Observations on Conversations with Friends - more on Sally Rooney

I wrote previously about Sally Rooney's Normal People (NP). It's fair to say that I was not especially impressed. But I have now read Conversations with Friends (CWF) and doing so has changed my thinking about NP. It's not that I am any more impressed with NP than I was, but I have a better understanding of what NP was trying to do and why it was so well-received.

Below the break I set out, first, what is good about CWF (especially compared to NP), then a couple of caveats and, finally, why I think NP got much higher praise than it deserved.

Japan (part III): the stuff that Twitter loves - babies, YIMBYism and religion

Enough of musing about holidays! It's time for Issues with a capital I. Let's take it away with the big 3 favourites of Twitter (by which I mean X and all its imitators): babies, YIMBYism and religion. 

I repeat that I don't pretend to understand Japan: all I intend to do below is to set out some relevant observations on these topics. I leave both the explanations and the lessons to be learned for more qualified people. 

Japan (part II): the sights

I started this series of posts by describing the experience of being in Japan. One reason I did so is because that experience is one of the highlights of visiting Japan. More fundamentally, in this post I will suggest that you need to consider the sights of Japan as a whole in experiential terms. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that "sights" - meaning, things that are to be seen - is the wrong word and "gestalt experiences" would be a better phrase, but this post is already sufficiently pretentious. Time for a break.

Japan (part I): Being in Japan

I have recently returned from a trip to Japan. Just as when I went to Korea, I have come back convinced that I am now the fount of all wisdom about the country. But rather than give you the full "Mysteries of the Land of the Rising Sun"-style thinkpiece, laden with gnomic quotations from Bashō, I will instead provide some helpful and accurate observations about Japan today, and I will do so over the course of a number of posts. (A full set of profound insights is of course available on request through the usual channels.)

I will start with this post, in which I try to give an explanation of what it is like to be in Japan. Subsequent posts will address other topics of interest to people thinking of travelling to Japan or simply interested in the normal topics of this blog.

TL;DR - you should visit Japan. You should visit it now.

On being frozen in time - and on looking forward

The end of a living thing has the effect of bringing equality to every moment in its life. Let me try to explain what I mean.

Think of one of those long prestige TV series. What is it? It is what it is right now: right at this point, series 7 episode 4 or whatever. But, when it ends, no moment within its life is privileged in this way. You might prefer this series or consider its peak to be that episode. But each one of these, for better or worse, is equally what it - the series itself - is.

Or, more seriously, think of a human life. You might have seen someone growing older, weaker, dying. Who are they? What is their condition? An old, weak, dying person, sadly. But after their death, their whole life is equally who they are (or were, if you prefer - it makes no difference to my point). Perhaps you have been to a funeral or memorial service with an order of service adorned by photographs of a much younger, healthier and happier person than the one you knew. And rightly so. That person - the one in their pomp and their prime - is the one you are remembering too.

More significant than even the most CGI'd American TV series, but much less important than a human life, we are, it seems, coming to the end of a government. (Yes, pedants, I know that Parliament has already been dissolved. You know what I mean.) When it has been finally dispatched, it will immediately acquire that quality of temporal indifference that both your great great aunt and Game of Thrones have: there is no "now" to take precedence over the other moments of its existence; it's up to you what you remember of it; and perhaps it's up to history to decide what part of it matters.

The government that is to come will one day have that quality too. It will one day be over and frozen in time. No life - no TV series, even - consists of nothing but high points, and I doubt that anyone claim that either this government is the exception or that the next one will be. But I think all people of goodwill can hope there will be some good episodes to replay, some joyful photos for the albums, for us to take from what is to come.

How to get better MPs; or Why things were better in the past

You have, I am sure, heard the plaintive cries: politicians nowadays - a bunch of pygmies! Useless, drab, uninspiring, hopeless! How we can get better MPs? 

The problem seems to be this: there are plenty of MP-adjacent people (spads, for example, and various public policy sorts) who are bright and able, and generally interested in the job, but the job itself looks so off-putting that they don't go for it. How can we change that? 

This old chestnut came up recently on an online platform (not Twitter, but let's say Twitter). There was some talk about pay, but a couple of intelligent people pointed out that the bigger issues are matters such as losing your job overnight or being less employable after doing it.

Now, we need to be clear that, in a functioning democracy, there must always be the possibility of going overnight from running the country to being essentially a nobody. That's a feature, not a bug. But it's a fair point that being removed from power should not mean personal disaster, and it's also true that if the job requires people to accept the risk of personal disaster then it will (a) attract some pretty odd people and (b) incentivise them to do some pretty odd things once they get power (for fear of that very disaster).

Were MPs better in the past? I don't know. But it seems to me that there were a variety of features of political life in place a generation or so ago (now, I'm afraid, routinely roundly despised) that mitigated these worries about personal disaster. If MPs were better, perhaps these are some of the reasons why. Let me take you through them (below the break).

Some short (and often negative) book reviews

As I have repeatedly said, I'm a great believer in the useful book review. Please consider these reviews in that spirit.

Shy, Max Porter

I'm a fan of Max Porter. I'd say a big fan: I thought Grief is the Thing with Feathers was amazing and I loved Lanny too. But I'm sorry to say that Shy is only for the Porter completists. It's a Jez Butterworth's Jerusalem-England type thing, with Porter-esque quirks. Fine, but you may well have better uses for your time. 

Gimpel the Fool and Other Stories, Isaac Bashevis Singer

The title story is quite good, probably worth your time, but that one's head and shoulders better than the other ones in the collection, a surprising number of which feature demons. (Surprising to me, anyway, given that I was expecting charming, anecdote-ish stories of the old shtetls.)

The Fraud, Zadie Smith

God gives burdens, also shoulders, as Gimpel says. One of my happily-shouldered burdens is to review all of Smith's work (see this blog, passim). I would describe The Fraud as a careful book: it's entertaining and interesting enough, light and readable, but it lacks something of the zip and energy - the sheer aliveness - of her best work. The pros include her imaginative sympathy for different people, always one of her strengths: in this book, it's the second Mrs Ainsworth who stands out in this regard, as Smith can't help but turn someone we might laugh at into a real person. The cons include the sex life of the main character, which seems under-motivated, to my (male) mind. I described The Autograph Man as rather indulgent of the literary male: perhaps The Fraud is in part an attempt to redress the balance, although even in laughing at the various literary male, Smith can't help seeing something of value to him.

Babel, RF Kuang
Prepare for a slightly longer review here.

Babel is, in many ways, one of the worst books I have ever read. And it surely must be one of the worst books to get a glowing review in the British broadsheet press and to win multiple prizes. Don't worry - I'll get to the 'buts' in a bit, but I can't let you loose on a book set in a (slightly) alternative reality Oxford of the 1830s without warning you that it is absolutely chocka with Americanisms and anachronisms: a character says "just a tad", there is sticky toffee pudding, there are docents and postdocs, the female undergraduates (there is an explanation for the very existence of female undergraduates - it's not that silly) hang out in male undergraduates' bedrooms, a "Professor" says that she won't get "tenure", every thought appears to involve 21st century racial categories and so on. I don't know that every page contains a howler, but I'm pretty confident that every chapter does. At one point someone says (in effect) "when you were in London, did you see the King?" and receives the reply "William? No, what with the Poor Law and the Factory Act, there's been a lot of rioting so he stays at home" (yes, the "William?" is genuinely in there). The whole thing is terribly woke as well: everyone who is non-white (including some "Black" with a capital B characters) is a goody and almost everyone who is white is a baddy (the main exceptions being Luddites and a few other honest working class characters); killing innocent people is bad if you're white but, I think, ok if you're not; the British Empire is super-bad in every way, including being maybe responsible for the state of Haiti, but somehow also incompetent and idiotic; oh, and I almost forgot to mention that British people boil their food too much and don't use seasoning (although our cakes seem to be ok).

It's high time for the "buts", of which I have two. The first "but" is that the book is an fascinating glimpse into a modern worldview in which universities are massively powerful. For reasons that make (somewhat) more sense in the alternative reality of the book (in which silver plus skilled translators equals powerful magic) than in real life, the climax of the story comes when a group of undergraduates seek to overthrow the British Empire by [if you're going to read it, turn away now] ... seizing control of a university building! Other glimpses of this worldview are also evident: for example, an Oxford Professor is seen as a high-prestige job that might plausibly come with a high-status wife (yes, I know - married professors in the 1830s ...), a house in Hampstead and a country estate. At one point we are shown some 'aesthete' undergraduates, almost all of whom are set on having careers in the professions after Oxford: again, the idea is that universities control access to power and wealth and, allied to that, that high-prestige jobs are the source of power and wealth. 

That may be just a sociological insight you weren't terribly interested in, but my second 'but' is a more literary one: it's actually not a bad read. Not bad at all. I read it all the way to the end, despite everything that was silly and annoying about it, and at each point I wanted to know what happened next. The action was well-paced, the characters, twists and so on were all well-done. (In fact, it had such merit that I half-suspected that there was going to be a really big twist - e.g., that China were to replace Britain as imperial hegemon - and turn out just as bad! But sadly no.) I am not the target audience for an anti-colonialist tirade, but I enjoyed it. If you took the book, removed all the wokery and replaced the historical details with something plausible (or perhaps set it in a sci-fi world where it made sense) then it would just be a cracking good read. 

So my final verdict is that Kuang is a writer of real talent. She's still young and I expect that her mature work will be pretty solid.

The Ebb Tide, Robert Louis Stevenson 

Cracking good novella. Would make a great film (indeed, I see that it has been filmed a few times, although the still from the French adaptation here gives you precisely the wrong idea of what the book is like), although I'd change the ending for the big screen. Also, it is a more effective attack on colonialism than Babel.