How many millions of words, what seas of verbiage, what torrents of tosh have been expended on the problem of public service broadcasting? And to what end? Into the debate steps Stephen Fry, and in a speech of forty minutes absolutely nails the problem. He was invited to make a contribution to the current inquiry into public service broadcasting. And this is some contribution. I defy you not to be impressed with this serious, but witty and incisive analysis. No fancy graphics, no sound or video clips, just that highly intelligent talking head. Go on – get a cup of coffee, and watch- and if you want a further incentive, you get to see Kirsty Wark telling people where the fire exits are.
Over at the Muddy Island, Juliet found a fascinating video showing 500 years of women in Western Art. I flippantly suggested that there should be a cat version, and, this being the internet, there is one of course- thanks for finding it Juliet – brilliant.
Oh, and please sponsor Juliet on her race for life – details on her blog.
Sean O’Brien is one of my favourite poets. His work has always shown its rootedness in tradition, even when questioning that tradition – see Cousin Coat, for instance. Here, in an excellent article, he makes a case for the restoration of the canon in education, before something very precious is lost. He’s right.
Harriet’s comment on my last post prompted me to go back to my Ella collection. She really is the consummate jazz singer, and I agree with Harriet that her Rodgers and Hart interpretations are sublime, though my all time favourite Ella album is The Cole Porter Songbook. There was an interesting programme on Ella in the BBC Jazz library series- to which you can subscribe for podcasts, or just listen again- which I would recommend to anyone who doesn’t know much about her. (Though it does raise the question where have you been?) Not many of the current crop come close, though I would recommend Stacey Kent, who has intriguingly employed Kazuo Ishiguro as a lyricist on her recent album. His songs are quirky, and suit Stacey’s delivery well. I’ve played this a lot.
Nearly letting February go by without a post – good job it’s a leap year and I can just sneak under the wire. Now that my profile doesn’t show a seal picture, the tagline, “the faint aroma of performing seals” is a bit redundant, I suppose. But I’ll leave it, as a reminder of one of my favourite songs, the Rodgers and Hart classic “I Wish I Were in Love Again” which contains the brilliant lines: When love congeals it soon reveals the faint aroma of performing seals the double-crossing of a pair of heels. I wish I were in love again… Not many of my tiny group of readers have noticed the reference, but Naomi Hyamson, mezzo-chanteuse and, improbably, Times journalist, did. The song’s in her repertoire, along with lots of Weimar-era Brecht / Weill. Originally from the show “Babes in Arms”, though not featured in the Mickey Rooney/ Judy Garland film version, the song is usally treated as a lively comic number, though I bet Naomi doesn’t sing it like that. Certainly, Joni Mitchell’s version, on her “Both Sides Now” album, exudes a desperate yearning. So- now you know.
When not engaged in things Burgessian in Malaysia, we had the chance to wander around Kuala Lumpur. I think the term “City of Contrasts” might have been minted for it. The high tech, ultra-modern cityscape, symbolised by the Petronas Towers, lives cheek-by-jowl with the remnants of the colonial past, and reminders of the cultural diversity of the place. There are also lots of monkeys: This was one of the few that stayed still long enough for me to photograph. This was on a Sunday stroll through the park, during which we regularly encountered dozens of these chaps. Elsewhere in the city, it’s not unusual to encounter, in a suburban street, an extraordinary temple like this: In the Chinese quarter, where apparently lots of traders don’t really like photographs, because of the, ahem, provenance of the goods on offer, we came across temples to Mammon and to more dignified deities: Another highlight was the night market at Bangsar, where the senses are assailed by a mass of competing aromas. Not sure I’d go for this guy’s produce though: More Malaysian images to come.
…is probably a good title for an article I shall write about my experience addressing the old boys of Malay College on the subject of their old teacher John Anthony Burgess Wilson. I hadn’t anticipated the scale of the event, though I had a suspicion when we arrived early and saw the banners.Here’s one: Sharon has other photos in her account. Although I was billed as the main event, the real stars of the show were the old boys who offered some great reminiscences of their encounters with Burgess. It seems that Time for A Tiger, which we all knew was autobiographical, was even more closely based on the actual experiences of Burgess and some of the boys. I particularly liked one anecdote. One boy, who had known Burgess earlier in his school life, discovered when he was head boy that Mr Wilson had published a novel, and that it was set in a school obviously based on MCKK. He asked the head if the school might buy a copy for the library. “Over my dead body!” was the terse reply from Mr Howell, who had been instrumental in ridding the school of Burgess’s presence. I was privileged to be able to speak to a good many folk at this event, including the Malaysian laureate Datuk A. Samad Said and Dr Zawiah Yahya, whose book Resisting Colonialist Discourse has a section on Burgess. It was clear that interest in Burgess goes beyond the MCOBA. I hope to write more, both here and in more formal style, on Burgess’s time in Malaysia. Meanwhile, I should thank once again the MCOBA committee and members for making me and Elaine so welcome. I came away with lots of gifts, including one of those banners. I hope I can manage to visit again in the not-so-distant future, to build on these new acquaintanceships.
I’ve been east before, of course. Why, only last year, I holidayed in Aldeburgh. But this is a bit different. I’m in Malaysia as the guest of uberblogger and Kuala Lumpur literary scene maven, Sharon Bakar. My mission is to give a couple of talks about Anthony Burgess, first to the old boys of Malay College, where he worked in the 50s, and then to a seminar at the university here. It’s fascinating to be here, and to see this vibrant country at first hand. What’s more, we have expert guidance from Sharon and her husband Abu, himself an old boy of the college. We went up to Kuala Kangsar to visit the college, and to see the area generally. Sharon shamed me by being able to quote verbatim from Time For A Tiger. Her blog shows her reading from the novel at a very appropriate location. We also ate an “egg steak” at KK. This is, basically, fried eggs in a kind of HP sauce with chips- apparently the staple diet of Aussie and Brit troops who couldn’t afford meat. Delicious- and veggie too! The talk for the old boys has aroused lots of interest, so I’m hoping they will be gentle with me. Certainly, the committee members who invited us to a delicious tea at the Petaling Jaya Hilton yesterday could not have been more gracious and welcoming. Last night we also had the great pleasure of meeting Tan Twan Eng, Booker longlisted author,with whom we spent a very pleasant few hours chatting about all kinds of things. Full report to follow. Scores so far: mosquito bites- 6; Tiger beers consumed- 1; egg steaks demolished-1; monkeys encountered- 487; fainting fits- 1.
