Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts

Monday, 1 April 2019

Review: Life After Life - Kate Atikinson

This is a great book.

(Fred, that isn't a review.)

Fine. So:

 Life After Life is a book I wouldn't have encountered without my book club, and - going to be honest - hadn't really heard of Kate Atkinson before it was added to the list. But that's the joy of a book club, and yeah, maybe it throws up more duds than gems, but every now and then?

I mean, it is really, really good. Intricate, complex, intelligent, the characters glow through the premise in a way that kind of reminds me of A.S Byatt. If I had to sum it up in a word, that would be "nourishing" - Life After Life a book that feeds your story sense, that builds a world, a family, a life (we'll come to that later) in a way that is just so satisfying. I'm not often a big fan of realist fiction (again, we'll come to that in a minute), but when it delivers, it triumphs - and this book is a triumph. It's just so well written. Yeah, I will quibble with the faint conservatism that pervades it, with the handling of some of the characters, or the tropes that are leaned upon - but my gods, it's well written and just good to read.

So, the premise is simply this: when the Ursula Todd dies, her life begins again from the start. While she cannot strictly remember her earlier lives, trace memories linger, allowing her to guide this 'replay'. This is the only fantastical aspect of the novel, and Ursula is not the only active agent: her fate is affected to some extent by chance, and the decisions of others. This premise offers quite some commentary in what it means to live our best lives, and how even the smallest decisions can send us on wildly differing courses, making us vastly different people.

But the real strength of Life After Life is not in exploring such questions - rather it is offering us a powerful vision of the various lives one could live in the first half of the twentieth century (limited, of course, by gender, class, sexuality and skin colour.)
[Mild spoilers below] 

Monday, 4 March 2019

Review: Fighting Proud - Stephen Bourne

Oh, dear, that is quite a large pile of books I've read but not reviewed yet. I'm even going to miss LGBT+ History month by the time this one goes live and I read it in December...

Moving on anyhow, I picked up Fighting Proud, The untold story of the gay men who served in two World Wars in Norwich's wonderful The Book Hive as pre-Christmas present to myself after getting a full set of stamps on my loyalty card by buying books for other people. The title caught my interest and, unlike a lot of non-fiction I've read, Fighting Proud does exactly what it says on the tin - delivering in sparse, engaging prose, a compendium of information about the (primarily British) men who served in the Forces during the First and Second World Wars. While it does address famous figures like Wilfred Owen, Ivor Novello, Noël Coward and Alan Turing, Bourne fulfils the 'untold story' as much as possible by making the the focus the book on the ordinary gay serviceman, and an examination of the social mores surrounding homosexuality in the military at the time.

Honestly, it's a fascinating read. Using photographs, letters, personal writings and - where possible - interviews, Bourne creates a well structured, highly readable book that is informative, rigorous, compelling, and in places deeply moving. With a focus primarily on the Second World War - due to an acknowledge paucity of sources for the First - Fighting Proud finds gay stories from the Army, Navy and Airforce, as well as paying attention to the experiences of gay men on the Home Front, and in the both the state sanctioned and independent entertainment industries of the time.

 I loved it, and devoured it at a speed with which I usually struggle to read non-fiction books. Bourne portrays excellently the 'knife-edge' of homophobia, prejudice, with which men who had sex with men had to live in those periods, as well as the tacit (and occasionally open) recognition by comrades and officers that "these things happen." More importantly, it makes a very clear statement of the fact that 'we were always here', and that homosexual desire, love, and devotion, are not a new phenomenon in any part of society, or among any type of person - regardless of politics.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Fighting Proud is primarily concerned with the service record of those whose stories it tells - and I think if the book has a weakness it's the way it sits uneasily between being a queer history and a military history, and operating a little tentatively with its appeal to either discipline. There were a couple of moments where one felt oneself being bombarded with military accolades so that an archetypal straight reader would come to understand that Gay People Can Be Brave, Too. Also, from a personal perspective, I would have preferred more attention to be paid to the books subjects as men outside of their military service, but this is less a request for a different study than for more of this book - and it will certainly send me off to do some further reading, especially on Ian Gleed, of whom I had criminally not heard before this book.

My only other real criticism would be the ever-contentious issue of modern labels in queer historical context. Bourne is very careful in this project to rely upon his sources and not make any but relatively conservative statements about the orientation, or indeed gender, of his subjects. While a love letter between two men can generally be read fairly unambiguously*, examining possible transgender history in a time when not only transition, but even the language to describe it, was not accessible to most people is an intensely difficult undertaking. The line between drag and trans identity isn't clear or stable even now, and many closeted people use drag as an outlet before - or indeed, instead of - coming out**. As such, I feel perhaps a little more house room could have been given to possible trans interpretations of cross-dressing and gender non-conformity in certain cases, even if - in the absence of more solid evidence - Bourne was reluctant to commit himself to such a reading.

Similarly, Bourne generally divides his subjects in to those who were gay and those who had gay experiences when in all-male environs but were otherwise straight, but seldom does the word 'bisexual' make an appearance. While I appreciate that many of these men would disown that label heartily, as an historian who shows such sensitivity when regarding how homophobia and self-closeting problematise writing the history of gay men, it is a little disappointing that he does not address the effects of structural biphobia and the self-erasure and closeting that many bisexual men face even today.

However, Fighting Proud is still an immensely valuable book and one I will doubtless revisit. Well worth your dime.

 * despite what some historians insist...
** Not that I speak from experience or anything

Monday, 3 December 2012

What the Dickens?

I have a feeling I've written before about missing the fucking point. Surely it must have come up, at least once in this blog, that far from being the respectable face of Literature, Shakespeare was a filthy minded bastard writing for a group of people who were considered little better than whores? That theatre, far from being an institution, was something known to contemporaries as 'The Anti-Christ's lewd hat'1?

This actually hasn't come up?

Nah, it must have done.

So, I shan't bang on about tidying up the past, about assuming things were simpler and more respectable than they were2. I shan't make a fuss about the mistaken concept that those really pretty clothes confer some kind of moral value upon a time period, I will simply say that I get it.

Honestly, I do get it, this need to romanticise the past. I get that if we don't romanticise something we might as well give up now. On a day-to-day basis, this ability to imagine is sometimes what makes it worth getting out of bed in the morning.

So, by all means – enjoy your fiction about Lords and Ladies, lusty gamekeepers, great artistic genius, the Golden Age of chivalry or whatever it is that floats your boat. But two small requests? Bear in mind it had fuck all basis in reality. And, please, please don't make my sense of irony jump down my throat and drown me in my own misspent bile.

This is particularly relevant when it comes to books, and to writers. There is a significant and important line between “dreamy eyed fan fic” and “what is actually going on in the fucking novel”. Of course, Henry Tilney is the perfect man, and life would be a much so much duller if I... *ahem*, I mean one... couldn't indulge in the odd teenage style daydream complete with anachronistic attitudes to gender and pre-marital sex. However, one really should remember that – while it is about marriage - Northanger Abbey is far more satire than romance. Have as many wet dreams as you like about Fitzwilliam Darcy but do take care to remember that Austen was an acerbic and potentially cynical woman. And don't buy this. Please, don't buy this: http://www.etsy.com/listing/115163054/honoring-jane-austen-this-pillow?ref=v1_other_2

However that particular travesty of literary interpretation is not the reason for this little rant. Not even slightly. No, this weekend past I found myself back in my old stomping ground of North Kent and managed, somewhat against my intentions, to wander into the centre of Rochester in the middle of its Dickensian Christmas extravaganza.

Now, Rochester is very proud of Dickens and, while he's not my personal cup of tea, I do think it's nice that a local writer gets the full treatment of adoration and civic display3. So, for one weekend only, Rochester turned out into its Victorian best. Crinolines abounded. The odd Gothic minded young women did a passable (and potentially inadvertent) impression of a demi-mondaine. Soldiers wore those terribly impractical but wonderfully smart red uniforms4, and one wanker missed the point entirely and turned up with a pair of goggles on his topper5.

Okay, there were very few rickets. There was no ostentatious penury, infant mortality or displays of brutality. There were not even the plimsolled, soot-faced waifs that frequent May's Sweeps' Festival6. And, yes, omitting all these is to downplay Dickens' role as a writer pushing for social reform but, I'll concede that good clean fun and late 19th Century conditions of deprivation are perhaps mutually exclusive. Then I saw it. Letters three feet high, blazoned across a refreshment marquee:

Miss Havisham's Tea Tent.

You... you don't mean that?

Right?

Wanker with the goggles? Come back. All is forgiven.


2Or, indeed, grimier and more miserable.
3Actually, I'd rather we did it rather more often, only with less of the attendant nationalism, but you know...
4And pith helmets, which was a little unexpected outside of the colonies (and no, it wasn't a Home Service helmet.) but maybe they were supposed to be on leave.
5Actually, I love steam-punk, but that is now the OMT for steam-punk garb at an historical event.
6Well, it was a bit chilly and certain agencies would complain if the council pushed historical accuracy to its fullest.