Jarvis Cocker discusses , “The John Lennon Letters.”

In the Saturday Guardian yesterday, (13^th October), Jarvis Cocker reviewed the new tome about one of the Beatles, John Lennon. Hunter Davies, who wrote the first Beatles biography, has collated many of John Lennon’s letters for  this book. The letters are dated from 1951 to 1980.

It has been produced to commemorate fifty years since the Beatles hit the world stage.  Fifty years!!! I can’t believe it.

"The John Lennon Letters."

Jarvis Cocker comes up with some very creative phrases.

 “We are the children of the echo. Born just after some kind of explosion, and doomed to spend the rest of our lives working backwards to try and get as close as we can to the moment of The Big Bang.”

Does he mean born after the dropping of the first atomic bomb or does he really mean the bang that began the universe?  I presume the birth of the Beatles is some sort of Big Bang in the world of creativity and music. Jarvis is a little vague on his precise meaning in this statement. However I can see his point about working backwards. We have come so far in this world with trivia, useless pursuits, greed, consumerism and ego mania we need desperately to put the genie back in the bottle and get back  to a more frugal, purposeful and purer life. Well, maybe that is what he means. The Beatles as some sort of purer reality?  Well I’m not sure. Maybe he means the purity of their music? The innocent honest lyrics and so on. Or maybe the world they came from wasn’t as tarnished as the world now? The second world war had only finished so maybe not that. Oh  well, I’m sure he knows what he means.

  Jarvis is hoping to find an answer to the question,

 “ Just how did those four lads come to “shake  the world”?

He  hopes the letters of John Lennon will help.

However what he finds   in this book are short notes such  as; (they are so short  I even have time to transcribe one or two here.)

“Degs, no fucking George,  Yer Cunt, Jack” ( letter 238: memo to Derek.)

And even better;

“Fred, lights in kitchen(bulbs),

Honey  candy,Kitchen aircon is “On heat” (something wrong),Cabbage,Grape oil, (ask where),Onions,Peas (the Korean shop shells them),Sesame oil,

Tomatoes, berries, yoghurt, hamburger meat (for the cat), (letter 255: Domestic list for Fred.)

Mind blowing! I am sure you agree.

According to Jarvis Cocker what Hunter Davies appears to have done is contact anybody and everybody who has ever bought a piece of John Lennon memorabilia at auction. These are not the treasured kept letters of family and friends. These are valuable scraps of writing because they have  been auctioned and are worth money. They are little investments in bits of John Lennon. Their inanity is not the point. Lennon touched these pieces of paper and scrawled things on them. 

A John Lennon letter, a little more substantial than his ,"post it notes."

They  are artefacts. Jarvis Cocker tells us that next to each transcription is a photograph of the original piece. The photographs of the artefacts are more important than the content transcribed next to them.  Jarvis Cocker may be exaggerating to make a point here. I am sure there must be some insightful, letters amongst the items in this book. Actually, my local Tescos has some copies for sale. I am not going to buy the book but I might spend a little while trawling through it for free as I do my weekly shop for apples and oranges, pasta, milk, butter and bread. I’m sounding like John Lennon now. He would approve no doubt. Nobody is going to tell me off!!!!!!

Towards the end of the article Jarvis makes a comment which really lit up my  thinking.

“… the  whole point of the Beatles is that they were ordinary. Four working class boys from Liverpool who not only showed that not only could they create art that stood comparison with that produced by the establishment- they could create art that pissed all over it……the  greatest creative force of  the 20^th century.”

Again this is an over exaggeration. “The greatest creative force of the 20^th century,” I don’t think so but a great creative force all the same. But the comment, " they were ordinary," got me thinking. Just recently myself and some friends were in Liverpool for a school reunion. We all got together at The Monro Pub in Liverpool’s docklands in the evening for a meal and few drinks. During the day, before the evening festivities began, some of us decided to take a Beatles tour. We booked the National Trusts Beatles tour which enabled us to visit John Lennon’s childhood home in Menlove Avenue ,Woolton and also Paul McCartney’s childhood home at Forthlin Road.

Me and some mates outside 251, Menlove Avenue, where John Lennon lived with his Aunty Mimi

I agree with Jarvis Cocker's point that the Beatles were ordinary. John Lennon’s home was a semi detached house in a middle class road. It was his Aunty Mimi’s and Uncle George’s house. They looked after him because his mother Julia wasn't cable of doing so. Anyway she had divorced his dad, Alfred, who was a merchant seaman and never at home. Julia had a new family to bring up. So John was the typical, unfortunately more so these days, damaged child from a broken disrupted home. His Aunty Mimi moved heaven and earth to try and stabilise his life for him. She had ambitions for John.  Music was a sort of rebellion for him and something he could retreat into.

Paul McCartney on the other hand lived in a typical terraced council house on a council estate. He came from a very stable background. His father was a working class docker in Liverpool docks and his mother Mary was a nurse. They were a stable family. Paul enjoyed his music and wrote songs because he loved to do so. He tried out his songs on his family. His father collected records so Paul had music to listen to as well.

Paul Mc Cartneys childhood home  at 20, Forthlin Road, Liverpool

In visiting their houses it brought back a lot of memories from my childhood. My family, like Paul McCartney’s family, started in council property but in Southampton. After the war when my dad returned from Burma he got a clerical job on board the transatlantic liners, The Queen Mary and the Queen Elizabeth, as a pursers assistant. When he met my mum he decided to get a job ashore as a clerk in the accounts department of a seed company in Southampton. They had little money and so lived in council accommodation. But my dad had ambitions. He studied hard for his accountancy exams and became a qualified accountant. Eventually my mum and dad bought their own house. They had ambitions, for myself and my two brothers too. Just as John’s Aunty Mimi had ambitions for John. My parents made sure we had a good education. How many people now really and truly value and understand the importance of a good education? We attended, first of all Charlton, a junior school and then the secondary school, St Mary’s College, Bitterne Park, in Southampton  both run by the Christian Teaching Brothers, (the ,”de la Mennais Brothers,”) a religious teaching order from Brittany . The point is, from a lowly start in life my family had ambitions and we progressed.

 In the 1950’s and early 1960’s council estates were full of people on the bottom rung of society and many of them worked hard and they had ambitions to progress in life. One friend of mine who lived in a council house too is now a professor at Belfast University, another is a managing director of a company, many are teachers, or became solicitors. Often people on housing estates, because they had mundane blue collar jobs, poured all their imaginations and creativity into hobbies. I’ve known judo experts, enthusiastic boxers, gymnasts, ballroom dancers, musicians who played at weddings and at local pubs, model makers, go cart enthusiasts, mechanics building their own kit cars,pigeon fanciers, whippet owners who raced their dogs and many many who  grew their  own  vegetables on council allotments and the list of activities goes on. Housing estates used to be bursting with creative people. Paul McCartney is a prime example, perhaps also George Harrison too. Ringo Starr was a local drummer who inadvertently tacked along. Nowadays I am not so sure people on council housing estates have this same drive and purpose to their lives. For a  start  much council property has been sold off.

The Jarvis Cocker article:

WEST MEON IN HAMPSHIRE

"I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green & pleasant Land."

The final verse  of, “And did those feet in Ancient Time,” also known as the hymn ,”Jerusalem,” England's unofficial national anthem. It was first published as part of the preface to,” Milton,” by William Blake in 1804

In the late 1950’s very few people had cars. They were beyond the income of the majority. People relied on buses, coaches and trains to  get around the country. When I was about seven years old,  the  Hants & Dorset  bus company had a small booking office situated on the corner of Portsmouth Road and Victoria Road in Woolston.  Woolston was the part of Southampton where myself and my family lived, next to the Itchen River. I was always fascinated by a large colourful poster displayed in the window of the booking office. It advertised, “Mystery Coach Tours.” The tours promised a drive through a picturesque part of the Hampshire countryside. You would pay for your ticket a day or two in advance, arrive at the coach office at a given time, board the coach and be taken on a mystery trip in one of the distinctive Hants & Dorset dark  green single decker buses. Nobody knew where they were going.  However, those people who had been on one of these trips would return and tell neighbours and friends and in turn they would tell others. The mystery trips that left from the coach office in Woolston always travelled along the beautiful valley of the Meon River, north east of Southampton and situated to the east of Winchester.

West Meon High Street in the heart of Hampshire.

Over the last forty years I have lived in Wimbledon, South London and my parents, in their old age have continued to live in Woolston, Southampton. I always enjoy driving down to Southampton along the rural route by way of Guildford, Farnham, Alton and along the Meon Valley. I drive through the village of West Meon that is situated on the A32 road. It is a very beautiful part of Hampshire, rolling chalk downland, lush green fields, thick clumps of woodland interspersed with small villages of rose and wisteria clad thatched cottages and clay tiled roofed houses, walls of flint and, locally made russet red bricks. Cars are required to slow to 30 miles per hour or less as you drive through West Meon. So I always get a chance to look and take in the beautiful gardens and rustic buildings. Sometimes I stop and park the car. It is a wonderful experience to just walk around the village.  West Meon surrounds you with old buildings, stone walls and thick shrubbery. There are modern houses but they are hidden within groves of trees off  the main road and out of site but the old is most obvious and prominent in the village. The village hall commemorates Queen Victoria's Jubilee. Cottages cluster together and stretch around the curving serpentine high street winding downhill towards the valley bottom and the River Meon that slips like pure liquid silver and as clear  as glass over it’s pebbled bottom through and on past the village.

 The stone cross at the centre of the village.

In Kelly’s Directory of 1878 it is described thus;

“WEST MEON, a parish and a large village, pleasantly situated on the banks of the small river Aire, or Meon, 8 miles W of Petersfield and N.E. of Bishop’s Waltham, in Droxford union and county court district and Meon Stoke hundred, had about 931 inhabitants in 1871 and comprises 3774 acres of generally light and fertile land, rising in bold undulations and including WOODLANDS hamlet, two miles north of the village, and several scattered farms.”

Nowadays West Meon has shrunk slightly in population to 690 inhabitants. It was possibly mentioned in Anglo Saxon documents. A few miles away at Corhampton there is a very rare example of a complete Saxon church that is dated 1020. The Normans didn’t leave many Saxon buildings untouched. They preferred to eradicate the world of the Saxons, ruthlessly. There is evidence of early Stone Age activity going back 50.000 years in the vicinity. Old Winchester Hill, nearby, a good defence point to protect against attack from neighbouring tribes, has evidence of flint tools 20,000 years old. The village of West Meon itself has remains dated to the Iron Age and bronze ages when people had progressed from the hunter gatherer period to create settlements and  become farmers. There is also evidence that the Meonwara tribe lived here.  There are the remains of a Roman Villa in Lippen Wood. 

A West Meon thatched cottage.

The manor of West Meon was listed in the Domesday Book as being owned by the Bishop of Winchester. The Domesday Book was instigated by William I (The Conqueror) .The first draft was completed in 1086 and contained records of 13,418 settlements.  William wanted to know what exactly was in his kingdom and what it was worth. This enabled the Normans to assess the taxes they could exact and  what wealth they could derive. The book was written in Winchester. Data was gathered from all over England. William’s officials scoured every corner of Britain. They recorded  landholders and their tenants, the amount of land they owned, how many people occupied the land (villagers, smallholders, free men, slaves), the amounts of woodland, meadow, animals, fish and ploughs on the land and buildings such as churches, castles, mills and salt houses.

If your internet breaks down you can still phone home.

A charter in 1205 showed that the land was granted to the prior and Convent of St Swithun. St Swithun was important to Winchester because he was the local patron saint who pilgrims came to pray to in the great cathedral.It remained in the hands of the convent until  the dissolution of the monasteries. In 1541 it was granted to the dean  and chapter of  Winchester Cathedral.In 1544 Henry VIII granted it to  Thomas Wriothesley Earl of  Southampotn. Thomas Wriothesley is most famous because of his friendship with Shakespeare. There are suggestions that Shakespeare visited and stayed on the earls estates at Titchfield in the Meon Valley and wrote some of his sonnets in honour of the Earl.

During The English  Civil war  West Meon was the sight of several  skirmishes before The Battle of Cheriton, which took place about six miles  from West Meon to the north  west, which was  fought on  29^th March 1644.

Some famous people, who lived and died in West Meon, are Thomas Lord (1755-1832) the founder of Lords cricket ground in St Johns Wood, North London. Also there is the grave of the infamous Guy Burgess. Guy Burgess (16 April 1911 – 30 August 1963) was a British radio producer, intelligence officer and Foreign Office official. He was part of the Cambridge Five spy ring that passed Western secrets to the Soviets before and during the Cold War.

St John the Evangelist, West Meon.

The fine flint built church in the centre of the village, St John the Evangelist, was designed by Gilbert Scott and was built in 1846 on the site of the ancient church. In an extraordinary twist, the design was taken to New York where an exact replica was built as the church of St Thomas, Mamaroneck.

West Meon is situated in a beautiful valley in the South Downs about 66 miles south of London, 15 miles  east of Winchester and 25miles north of Southampton. The South Downs is a range of chalk hills that extends for about 260 square miles across the south-eastern coastal counties of England from the Itchen Valley of Hampshire in the west to Beachy Head, near Eastbourne, East Sussex, in the east. It is bounded on its northern side by a steep escarpment. The South Downs National Park forms a much larger area than the chalk range of the South Downs and includes large parts of the Weald.

It is characterised by rolling chalk downland with close-cropped turf and dry valleys, and is recognised as one of the most important chalk landscapes in England. It was formed from a thick band of chalk which was deposited during the Cretaceous Period around sixty million years ago within a shallow sea which extended across much of Northwest Europe. The rock is composed of the microscopic skeletons of plankton which lived in the sea. The chalk has many fossils, and bands of flint occur throughout the formation. The Chalk is divided into the Lower, Middle and Upper Chalk, a thin band of cream-coloured nodular chalk known as the Melbourn Rock marking the boundary between the Lower and Middle units.

The strata of south-east England, including the chalk, were gently folded during a phase of the Alpine Orogeny to produce the Weald-Artois Anticline, a dome-like structure with a long east-west axis. Erosion has removed the central part of the dome, leaving the north-facing escarpment of the South Downs along its southern margin with the south-facing chalk escarpment of the North Downs on the northern side.

The River Meon begins its life high on the South Downs as spring water seeping out from the edge of the water table contained within the structure of the chalk downland. Chalk is porous and so absorbs rainwater easily and acts as a great aquifer. It naturally regulates the flow of water into the river systems of the South Downs. Chalk streams transport little suspended material  but are mineral-rich. The surface water of chalk streams is often described as 'gin clear'. The channel bed consists of angular flint gravel  from the natural flint deposits found embedded within the chalk.

The unique characteristics of chalk stream ecology are due to a stable temperature and flow  combined with  transparent  water and lack of sand grade sediment particles. The river stretches for 21 miles flowing through the Meon Valley. The river  supports valuable wildlife habitats. Within the river system it is home to water crowfoot, brown trout, kingfishers and otters. The reed beds at Titchfield create their own unique habitat too.

A thatched cottage in West Meon.

The River Meon is renowned for its fly fishing particularly at The Meon Springs where the river is stocked with brown trout and rainbow trout. Izaak Walton, who wrote The Compleat Angler in the 17th century lived  towards the end of his life, in Winchester. His tomb is in the Silkstead Chapel inside Winchester Cathedral. It is a chapel dedicated to anglers. He went to Droxford, near West Meon, to fish in The River Meon. He said that it was the best river in England for trout.

Izaak Walton born August 9th 1593, died December 15th 1683  fished  in the  River Meon.

In and around West Meon there are watercress beds to be found. Long regular troughs have been dug into the land bordering The River Meon. Through the use of sluice gates to regulate the flow of the water they are  filled with  pure chalk stream water from the  river. At times of the year they are lush with the greenery provided by the water cress floating on the surface of these ponds. The stems of watercress are hollow so this makes the plant buoyant on the surface of the water. The leaves are pinnately compound, which means petals are arranged on either side of a stem and the watercress produces small white flowers in clusters. The Latin name for the watercress is nasturtium officinale,N. microphyllum.

Many of the cottages, garden walls and houses in West Meon, as well as the church ofSt John the  Evangelist,  are  constructed with knapped flint. West Meon’s position in the chalk South Downs is well situated near to a source of good quality flint for building.

Flint is one of three forms of compact crystalline silica which have been used in building. It is found in Chalk geological formations. It is closely related to quartz, chalcedony, chert and jasper. Flint, chert and jasper are important rocks for building, with flint the most common.

A young flint knapper with Box Hill behind him. (The Stonebreaker by John Brett exhibited 1858)

 Its origin is generally  thought to be the siliceous sponges once inhabiting the waters of Cretaceous seas.

Flint and chert are concretions, natural growths of mineral matter which form around a centre or core. Sometimes the core may have been a sea urchin or a sponge. The silica solutions from which flint was created could also have flooded cavities formed by marine borers. The colours of flint are black or dark blue-grey, and they are usually nodular in form, and coated in a white calcium carbonate. The nodules break forming sharp edges. Axes, adzes, spear points and arrowheads were made from flint by Stone Age tribes by hammering and flaking the  flint.Flint knappers were common in the Victorian countryside. There is a Pre-Raphaelite painting of a knapper working on Box Hill in Surrey. West Meon is full of buildings constructed with blue, black, glassy silica flint pieces.

 A  flint  wall in  West Meon churchyard.

Another characteristic of buildings in West Meon are the number of thatched cottages. Many of the cottages have clay roof tiles too which  proved to be a cheaper option but both thatched roofs and clay tiled roofs provide a warm natural effect and fit perfectly side by side within this rural community. A thatched cottage looks warm and cosy like a house topped with a thick head of hair. It’s contours are rounded, and rough textured. Thatched cottages are built with local materials. The houses people live in are the soil and rocks and grasses grown and formed naturally scooped up and skilfully fashioned.  The straw from the wheat fields or the reeds from the marshes become the roofs. People used whatever was available locally. This meant materials as diverse as broom, sedge, sallow, flax, grass, and straw were used. Most common is wheat straw in the south of England, and reeds in East Anglia. Norfolk reed is especially prized by thatchers, although in northern England and Scotland heather was frequently used.  Some of the cottages in West Meon have walls constructed from timber frames formed from large oak or ash branches hewn from the local woods and dragged to the building site. The spaces between the oak beams were filled with wattle and daub, itself a mixture of ash fencing, clay from the ground mixed with  straw to bind it and solidified with cow dung and sealed by lime from the lime quarrys. Some were constructed in bricks from local clays baked in fiery kilns. The very elements were combined and used to form these homes. 

In constructing a thatched roof   first the thatch is tied in bundles, then laid in an under-layer on the roof beams and pegged in place with rods made of hazel or withy. Then an upper layer is laid over the first, and a final reinforcing layer added along the ridge line  It is at the ridge line that the individual thatcher leaves his personal "signature", a decorative feature of some kind that marks the job as his alone. In West Meon a couple of the cottages have straw pheasants standing on the roof ridges. There also seems to be decorative stitching created with twigs along the roof lines. These are individual designs to show the thatcher’s personality and trade mark.

Having visited West Meon many times, it is a diverse and vibrant community. Not only does it have it’s church community with it’s social gatherings, festivals and religious year, there is a village hall for community parties and meetings. There is a junior school for the young children of the village and there are two pubs to socialise and relax in. There are a number of local grocers and  general stores too. It comprises people of all ages and situations  amongst it’s numbers. It appears to  me to  be a happy and lived in place.

The Thomas Lord pub in West Meon.

Notes:

West Meon Parish Council:  http://www.westmeonpc.org.uk/

A History of The Meon Valley: http://www.localhistories.org/meonvalley.html

St John the Evangelist: http://www.wilfrid-meon-pilgrimage.co.uk/church_st_john_the_evangelist_west_meon.htm

The Thomas Lord public house: http://www.thethomaslord.co.uk/

Thatching information: http://thatch.org/

A house for sale in West Meon:
http://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-22019055.html/svr/3102;jsessionid=E7F8A7AC006D3D1C50F5722289A23CF7?premiumA=true

SPASTICUS AUTISTICUS

“I’m Spasticus, I’m Spasticus

I’m  Spastiicus Autisticus

I’m Spasticus, I’m Spasticus

I’m  Spasticus  Autisticus

I’m Spasticus, I’m Spasticus…”

Ian Dury of The Blockheads 

If  Ian  Dury  had still been alive, he died in March  2000, he would have been  on that  stage in the middle of that  Olympic cauldron in  Stratford,  East London the other night, yelling and  screaming out those lyrics. Instead it fell to the wonderful Graeae Theatre Company to proudly play his part. Those words sung by Drury, a polio victim, full of manic energy, staggering in his crippled state and hanging on to the microphone  precariously for support, exploding with  energy and anger at  the gaze of most,  pounding out that song, dripping with sweat,  on a stage, confronting everybody  with his  disability showed  us what paraplegics are capable of. They are capable of everything. Ian Dury wasn’t hiding his disability, he was thrusting disability at us, telling it how it is. The 4,200 paraplegic athletes at that wondrous opening ceremony of the Paralympics  were there to show the world what they can do, to show the utmost effort, skill and achievement. In the words of Seb Coe the organiser of both the 2012 Olympics and the Paralympics here in London,

“  prepare to be inspired, prepare to be dazzled, prepare to be moved.”

The Opening ceremony to The Paralympics 2012. The statue of Alison Lapper.

The theme of  the opening ceremony  was Enlightenment. There was more than one  layer of meaning  encapsulated  in that  theme. There was the historical  Enlightenment which involved, Sir Isaac Newton and his understanding of gravity and the universe right up to the recent Hadron Collider based in Lucerne that has smashed atoms at  such  speeds that scientists  have detected the Higgs  Boson particle which has changed the study of physics  and how we understand the universe. The whole stadium, using a light show, became the Hadron Collider with a moving commentary by Stephen Hawking the paraplegic  professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University.

A giant copy of the 1948 Universal declaration of Human Rights flicked over it’s pages in the middle of the  stadium.

Article 1.

• All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.

 Ian McKellen  played Prospero from Shakespeare’s, The Tempest with  Nicola Miles Wildin, who used her wheelchair at times, playing Miranda. Prospero sent Miranda shooting high into the air above the stadium  to smash the glass ceiling that blocks so many avenues of progression for paraplegics and the ceiling crashed to the ground in a multitude of shards. Destroyed!
Miranda looked about her and proclaimed,

“ o wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankingd is! O! Brave new World that has such people in it!”

I must add, not, The Brave New World of Aldous Huxley, far far from that.A human loving Brave New World. We can only hope and strive.

Marc Quinn’s giant sculpture of a beautiful, erotic, naked, and  pregnant  Alison Lapper sitting squatly with stumps for arms and deformed legs, dominated the stadium at one stage.

The theme of enlightenment not only covered the historic period of Enlightenment in Britain in the 18^th century and all its  great themes of exploration, discovery and science but it was also about enlightening us about people with physical disabilities. The main theme seemed to be saying there are no disabilities just different ways of perceiving and doing.

The end of the ceremony had Beverley Knight singing,

 “I am what I am

I don't want praise I don't want pity

I bang my own drum

Some think it's noise I think it's pretty

And so what if I love each sparkle and each bangle

Why not try to see things from a different angle…”

Her voice is so powerful and strong. She filled the whole stadium with her voice and 80,000 voices sang along with her. I had tears in my eyes.

Ian Dury's Spasticus  Autisticus being performed at the opening ceremony of The Paralympics.

“Iam what Iam…….. I’mSpasticus, I’mSpasticus, I’m Spasticus autisticus!!!!!!!!”

The period of Enlightenment. Isaac Newton perceived an example of gravity when an apple fell on his head.

To end the ceremony, Royal Marine, Joe Townsend, who lost both his legs while on duty in Afghanistan after standing on a hidden explosive in a road, flew into the stadium along a zipwire from the top of Anish Kapoors adjacent observation tower  holding the Olympic torch aloft. Margaret Maughn, who received Britain’s first Paralympic gold medal at the first Paralympics in Rome in 1960, waited in her wheelchair to receive the torch. She lit the Olympic cauldron.

The Paralympics were an invention by Dr Ludwigg Guttman at Stoke Mandeville Hospital in 1948. Soldiers returning from the conflict in Europe with horrendous injuries improved their whole disposition by playing sport.  Dr Guttman discovered that by taking part in archery and other sports adapted to their needs  soldiers recover mentally, socially and emotionally from horrendous amputations.

AND HERE IS IAN DURY PERFORMING SPASTICUS AUTISTICUS;

WE READERS ARE KILLING THE NOVEL

Howard Jacobson

Howard Jacobson is one of our most successful recent novelists and author of The Finkler Question which won The Man Booker Prize in 2010. He is  a journalist, broadcaster and novelist born in Manchester in 1942.

In the article below he berates us readers for killing the novel.

Reading his article entitled, “ Readers are killing the novel, warns Jacobson,” Source Books and many of their readers come immediately to mind. Source Books is a publishing company with  many  parts to its octopus like, many limbed body,  the most life withering and  destructive tentacle  of which publishes Jane Austen  spin offs. I should say more specifically, Pride and Prejudice spin offs. Darcy and Elizabeth must appear. That is the only one of  Jane Austen’s creative  works  that  has the pulling power to  sell. Yes, it's all about money and the duping of innocent ladies who are happy receiving pin money to sweat away over writing  nice sweet sentences for Source Books.  Surely anybody aware of this should hear the warning bells immediately and certainly not read this stuff. However some people apparently do read it.

So what is Howard Jacobson’s main point? It is that we as readers are reduced to liking novels that have a character with whom we empathise.  That is not what Jacobson thinks reading should be about and it is not what I think reading is about.

One of my favourite analysts of good writing, Pie Corbett, an ex teacher, writes,

” Literature should jolt the senses, making us feel alive... we should  have only time to  read books that bite and sting…if books we read do not wake us up  with a blow to  the head what’s the point in reading? A book must be an axe which smashes the frozen sea within us.”

When I read I want to be challenged, made to think and have my world turned upside down. I want to be made to feel uncomfortable and challenged. The comfortable safe world of another Pride and Prejudice spin off is doing two things, killing the novel  and killing  me.

Here is Howard Jacobson’s article:

Haworth and the Brontë thing.

The Moors just outside of  Haworth.

“ I  struck straight into  the  heath; I  held on to a hollow I saw deeply furrowing the brown moorside; I wade knee deep in it’s dark growth; I turned with it’s turnings, and finding a moss blackened  granite crag in a hidden angle, I  sat  down  under it. High banks of moor were about me; the crag protected my head; the sky was over that. Some time passed before I felt tranquil even  here;  I had  a  vague  dread  that wild cattle might be  near, or that some sportsman or poacher might  discover me. If a gust of wind swept the waste,  I looked  up, fearing it was the rush of a bull; if a plover whistled, I imagined it a man. Finding my apprehensions unfounded, however, and calmed by the deep silence  that  reigned as  evening declined  at nightfall, I took confidence.  As yet I had not thought; I had only listened, watched, dreaded; now I gained  the faculty of reflection. What was I to do? Where was I to go?”

(Jane Eyre,  Chapter XVIII, by  Charlotte  Brontë. First published 1847)

This passage comes straight after Jane has  left  Mr Rochester, in great consternation. The presence of his mad, sick  wife, watched and guarded in her  garret room  has been revealed to Jane, and  she has had to spurn Mr  Rochester’s approach to  her. For all  his powerful reasoning  she  has cast herself out into a wilderness. In this passage Jane expresses her fear of meeting anybody. She knows  she will  be judged. She has left her home for a “no mans land.”   Jane has cast herself out into a world of wind, rain, storms and barrenness and fearful imaginings.  All is left to chance. This scene portrays the mental and physical situation Jane  is in. She descends into deep despair and wishes for death. A human being could go no lower. Charlotte Brontë challenges us to experience this with her character. She shakes us up and makes us consider things we would not do normally.

 Charlotte Brontë explores  societies values about relationships  and marriage. The long argument between Mr Rochester and Jane and this moorland scene give us an inkling into the writing process that she went through and the purpose for writing she believed in.

 Emily, Charlotte and Anne

Recently, Clive, an old school  mate of mine and Paul , also an old school friend from our Liverpool days, and I visited Haworth Parsonage in the village of Haworth on The Pennine Moors. It was the home of the Brontë family that included the three sisters, Emily,  Anne and Charlotte who wrote some of the most amazing stories of the  English language. We always think of the Brontës, sitting  in that  stone parsonage miles away from all civilisation conjuring up  brutal  and emotional  stories through their imaginations brought on by  wild winds, rocky promontories and windswept moors..  This is partly true.  There  are  the  moors and the windswept promontories  at the back  of the  parsonage and reaching far off to the horizon, but the  parsonage is situated on the edge of  Haworth, which is  an extensive community. They were not alone. The sisters were the daughters of, Patrick  Brontë, the vicar  of Haworth, and this might have created a social  distance between them and the rest of the village.

 The Haworth parsonage where the Brontë sisters lived.

When we entered the parsonage, the first room we saw, to the left of  the entrance was  the parlour. Much of the furniture is the same as when The Brontës lived there. There is a large dining table and it was around this table the three sisters would conjure up their stories.  It was interesting to hear that they would often walk around the room and around the table talking about their ideas, verbalising their stories, exchanging ideas. This brings me back to the above passage from Jane Eyre. I can imagine the Brontë sisters challenging societies perceived values. Exploring the authenticity of accepted codes. I can imagine Emily or Anne playing devil’s advocate to Charlotte's Jane Eyre and arguing  Mr Rochester's view. I can imagine Charlotte pouring out the  emotions of Jane  expressing despair and the anguish Jane felt cast out on the moors.  That room and that table must have been witness to some  dramatic scenes. It is also interesting to discover that the Brontë sisters drew and sketched. By using, acting,  speakiing out, sketching and dramatising scenes they crafted  and formed  their stories. They discussed, in their writing, Christian morals, social conventions, such  as   marriage and challenged these perceived conventions, questioning and reasoning every aspect.  The moors had an emotional and physical presence which infiltrated their writing.  The weather and the landscape  were all put into the mix to create the conflicts and arguments. This is what makes them great writers. A great writer should  challenge the  reader.  

Being human  never changes. The process the Brontës went through to  write their stories is as valid today as  it was  then.  Jane Austen’s process took a similar path. She was more  discrete and private but  she read her writing out loud to Cassandra and Martha Lloyd. She mulled over sentences and phrases with them. She loved going to the theatre and loved to see stories acted out.  Her brothers had been a big influence on her in this process. Cassandra we know loved drawing and sketching and so did Jane. We can see these similar creative process between the Brontës and Austen. They each did it in their own way and with their own emphasis  but the process of thinking, writing, editing having somebody to listen to  their compositions,reading out loud, dramatizing and drawing  was very similar.  Charlotte, Anne, Emily Brontë, along with Jane Austen, loved language and words.

The Brontë sisters  in that parlour in the parsonage in Haworth, pacing  round  the  room, taking character parts,  reading out loud, trying new phrases, challenging each other, were in short , as  Pie  Corbett says in describing, “Talk  for  Writing,” making  their ,”prose flow…and bite and sting.”

 The Brontës lived in the Haworth Parsonage, from 1820 to 1861.Charlotte; Emily and Anne Brontë were the authors of some of the best-loved books in the English language. Charlotte's novel Jane Eyre (1847), Emily's Wuthering Heights (1847), and Anne's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (1848) were written in this house over a hundred and fifty years ago. Both their father, the Revd. Patrick Brontë, and brother Branwell also saw their own works in print.

Looking down Haworth High  Street.

Haworth is a rugged little village with all the buildings constructed from local limestones and millstone grit. The village perches on the side of a steep hill.  The parsonage, where the Brontes lived, is at the top of the village and then beneath the parsonage is the graveyard followed by the church and then houses and shops sloping downhill towards the railway  station in the valley below. I should think the heart of Haworth, all  the buildings that comprise  the high street  and some of the houses just off  the high  street down small  alleyways, are the same structures that were there in the time of the Brontës. The Black  Bull  pub at the top  of  the high street is the very  establishment that Branwell  Brontë  used to  frequent and  get drunk  in. He was an alcoholic and a womaniser. He was thrown out of one job as a tutor to a young boy in a wealthy household in nearby Halifax because he had a relationship with the mother. What was embarrassing for Charlotte was that she was tutor to the daughter of the same household and had got Branwell the job with the family. She had left her employment with the family shortly before the fiasco with Branwell, fortunately.

A shop in  Haworth High  Street.

The High Street is full of quaint shops who  are using the Brontës to bring customers through their doors. Lovely, very good quality  tea  shops proliferate, Ye Olde Brontë Tea Rooms where Paul bought us an excellent lunch, Villette Coffee  House and  The Souk and lots more to choose from .  There are also  many good  quality artefact shops, woollens, books, antiques, art galleries, home made  sweet shops, clothing shops; Mrs Beightons Sweet  Shop, Silverland, Firths, The  Steam Brewing Company, Catkins of Haworth, Ice Shop and Gifts  , The  Stirrup, and so on .    Surprisingly few actually use a blatant Brontë connection but they all benefit and owe their existence to the tourist pull of The Brontës. It would be easy to criticise this but Haworth is situated in an area of poor employment and little investment  to create new industries and new wealth.  Tourism, sheep farming and  sports such as walking camping, pot holing and climbing are some of the main sources of income in the area and so the good people  of  Haworth use tourism to make a living. The stories written by Emily, Catherine  and Anne  help a lot. 

The  shop attached to  the Haworth Parsonage stocks all  the Brontës books including the biographies.  There are good quality guide  books and OS maps of  the area for  walkers  and those who want to  explore the moors. There are also pencils and book marks and a beautiful selection of cards. 

Clive and a gentleman singing Dylan numbers.

As Clive, Paul and I walked downhill along the High Street of Haworth a busker strummed his guitar and sang Bob Dylan songs.  Clive being a  proficient guitarist and singer himself joined in and accompanied the busker. They were a great duet. We walked on down to the bottom of the High street to the nearby station. Haworth station is a very important station.  It is run by the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway and Haworth station is it’s headquarters. They renovate and use old steam trains to run on the line. Haworth station itself has been used as a film set for The  Railway Children. It is used for period films when steam trains are required. We are lucky to  have steam train enthusiasts in different parts of  Britain who  have  taken on old disused stretches of  railway lines and renovated them. A few miles south of where I live in the beautiful Hampshire countryside  is the Watercress Line, a similar  organisation to the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway. It passes near Chawton, the home of Jane  Austen.

As we walked back up the hill to Haworth Parsonage, a large group  of Morris Dancers had arrived in the village.  They were dressed in their colourful regalia and carried sticks for the type of dance they were going to perform. They were dressed in costumes comprising strips of multi-coloured rags. Their faces were painted with mauves, blues and reds, similar to ancient Celtic tradition.  In the South of  England , Morris Dancers tend to  wear  white trousers and white shirts with bells and ribbons hanging off them. 

A  Wikipedia article describes Morris dancing thus::

“Morris dance is a form of English folk dance usually accompanied by music. It is based on rhythmic stepping and the execution of choreographed figures by a group of dancers, usually wearing bell pads on their shins. Implements such as sticks, swords and handkerchiefs may also be wielded by the dancers. In a small number of dances for one or two men, steps are performed near and across a pair of clay tobacco pipes laid across each other on the floor.

Claims that English records dating back to 1448 mention the morris dance are open to dispute. There is no mention of "morris" dancing earlier than the late 15th century, although early records such as Bishops' "Visitation Articles" mention sword dancing, guising and other dancing activities as well as mumming plays. Furthermore, the earliest records invariably mention "Morys" in a court setting, and both men and women are mentioned as dancing, and a little later in the Lord Mayors' Processions in London. It is only later that it begins to be mentioned as something performed in the parishes. There is certainly no evidence that it is a pre-Christian ritual, as is often claimed.”

 Morris men and ladies in Haworth.

Morris dancers and Mummers, create an old  way of story telling passed from one generation to the next. They are are an exciting spectacle. 

We left Haworth driving north towards the motorway and passed through some of  the  desolate moorland beloved by the Brontes  before reaching the old mill  town of Halifax.  I  had not  been to  Halifax before and I was  amazed at the site of many of the old Victorian cotton mills . They are enormous stone buildings that encapsulate the growth of industrialisation in the Victorian period.

  

Paul, a very good mate of mine from Liverpool standing in Haworth's  churchyard.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morris_dance

http://www.haworth-village.org.uk/steam-trains/kwvr/haworth-station.asp

This link is an attachment to the Haworth Parsonage and will provide you with lots of information about the Brontës  and the parsonage.

http://www.bronte.org.uk/

POST SCRIPT; Pie Corbett has written two books to help teachers develop children’s writing. “Jumpstart to Literacy,” and “Jumpstart to Storymaking.”

They are full of games and strategies to help develop character, setting and to help a story move along. 

MY CITY (London)

Bait ul Futah Mosque in Mordern South London

When my youngest daughter , Abigail, started in  year 1 at The Sacred Heart Junior School, Burlington  Road, at the age  of five,  she had only been there a few days when she came home one evening. As I  was about to  take  her schoolbag from her  she retorted,  “ haji ma.”  I replied, “What did you say?” “Haji  ma,”  she repeated. “Konnichiwa,” she continued. My daughter was not only talking Japanese she was also talking Korean. She was able to translate for me. I had gone to take her bag but she didn’t want me to take it off her.  “Haji ma,” means,” don’t do it.” “Konnichiwa,” means, “good afternoon.” Abigail was demonstrating the ease with which she was able to, at the age of 5, fit smoothly into the multicultural environment of  her school. On the playground they were all  conversing in a variety of languages and each of them was learning from each other.

London is the most cosmopolitan city in the world. People from all over the world have come to live here over the decades and centuries.Some to esacpe persecution;some to have a better  life for themselves and their families. Each part of London has it’s mix but often each area has it’s most dominant immigrant group. Where I live it has a very large Korean community, hence my daughter coming home speaking Korean phrases from a very early age. Restaurants, supermarkets , hairdressers, travel agents, craft shops and clothing shops are all Korean. Streets of them.

Five hundred yards from my house, near Motspur Park railway station , there is a Greek Kebab house, a fish and chip shop owned and run by a Chinese family and further along the road, a Chinese takeaway with a giant steel wok prominently on view in the shop window. Motspur  Park Tandoori restaurant holds Elvis nights once a week with a Pakistani Elvis wearing all the gear, dressed as the star; Las Vegas era. We have a hal hal butchers shop which prominently exhibits a large photograph of a cuddly little lamb which all the local children love to look at, announcing, emblazoned across it, “Fresh lamb butchered for your Sunday Roast. Delicious.”Next door to the butchers shop is EKLEE, a delicatessen and a fruit and vegetable shop with much of it’s produce exhibited on tressle tables on the pavement.It sells  the most amazing range of olives and sells the most  delicious baklava, and sweet syrupy pastry's and spicy curries made in their kitchen at the back. The range of produce it provides is a greater range of herbs, spices and vegetables than your usual English greengrocers.It  is  owned and run by Mr Malik and his  lovely Iranian family who have lived in the area for  generations. Kami’s, the hairdressers are owned by a Turkish family. The local chemist shop is run by a Pakistani chemist and my dentist is Indian.

Two miles from where I live , in Tooting, the whole area is mostly Indian and Pakistanis. Sari shops displaying the most beautifully designed fabrics of all colours often emblazoned with  gold edging, proliferate.
We get many  people from the Southern Hemisphere,  Australians,  South Africans and New Zealanders. I taught for many  years with Katie  from  South  Africa  and  Evette from Zimbabwe or  Zim as  she  used to call it.  I met Evette in my local  TESCOS the other day with  her new baby  boy.We talked and  she  is very worried about her country. Her  Mum and  Dad still live  there  and are struggling along. They are too old  now to  move anywhere else.Next to  Raynes Park Station is a small South African grocers shop. You can  get your bill-tong there and other South  African delights.  

In Motspur Park,my local park,  the Sir Joseph Hood Playing Fields, is used for Australian Rules Football after the usual football  season is over.The Wimbledon Hawks use it as their home ground.. They set up  a bar selling cans of Fosters beer and hold an enormous barbecue that sends it's delicious odours wafting  across the fields  during every home game. Their  bright orange kit make them stand out at  some distance.

The Wimbledon Hawks at The Sir Joseph Hood Playing Fields.

These diverse communities also have their places of worship.. We have the largest mosque in Europe, the Baitul Futih Mosque, with space for 1600 worshippers at a time.

In Wimbledon Village is the Buddhapadipa Temple, with gold and jewelled designs all over it. It has a small monastery of Budhist monks and nuns and also runs a Budhist school.The Koreans have taken over an old office block which they have turned into their own Baptist  church. SomeKoreans are Roman Catholics and attend the Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church in Wimbledon .There  is a  Christian  Science Church in Worple Road ;  Raynes Park Methodist Church, Holy Cross Church of England  and  St John the Baptist Roman  Catholic church are all within a mile radius of where I live.  Often they each hold cultural activities to which they invite all the community.  We get flyers through our front door inviting us to Buddhist and various Christian celebrations.

The Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church Wimbledon.

What I think is unique is that often these diverse churches and religious traditions organise things together.  Every year, for one week, there is the Raynes Park festival that includes drama and music events . They collect the money for charity. My church, The Sacred Heart at Wimbledon, has a semi-professional choir. They have purchased a Steinway Piano and also have   a giant organ with an amazing pipe system. They hold classical concerts and attract top classical musicians to perform. The Methodist Church in Worple Road has a vibrant and strong amateur dramatic society and there are various art and performance groups in the other churches too. They all come together for one week each year to put on an amazing festival. The money goes to a designated charity. The churches and different religious groups also combine to organise and run soup runs and provide accommodation for London’s down and outs throughout the year. The priests, rabbis, monks, pastors and leaders from each denomination meet regularly to discuss how they can work together and emphasise the similarities and positives between them.

The different religious groups also provide educational opportunities for the community. It is law in this country to teach religion in schools but it must be multicultural as well as specific. My children go to the catholic schools in Wimbledon. They have all been to the Sacred Heart Junior School and then Alice, Emily and Abigail have gone on to the Ursuline Convent and Sam, my son, went on to  Wimbledon College, run by the Jesuits. They are catholic schools and the catholic ethos is extremely important to them . However they must learn about all other religions, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism. All the churches, synagogues, mosques and temples of various religions provide education programmes. We take our children to visit the local mosques, temples, synagogues and churches to learn about their history and beliefs. All children love learning about other religions. It really does help them understand and appreciate each other.

Occasionally, in a Christian school we might get children of other faiths. There is a trust between the diverse ethnic groups. I have taught  religion lessons in the past. When I  am  teaching about Islam for instance I will always find out if there is any child who prays to Mecca and holds Mohammed as his prophet, in the class. I will  then  get them to tell us about their lives and experiences. The rest of the class really appreciate this and ask their class mate all sorts of questions. This situation does two things. First it makes the child realise that everybody in the class respects him or her and their religion. When there is a particular festival, for instance divali, we will  get the Hindu mothers in to cook us food and bring in saris and costumes for the children to dress up in.Secondly, we all learn about each other.

In one of my classes, a few years ago I had a little Jewish girl. She got very excited about the  fact  we were going to look at Judaism and told her rabbi all about it. I got a message for the rabbi saying, if I wanted, he would come in to help me teach the lesson. So I got him to come in and we team taught. He filled in all the bits I wasn't sure about. He brought in a small piece of the Tora to show the class, some unleavened bread for them to taste and some artefacts from his synagogue for them to handle, draw and write about. I took photographs of the lesson  and wrote a report which the rabbi published on his synagogues website. I got a lot of great comments on the website.. The little girl  was ,"over the moon."

It would be interesting to see how the controversial Florida pastor ,Terry Jones , who  burned the Koran on the anniversary of 9/11, would survive and get on in Motspur Park in South London where I live. It might help educate him and  others of his ilk.

My London is a melting pot.  It is not about erasing cultural differences or trying to convert people from diverse religions. It is about celebrating each other’s differences and similarities. It is about learning from each other and creating a synergy of ideas and cultural influences.

And to conclude lets all  give it for the 50th anniversary of  Jamaican Independence.

Usain,  you  are the king  mate!!!!!!!


And lets give it up for "Marley Bob!!!!!!"

The Olympic Road Race

I walked into Kingston upon Thames yesterday with Marilyn and Abi.  We couldn't drive in because all the roads were closed to allow the Olympic Cycling Road race to pass through . Here are some photographs.

On the corner opposite Wilkinsons, Cotswolds outward bound shop and Costas Coffee.

Going past London Road and the leaning post boxes.

Here come the British team.

The British team closer.

More cyclists.

Police outriders.

Leading cars.