison
49 The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
48 Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin
47The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
46 The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark
45 The Voyeur by Alain Robbe-Grillet
44 Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre
43 The Rabbit books by John Updike
42 The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
41 The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
40 The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
39 Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
38 The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald
37 The Warden by Anthony Trollope
36 Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
35 Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis
34 The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
33 Clarissa by Samuel Richardson
32 A Dance to the Music of Time by Anthony Powell
31 Suite Francaise by Irène Némirovsky
30 Atonement by Ian McEwan
29 Life: a User’s Manual by Georges Perec
28 Tom Jones by Henry Fielding
27 Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
26 Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell
25 The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
24 Ulysses by James Joyce
23 Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
22 A Passage to India by EM Forster
21 1984 by George Orwell
20 Tristram Shandy by Laurence Sterne
19 The War of the Worlds by HG Wells
18 Scoop by Evelyn Waugh
17 Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
16 Brighton Rock by Graham Greene
15 The Code of the Woosters by PG Wodehouse
14 Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
13 David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
12 Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
11 Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
10 Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
9 Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
8 Disgrace by JM Coetzee
7 Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
6 In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust
5 Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
4 The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
3 Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
2 Moby-Dick by Herman Melville
1 Middlemarch by George Eliot
I've personally managed almost a quarter of them. 24 out of 100. Mostly classic choices on the list but some odd ones - Waiting for the Mahatma by R.K Narayan? The Savage Detective by Robert Bolano? Strangely, it is those odd ones that I want to seek out first, if only to slake my curiousity as to why they were included!
12 May 2009
Much Ado About Nothing
There is something that makes outdoor performances of Shakespeare highly agreeable. It is of course worth bearing in mind that the Globe Theater itself was open to the elements. The thought of spending an evening amidst the greenery of Fort Canning sipping wine was a highly enticing one, so I jumped at the chance of catching the Singapore Repertory Theater's outdoor performance of Much Ado About Nothing with Karin.
Of course, I had first fallen in love with outdoor Shakespeare performances while at Oxford, where summer lawn productions - especially of Shakespeare - were a common feature of Trinity term. There is something quite magical about watching a play in the small intimate surroundings of an Oxford garden, in the time just between dusk and twilight that I will never forget. Of course, this production was on a much bigger scale, with lighting and sound equipment to match, so I had to struggle not to compare the two.
Probably the most hilarious moment I have ever come across in an open air production of Shakespeare was when I watched a amateur production of Romeo and Juliet whilst visiting my aptly named friend Juliet in Devon. It was a beautiful setting near Devon Castle and all would have been well if not for a steady drizzle which began towards the end of Act II and began getting heavier as Act III wore on. It was thus with a significantly ironic glance up to the already opened up heavens that the actor playing Lord Capulet uttered the lines near the end of Act III:
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright.
with an appropriately heavy emphasis, given the circumstances, on 'rains downright'. The play was moved indoors shortly afterwards.
But I digress. Singapore doesn't quite face the problem of persistent rain that the UK does, but an unseasonably hot May evening did temper my enjoyment of the play somewhat. It was downright muggy and left everyone sweating through the entirety of the play, futile efforts at fanning oneself with the program being largely ineffectual. One could only pity the cast members, especially the male characters, who were dressed up in stifling long sleeved navy whites.
The staging and costuming was rather interestingly and elegantly done. A 1920s Singapore colonial era setting and feel was chosen for the play and fitted quite well, on the whole. The set was rather beautiful and was designed in the form of the exterior of colonial style bungalow complete with large slatted swinging doors leading to the 'inside' of the house, a small swimming pool which is put to good use in the play itself, and the natural greenery of Fort Canning surrounding the stage being the garden of the bungalow itself.
The costumes were similarly sumptuous, with the men in navy dress white uniforms, complete with peak caps and epaulettes, and the ladies in lovely full length cocktail dresses. The highlight for me must surely be a 1920s style uber-retro full body swimming costume that Benedick is made to wear in Act III.
Overall, one minor gripe was the whole attempt at the colonial period thing was overdone at times, especially attempts to include chinese/nonya elements into the mix. Having traditional erhu music played during the funeral scenes in a misguided attempt to enhance the mood led to a sense of melodrama, as was having everyone wear traditional chinese/nonya garb at the wedding, complete with fancy headress for Hero. You would not expect a uppity British colonial to dress in any such way, so it was not keeping in character with the setting, and led to a bit of a unnecessary hodge podge feel.
It is no surprise that when an operatic adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing was made, it was titled Beatrice and Benedick. For better or for worse although not the main love story of the play, they stand as the main comic pillars. Claudio and Hero's love story might be the main narrative centerpiece, but their somewhat soppy wooing of each other followed by the enormously melodramatic renunciation (followed by Hero's faked death) hardly make them compelling characters.
Adrian Pang again shows wonderful stage presence as an ever playful Benedick. His experience in performing Shakespeare clearly comes through in his wonderfully witty deliveries, particularly his observance of the pauses and comic timing that is essential to Shakespearean humour. He was also helped by begin given some of the funniest comic set pieces in the play, notably one where he sneaks around the swimming pool and tries to hide behind a plant to overhear his friends conversing about Beatrice and another when he has to grab whatever headgear is at hand in order to cover up his crown jewels after a strategically placed towel is whipped away (Adrian Pang was wearing skin coloured briefs just in case a wardrobe malfunction happened).
Wendy Kweh's Beatrice to Pang's Benedict was very much his catty and teasing equal in the scenes that they were playing off each other, but she was less effective on her own. Beatrice is in many ways one of Shakespeare's strongest female characters (Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew and perhaps the sisters Goneril and Regan from King Lear are the only ones that can even remotely rival her). Kweh nicely brought out Beatrice's independent streak but her reading of the script sometimes lacked the subtlety and dramatic pauses necessary to really bring out the full unbridled wit. That is just a small gripe, all things consider, in a largely effective and really quite fiery performance.
Given the complexity, fun and flair of Beatrice and Benedick, the actors playing Claudio and Hero always risk being upstaged. Julie Wee does her best in what is largely a cardboard character role, playing the lovely chaste besotten bride adequately. I was more disappointed with Jason Chan, who overplayed Claudio, descending into melodrama when denouncing his bride on their wedding day, and similarly lacking subtlety and range in expressing remorse (at his inadvertant betrayal) and joy (at discovering her to be alive). Prancing around and declaiming loudly a good Shakespearean hero doth not make.
The play was bolstered by an excellent supporting cast. Particular praise must go to a suitably villanious Don John (in a small, largely cliched role), and an effective Don Pedro, who served as an important foil to Claudio and Benedick. I was far more ambivalent about Leonato - especially in the more dramatic scenes involving Hero's denouncement. The play as a whole certainly handled the comedic elements far more effectively that the dramatic ones. The Watch also seemed to garner some laughs and more half-hearted ones when they could have threatened to steal the show.
Overall, it was certainly a pretty entertaining evening. For me the witty banter between Adrian Pang's Benedick and Wendy Kueh's Beatrice was fun enough to just about warrant the price of admission (a relatively cheap $25 student ticket in my case). The beautifully designed sets and costumes were a real bonus. Still, I never thought of Much Ado About Nothing as one of Shakespeare's stronger comedies and me and Karin agreed that the play as a whole lacked any high note (apart from seeing Adrian Pang almost totally naked, complete with six pack for the ladies). Still, a enjoyable, if humid evening out.
Of course, I had first fallen in love with outdoor Shakespeare performances while at Oxford, where summer lawn productions - especially of Shakespeare - were a common feature of Trinity term. There is something quite magical about watching a play in the small intimate surroundings of an Oxford garden, in the time just between dusk and twilight that I will never forget. Of course, this production was on a much bigger scale, with lighting and sound equipment to match, so I had to struggle not to compare the two.
Probably the most hilarious moment I have ever come across in an open air production of Shakespeare was when I watched a amateur production of Romeo and Juliet whilst visiting my aptly named friend Juliet in Devon. It was a beautiful setting near Devon Castle and all would have been well if not for a steady drizzle which began towards the end of Act II and began getting heavier as Act III wore on. It was thus with a significantly ironic glance up to the already opened up heavens that the actor playing Lord Capulet uttered the lines near the end of Act III:
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright.
with an appropriately heavy emphasis, given the circumstances, on 'rains downright'. The play was moved indoors shortly afterwards.
But I digress. Singapore doesn't quite face the problem of persistent rain that the UK does, but an unseasonably hot May evening did temper my enjoyment of the play somewhat. It was downright muggy and left everyone sweating through the entirety of the play, futile efforts at fanning oneself with the program being largely ineffectual. One could only pity the cast members, especially the male characters, who were dressed up in stifling long sleeved navy whites.
The staging and costuming was rather interestingly and elegantly done. A 1920s Singapore colonial era setting and feel was chosen for the play and fitted quite well, on the whole. The set was rather beautiful and was designed in the form of the exterior of colonial style bungalow complete with large slatted swinging doors leading to the 'inside' of the house, a small swimming pool which is put to good use in the play itself, and the natural greenery of Fort Canning surrounding the stage being the garden of the bungalow itself.
The costumes were similarly sumptuous, with the men in navy dress white uniforms, complete with peak caps and epaulettes, and the ladies in lovely full length cocktail dresses. The highlight for me must surely be a 1920s style uber-retro full body swimming costume that Benedick is made to wear in Act III.
Overall, one minor gripe was the whole attempt at the colonial period thing was overdone at times, especially attempts to include chinese/nonya elements into the mix. Having traditional erhu music played during the funeral scenes in a misguided attempt to enhance the mood led to a sense of melodrama, as was having everyone wear traditional chinese/nonya garb at the wedding, complete with fancy headress for Hero. You would not expect a uppity British colonial to dress in any such way, so it was not keeping in character with the setting, and led to a bit of a unnecessary hodge podge feel.
It is no surprise that when an operatic adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing was made, it was titled Beatrice and Benedick. For better or for worse although not the main love story of the play, they stand as the main comic pillars. Claudio and Hero's love story might be the main narrative centerpiece, but their somewhat soppy wooing of each other followed by the enormously melodramatic renunciation (followed by Hero's faked death) hardly make them compelling characters.
Adrian Pang again shows wonderful stage presence as an ever playful Benedick. His experience in performing Shakespeare clearly comes through in his wonderfully witty deliveries, particularly his observance of the pauses and comic timing that is essential to Shakespearean humour. He was also helped by begin given some of the funniest comic set pieces in the play, notably one where he sneaks around the swimming pool and tries to hide behind a plant to overhear his friends conversing about Beatrice and another when he has to grab whatever headgear is at hand in order to cover up his crown jewels after a strategically placed towel is whipped away (Adrian Pang was wearing skin coloured briefs just in case a wardrobe malfunction happened).
Wendy Kweh's Beatrice to Pang's Benedict was very much his catty and teasing equal in the scenes that they were playing off each other, but she was less effective on her own. Beatrice is in many ways one of Shakespeare's strongest female characters (Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew and perhaps the sisters Goneril and Regan from King Lear are the only ones that can even remotely rival her). Kweh nicely brought out Beatrice's independent streak but her reading of the script sometimes lacked the subtlety and dramatic pauses necessary to really bring out the full unbridled wit. That is just a small gripe, all things consider, in a largely effective and really quite fiery performance.
Given the complexity, fun and flair of Beatrice and Benedick, the actors playing Claudio and Hero always risk being upstaged. Julie Wee does her best in what is largely a cardboard character role, playing the lovely chaste besotten bride adequately. I was more disappointed with Jason Chan, who overplayed Claudio, descending into melodrama when denouncing his bride on their wedding day, and similarly lacking subtlety and range in expressing remorse (at his inadvertant betrayal) and joy (at discovering her to be alive). Prancing around and declaiming loudly a good Shakespearean hero doth not make.
The play was bolstered by an excellent supporting cast. Particular praise must go to a suitably villanious Don John (in a small, largely cliched role), and an effective Don Pedro, who served as an important foil to Claudio and Benedick. I was far more ambivalent about Leonato - especially in the more dramatic scenes involving Hero's denouncement. The play as a whole certainly handled the comedic elements far more effectively that the dramatic ones. The Watch also seemed to garner some laughs and more half-hearted ones when they could have threatened to steal the show.
Overall, it was certainly a pretty entertaining evening. For me the witty banter between Adrian Pang's Benedick and Wendy Kueh's Beatrice was fun enough to just about warrant the price of admission (a relatively cheap $25 student ticket in my case). The beautifully designed sets and costumes were a real bonus. Still, I never thought of Much Ado About Nothing as one of Shakespeare's stronger comedies and me and Karin agreed that the play as a whole lacked any high note (apart from seeing Adrian Pang almost totally naked, complete with six pack for the ladies). Still, a enjoyable, if humid evening out.
10 May 2009
Acts and Omissions
It is currently far more acceptable to allow instances of passive euthanasia (allowing someone to die by withholding treatment), as compared to active euthanasia (injecting them with a lethal drug that would prematurely end their lives). This is partly linked to our strong inclinations towards the sanctity of life. While many would be squeamish at actively taking a role in causing a death (even if acting on a person's wishes), they are less likely to feel the same way about causing a death in an indirect way (e.g. withholding potential treatment).
This can be clearly seen in the responses to the classic runaway cart scenario. In the scenario, there is a runaway cart hurtling down some tracks. It is currently headed for a group of four workers in the distance, who are too far away to warn and too preoccupied to notice in time to get out of the way. However, you can throw a switch diverting the cart onto a separate set of tracks which would spare the four workers, however, in doing so a single individual would be killed. Most people would find it acceptable to throw the switch.
However, in a separate scenario, the same cart is hurtling towards the same four people, but the only way to stop it is to push a bystander next to you onto the tracks. He happens to be quite a large individual with the bulk necessary to stop the cart. If you throw yourself on the tracks, it would be insufficient to stop the cart entirely and the four workers would still die. In this latter case, most people would not push the person onto the tracks to save the four people. The only fundamental difference is whether you would be directly on indirectly causing the death of one person in saving the four.
So this difference over the direct vs. indirect causation of death is deeply held and can seem to translate to a doctrine of acts and omissions. So I play an active role if I administer an injection or prescribe a cocktail of drugs which the patient then takes (note in this case I am merely giving the patient the means to end their life). A passive role would be to 'let nature take its course' for example by withholding drugs so a patient would die 'naturally' from an illness. Studies have shown that many doctors (and nurses) often carry out the latter for infants with severely deformities, for example, or in prescribing large doses of painkillers that will hasten death but provide some comfort in the case of terminal illnesses. Some nurses even allow very elderly patients in nursing homes to succumb to treatable illnesses such as pneumonia, rather that subject them to intrusive medical care, particularly if that patient has been ill a number of times.
Two classic contrasting examples illustrate our strange understanding of acts and omissions. The first is that of 'Baby Doe', a baby born with severe Down's syndrome, but also an oesophagus that was not fully formed. The baby was thus not able to digest food. An operation could be performed to fully connect the oesophagus which would allow for the normal intake of food but Baby Doe's parents requested that the operation not be performed. The baby died five days later after two courts upheld the parent's request. That the baby could have survived if the operation had been performed is not in doubt, though he would have faced severe mental deficiencies.
Compare this to the case of Samuel Linares, a young toddler that swallowed an object that became lodged in his throat. He was rushed to hospital but suffered severe brain damage due to the lack of oxygen intake to his brain. He was only kept alive by a respirator, and was comatose for over nine months, after which the hospital recommended that he be placed in a long term care unit, as it was unlikely that he would ever regain consciousness. His parents' request that he be taken off the respirator were ignored. Eventually, his father, armed with a pistol, forced his way into the ward and disconnected the respirator personally, cradling Samuel in his arms until the baby died. He then surrendered himself, weeping uncontrollably, to the police.
The two cases are especially illustrative because if both babies had lived, there is little doubt that Baby Doe would have a significantly better quality of life. Given Samuel Linares was in what was effectively a persistent vegetative state, and doctors were unsure if he would ever regain consciousness, it is doubtful if you can say he even had a quality of life at all. (A British High Court Judge made a similar remark when ruling about Anthony Bland, a football fan in a persistent comatose state as a result of the Hillsborough Stadium disaster).
Does it make sense that we allow Baby Doe's parents to effectively consign him to death (by not giving permission for the operation) while refusing to allow Samuel Linares' parents to make a decision allowing for their son to die peacefully by removing the respirator that was sustaining him? If one viewed the respirator as an artificial form of intervention that is sustaining Samuel's life, then one can argue that the parents should have a decision in stating that he should not be put on a respirator in the first place (a rejection of intervention to save life), just as Baby Doe's parents refused the operation (which was a rejection of a life saving intervention). If we agree that both should have the decision, why should we not allow Linares' parents to pull the plug on the respirator, assuming that doctors had done all they could, and it was unknowable and even doubtful if Samuel would ever wake up?
This can be clearly seen in the responses to the classic runaway cart scenario. In the scenario, there is a runaway cart hurtling down some tracks. It is currently headed for a group of four workers in the distance, who are too far away to warn and too preoccupied to notice in time to get out of the way. However, you can throw a switch diverting the cart onto a separate set of tracks which would spare the four workers, however, in doing so a single individual would be killed. Most people would find it acceptable to throw the switch.
However, in a separate scenario, the same cart is hurtling towards the same four people, but the only way to stop it is to push a bystander next to you onto the tracks. He happens to be quite a large individual with the bulk necessary to stop the cart. If you throw yourself on the tracks, it would be insufficient to stop the cart entirely and the four workers would still die. In this latter case, most people would not push the person onto the tracks to save the four people. The only fundamental difference is whether you would be directly on indirectly causing the death of one person in saving the four.
So this difference over the direct vs. indirect causation of death is deeply held and can seem to translate to a doctrine of acts and omissions. So I play an active role if I administer an injection or prescribe a cocktail of drugs which the patient then takes (note in this case I am merely giving the patient the means to end their life). A passive role would be to 'let nature take its course' for example by withholding drugs so a patient would die 'naturally' from an illness. Studies have shown that many doctors (and nurses) often carry out the latter for infants with severely deformities, for example, or in prescribing large doses of painkillers that will hasten death but provide some comfort in the case of terminal illnesses. Some nurses even allow very elderly patients in nursing homes to succumb to treatable illnesses such as pneumonia, rather that subject them to intrusive medical care, particularly if that patient has been ill a number of times.
Two classic contrasting examples illustrate our strange understanding of acts and omissions. The first is that of 'Baby Doe', a baby born with severe Down's syndrome, but also an oesophagus that was not fully formed. The baby was thus not able to digest food. An operation could be performed to fully connect the oesophagus which would allow for the normal intake of food but Baby Doe's parents requested that the operation not be performed. The baby died five days later after two courts upheld the parent's request. That the baby could have survived if the operation had been performed is not in doubt, though he would have faced severe mental deficiencies.
Compare this to the case of Samuel Linares, a young toddler that swallowed an object that became lodged in his throat. He was rushed to hospital but suffered severe brain damage due to the lack of oxygen intake to his brain. He was only kept alive by a respirator, and was comatose for over nine months, after which the hospital recommended that he be placed in a long term care unit, as it was unlikely that he would ever regain consciousness. His parents' request that he be taken off the respirator were ignored. Eventually, his father, armed with a pistol, forced his way into the ward and disconnected the respirator personally, cradling Samuel in his arms until the baby died. He then surrendered himself, weeping uncontrollably, to the police.
The two cases are especially illustrative because if both babies had lived, there is little doubt that Baby Doe would have a significantly better quality of life. Given Samuel Linares was in what was effectively a persistent vegetative state, and doctors were unsure if he would ever regain consciousness, it is doubtful if you can say he even had a quality of life at all. (A British High Court Judge made a similar remark when ruling about Anthony Bland, a football fan in a persistent comatose state as a result of the Hillsborough Stadium disaster).
Does it make sense that we allow Baby Doe's parents to effectively consign him to death (by not giving permission for the operation) while refusing to allow Samuel Linares' parents to make a decision allowing for their son to die peacefully by removing the respirator that was sustaining him? If one viewed the respirator as an artificial form of intervention that is sustaining Samuel's life, then one can argue that the parents should have a decision in stating that he should not be put on a respirator in the first place (a rejection of intervention to save life), just as Baby Doe's parents refused the operation (which was a rejection of a life saving intervention). If we agree that both should have the decision, why should we not allow Linares' parents to pull the plug on the respirator, assuming that doctors had done all they could, and it was unknowable and even doubtful if Samuel would ever wake up?
17 April 2009
Science as Magic (or Religion)
It was Arthur C. Clarke who proposed, as one of his three 'laws', that a civilisation, coming into contact with science and technology far in advance of them, would view such technology as magic. This idea is hardly a novel one, and anyone who has read the tragic tale of Cortez and his small band of conquistadors overcoming the mighty Aztec empire will clearly see its antecedents. The Aztecs, unable to comprehend Spanish technology such as guns, came to view the conquistadors as reincarnated Gods with predictably disastrous consequences for themselves.
The supposedly opposing poles of Science and Magic has long provided a powerful theme for Science Fiction and Fantasy writers. A pioneer in this, aided by the fact that she was working in both the Science Fiction and Fantasy fields, was Andre Norton, most notably in her Witch World series of novels.
In those novels, a technologically advanced civilisation, fleeing some kind of self-generated catastrophe that has made their homeworld uninhabitable, enters a much more primitive world through a portal, seeking to use their more advanced technology to subjugate the native inhabitants and claim it for their own. However, they are opposed by a matriarchal society whose leaders are witches and able to harness magic (actual magic, not the science in disguise variety).
A new and novel treatment of this ongoing theme is Sharon Shinn's Samaria series of novels, particularly her second novel, Jovah's Angels. In a marvelous twist of irony, she takes the two typically opposing poles of science and mysticism and welds them together in one sure stroke. Our modern scientific way of thinking is perceived to have been borne out of the enlightenment, which involved a total rejection of mysticism and religious dogma. But what if science were the source of mysticism and religion?
In Samaria all beings worship the god Jovah (the parallel with Jehovah is not coincidental). A special group of beings with wings - Angels - are given the task of ensuring society in Samaria is harmonious. These angels can intercede with Jovah by 'praying', for example to change weather patterns, ask for seeds to be sent down and even medical supplies in times of plague or illiness.
However, Jovah also demands obedience from its subjects as any good god would. To prove that the peoples of Samaria still live in harmony, a Gloria must be sung every year led by the Archangel and his Angelica or spouse, with representatives from each of the many races that live on the planet. Three specially appointed prophets 'speak' to Jovah and intercede with him in some long forgotten tongue using some special device.
Shinn's genius is that Jovah is no god but is the computer of the interstellar ship that brought the original colonists to Samaria. The prophets use a simple keyboard to correspond with the God, and the Angels' - beings created through genetic engineering at the dawn of Samarian colonization - prayers are picked up by Jovah's long range sensors where the computer triggers the necessary responses. Control of the weather is enabled through influencing the planet's upper atmosphere, seeds and medicines can be released and dropped from the ship's massive storage hangers, and if the Samarians choose to disobey, the ship's lasers can smite a mighty hole in the planet below.
This is Clarke's third law brought to spectacular life, and Shinn's strong characterization, and utilization of biblical terminology lends the first two books in the series a really strong feel. The implications are strongly felt but neatly sidestepped. Alleluia, despite the realization that everything she believed and worshiped if not quite a lie then is undoubtedly drastically wrong, decides to hide the truth. Samaria cannot know because the implications would be immense - and catastrophic.
Still, given the slow rise of technology (which the original settlers had renounced as being the root of evil), there will eventually come a time when the peoples of Samaria will begin to question the mythology and religion they held so blindly. More fundamentally, it would only take the first telescope pointed up at the Samarian night sky to reveal the orbiting spaceship and raise fundamental questions that will not be left unanswered.
A long running jibe at the irrationality of religion is to posit that there is a giant teacup orbiting the outer edge of the solar system, and that it will eventually bring out the annihilation of the earth. For the people of Samaria, it is a spaceship not a teacup. Perhaps, mankind should not be so quick to laugh, and as we continue to peer out into the darker reaches of our universe, we might just find some hint as to the beginnings of our creation. Now that is a kind of faith in itself.
The supposedly opposing poles of Science and Magic has long provided a powerful theme for Science Fiction and Fantasy writers. A pioneer in this, aided by the fact that she was working in both the Science Fiction and Fantasy fields, was Andre Norton, most notably in her Witch World series of novels.
In those novels, a technologically advanced civilisation, fleeing some kind of self-generated catastrophe that has made their homeworld uninhabitable, enters a much more primitive world through a portal, seeking to use their more advanced technology to subjugate the native inhabitants and claim it for their own. However, they are opposed by a matriarchal society whose leaders are witches and able to harness magic (actual magic, not the science in disguise variety).
A new and novel treatment of this ongoing theme is Sharon Shinn's Samaria series of novels, particularly her second novel, Jovah's Angels. In a marvelous twist of irony, she takes the two typically opposing poles of science and mysticism and welds them together in one sure stroke. Our modern scientific way of thinking is perceived to have been borne out of the enlightenment, which involved a total rejection of mysticism and religious dogma. But what if science were the source of mysticism and religion?
In Samaria all beings worship the god Jovah (the parallel with Jehovah is not coincidental). A special group of beings with wings - Angels - are given the task of ensuring society in Samaria is harmonious. These angels can intercede with Jovah by 'praying', for example to change weather patterns, ask for seeds to be sent down and even medical supplies in times of plague or illiness.
However, Jovah also demands obedience from its subjects as any good god would. To prove that the peoples of Samaria still live in harmony, a Gloria must be sung every year led by the Archangel and his Angelica or spouse, with representatives from each of the many races that live on the planet. Three specially appointed prophets 'speak' to Jovah and intercede with him in some long forgotten tongue using some special device.
Shinn's genius is that Jovah is no god but is the computer of the interstellar ship that brought the original colonists to Samaria. The prophets use a simple keyboard to correspond with the God, and the Angels' - beings created through genetic engineering at the dawn of Samarian colonization - prayers are picked up by Jovah's long range sensors where the computer triggers the necessary responses. Control of the weather is enabled through influencing the planet's upper atmosphere, seeds and medicines can be released and dropped from the ship's massive storage hangers, and if the Samarians choose to disobey, the ship's lasers can smite a mighty hole in the planet below.
This is Clarke's third law brought to spectacular life, and Shinn's strong characterization, and utilization of biblical terminology lends the first two books in the series a really strong feel. The implications are strongly felt but neatly sidestepped. Alleluia, despite the realization that everything she believed and worshiped if not quite a lie then is undoubtedly drastically wrong, decides to hide the truth. Samaria cannot know because the implications would be immense - and catastrophic.
Still, given the slow rise of technology (which the original settlers had renounced as being the root of evil), there will eventually come a time when the peoples of Samaria will begin to question the mythology and religion they held so blindly. More fundamentally, it would only take the first telescope pointed up at the Samarian night sky to reveal the orbiting spaceship and raise fundamental questions that will not be left unanswered.
A long running jibe at the irrationality of religion is to posit that there is a giant teacup orbiting the outer edge of the solar system, and that it will eventually bring out the annihilation of the earth. For the people of Samaria, it is a spaceship not a teacup. Perhaps, mankind should not be so quick to laugh, and as we continue to peer out into the darker reaches of our universe, we might just find some hint as to the beginnings of our creation. Now that is a kind of faith in itself.
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