Thomas Cromwell was only a distant relative of the more famous Oliver Cromwell. I suppose we know most about him from A Man for All Seasons in which Leo Mckern played him as a fat and ugly villain against the saintly Thomas More of Paul Scofield.
Hillary Mantell's 2009 Booker Prize winner, Wolf Hall presents a very different figure. It is historical fiction, of course, but it does fit with my own prejudices. First of all, this is a wonderful read and I must try out more of her books.
Cromwell was the son of a blacksmith who was abused by his father. He left home at the age of 16 after a particularly bad beating. He went abroad and worked in the French Army and for Italian bankers and Dutch merchants before training as a lawyer. He was a very clever man who was fluent in nine languages including Welsh. It was said that he could recite the whole of the Vulgate New Testament in Latin.
On returning to England he made himself useful to Cardinal Worsley, the Lord Chancellor. Worsley himself was of lowly origins, being the son of a butcher. His means of rising in Society was through the Church; he became a Cardinal. Henry VIII got rid of him on the pretence of divided loyalties. In fact, it was because he could not secure him an annulment of his first marriage, something that Cromwell did succeed in, at the expense of divorcing himself from the Catholic Church.
I think that Cromwell was a true Reformer, albeit a pragmatic one. He supported Tyndale's testament in English and looked after, as best he could, the reformers within his merchant colleagues and among Cambridge scholars.
You have to consider Henry's position. It was only 25 years since the end of the Wars of the Roses and his position as King was easily threatened by Pretenders. The succession had to be secured. England was then a small country without the resources of France, Spain or the Holy Roman Emperor (basically Germany). He liked the glamor of war, but he couldn't afford to fight one. Cromwell's power base was his access to foreign loans, but how could they be repaid? Obviously from the dissolution of the monasteries, which were rich, corrupt and useless. Cromwell's Protestant heart was glad to dissolve them. Thomas More turns out to be an evil character, who was jesuitical in his reasoning, cruel to his opponents and unpleasant to his own wife.
The book ends with Cromwell powerful. More beheaded, and Anne Boleyn miscarrying. There will be a sequel.
Showing posts with label Literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Literature. Show all posts
Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Our kind of traitor
I have just finished the latest (and perhaps last) John le Carre novel, Our Kind of Traitor. This is I think the 21st and I have read most of them. The general theme is of betrayal and since le Carre worked as a spy in the cold war period, he probably knows more about betrayal than most. I particularly liked this book because it was set in places that I am familiar with. Part is set in Paris where we enjoyed a few days break a few years ago, bringing back memories of the Rodin Museum and the department store Printemps and part is set in the Bernese Oberland reminding me of the best holiday I ever had, in Wengen in August.
le Carre is a local man with connections to Dorset and Wiltshire. I think his father had some connection to local government in Poole and he went to school at Sherborne. His writing is excellent, much more a mainstream novelist than a genre writer.
The story of this latest book is ostensibly about the Russian Mafia, but really about the corruption of the higher echelons of British society where money talks louder than morals. I think it was triggered by stories of Peter Mandelson and George Osborne seen together on the yacht of a Russian oligarch a few years ago.
The ending will be familiar to anyone who has read le Carre's other books.
le Carre is a local man with connections to Dorset and Wiltshire. I think his father had some connection to local government in Poole and he went to school at Sherborne. His writing is excellent, much more a mainstream novelist than a genre writer.
The story of this latest book is ostensibly about the Russian Mafia, but really about the corruption of the higher echelons of British society where money talks louder than morals. I think it was triggered by stories of Peter Mandelson and George Osborne seen together on the yacht of a Russian oligarch a few years ago.
The ending will be familiar to anyone who has read le Carre's other books.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Heartstone
I have just finished reading the new CJ Sansom book Heartstone. This is the latest Shardlake adventure set in 1545. Those who know their history will immediately jump to the Mary Rose, Henry VIII's doomed galleon that went down in Portsmouth Harbor. Guess what? Shardlake was in it! Does he escape? There were only 35 survivors among 500 crew and soldiers.
This is yet another tour de force from Sanson's lawyer-sleuth. Many of the same characters are assembled and at over 600 pages it will keep you turmimg them for many an evening when you could have been watching televison.
This is yet another tour de force from Sanson's lawyer-sleuth. Many of the same characters are assembled and at over 600 pages it will keep you turmimg them for many an evening when you could have been watching televison.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
What I've been reading
In the past week I have read two books.
Rose Tremain's novel The Road Home tells the story of an Eastern European immigrant to England. He finds that the streets of London are not paved with gold, that £20 a day is not enough to live on and that Englishmen are not tall, ascetic and witty, fellows with bowler hats and umbrellas, but mostly denizens of the Commonwealth and fat. Reduced to sleeping in doorways, he takes jobs delivering fliers for a kebab stall, picking asparagus in Lincolnshire and washing dishes in a smart restaurant. The people he meets include an Irish drunk, a couple of Chinese homosexuals, a curmudgeonly farmer, a sweet old lady abandoned to a residential home by uncaring children, and many from the London art scene whom Tremain lampoons for their being dressed in the Emperor's New Clothes. Lev, the immigrant, has just lost his wife to leukemia and is emotionally stifled because of this, yet he manages to negotiate his way through the minefield to a happy ending.
No such happy ending for Marcus Trescothick. I am not normally a fan of sporting biographies, but this one is a bit different. Coming back to me tells the story of England's opening batsman, who at the height of his success succumbs to an acute anxiety neurosis. It makes him unable to tour other countries and signals the end of his career as an international cricketer. Frankly I could do with out the, "I scored 47 and 63 in the two innings at Lords but after that I reached my highest test score against the Bangladeshis of 197 at Edgbaston." You can skip all that; just take it for read that he was a very good batsman. What is interesting is how he handled the anxiety and depression and how unaware the cricket management were of the problem. The press were vile, assuming that the problem was a sexual peccadillo of him or his wife.
I liked the explanation given to him by his counsellor. "Depressive illness, caused by stress, nearly always happens to one sort of person. He or she will have the following characteristics; moral strength, reliability, diligence, strong conscience, strong sense of responsibility, a tendency to focus on the needs of others before one's own, sensitivity, vulnerability to criticism, and self-esteem dependent on the evaluation of others. This person is the sort to whom you would turn if you had a problem to sort out upon which your house depended, a safe pair of hands you can trust with your life, though often taken somewhat for granted. People are very surprised when he gets ill; indeed he is the last person you would expect to have a breakdown."
Rose Tremain's novel The Road Home tells the story of an Eastern European immigrant to England. He finds that the streets of London are not paved with gold, that £20 a day is not enough to live on and that Englishmen are not tall, ascetic and witty, fellows with bowler hats and umbrellas, but mostly denizens of the Commonwealth and fat. Reduced to sleeping in doorways, he takes jobs delivering fliers for a kebab stall, picking asparagus in Lincolnshire and washing dishes in a smart restaurant. The people he meets include an Irish drunk, a couple of Chinese homosexuals, a curmudgeonly farmer, a sweet old lady abandoned to a residential home by uncaring children, and many from the London art scene whom Tremain lampoons for their being dressed in the Emperor's New Clothes. Lev, the immigrant, has just lost his wife to leukemia and is emotionally stifled because of this, yet he manages to negotiate his way through the minefield to a happy ending.
No such happy ending for Marcus Trescothick. I am not normally a fan of sporting biographies, but this one is a bit different. Coming back to me tells the story of England's opening batsman, who at the height of his success succumbs to an acute anxiety neurosis. It makes him unable to tour other countries and signals the end of his career as an international cricketer. Frankly I could do with out the, "I scored 47 and 63 in the two innings at Lords but after that I reached my highest test score against the Bangladeshis of 197 at Edgbaston." You can skip all that; just take it for read that he was a very good batsman. What is interesting is how he handled the anxiety and depression and how unaware the cricket management were of the problem. The press were vile, assuming that the problem was a sexual peccadillo of him or his wife.
I liked the explanation given to him by his counsellor. "Depressive illness, caused by stress, nearly always happens to one sort of person. He or she will have the following characteristics; moral strength, reliability, diligence, strong conscience, strong sense of responsibility, a tendency to focus on the needs of others before one's own, sensitivity, vulnerability to criticism, and self-esteem dependent on the evaluation of others. This person is the sort to whom you would turn if you had a problem to sort out upon which your house depended, a safe pair of hands you can trust with your life, though often taken somewhat for granted. People are very surprised when he gets ill; indeed he is the last person you would expect to have a breakdown."
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Scarecrow
I have just finished the Michael Connelly novel, "The Scarecrow", the second of my Christmas books. A smashing read. What I like about these stories is that there is a set of characters who appear in the novels, but not all of them are in all the books. Harry Bosch is not in this one, but he is in the next, 'Nine Dragons', which I will start tonight.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
The Complaints
Just finished the new Ian Rankin that I had for Christmas. The Complaints concerns that branch of the police force that investigates complaints against police officers. The hero is Malcolm Fox who is not too unlike the Malcolm Fox that I know.
Rankin without Rebus remains a good read.
Rankin without Rebus remains a good read.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Reading and sleeping
Day 15: this is my first day of a third week without chemotherapy. The side effects were getting so bad that I have been given a week's respite this time. Yesterday was a bad day with no energy and I spent a lot of it sleeping, but today seems to be starting OK. The neuropathy is no better. It is a strange phenomenon. Pain and temperature is preserved, as is deep touch, but fine touch has gone. I think also there has been a loss of propriaception though this is harder to self measure. It is of characteristic 'glove and stocking' distribution, extending up my legs to halfway up my calves. It also involves the front two thirds of my tongue. It has affected my taste too. I have really gone off sweet things, especially strawberry, which I now loathe. However, some milk chocolates are very helpful, both for calories and for soothing my stomach, though very sweet chocolate is not welcome. I have a craving for savories, especially bitter things. Apricot, rhubarb, gooseberries all find favor. I dare say that a pint of bitter would go down well, though I am off alcohol.
We were promised a scorching summer, but July has been rather wet after Wimbledon. What has characterized this summer has been the wind. Living on the coast we normally experience cooling breezes to ameliorate the heat in summer, but this year it has mostly been too cold to sit out in the garden. Today is another overcast, showery day.
I have been reading John Le Carre's "A Most Wanted Man". It is a despairing look at modern life. Set in Germany, it explores the modern world of espionage directed against the Islamist threat. Germany is depicted as weak and ineffectual with one half of the Intelligence services in thrall to the Americans, and the other half part of the Human Rights mafia. America is clearly the villain; they do terrible things including extraordinary rendition, but are excused as being ignorant as Johnny-come-latelies to the spying game. The British are the worst, as they not only do terrible things, but they know what they are doing.
The reader is obviously meant to sympathize with the oppressed half Chechnyen/half Russian who has been tortured and imprisoned by both Russians and Turks, and with the rather naive British banker and German lawyer, but I am not sure whether I do. It seems probable that the Chechnyen was involved in terrorism albeit against the Russian beast, the Brit was a failure as a banker, husband and father and what is more acquiesced to his own father's money laundering. The young female German lawyer sees good in bad people and turns a blind eye to their crimes. In the end a man responsible for funding atrocities and assassinations is scooped up by the Americans to the disgust of one German group that wanted to turn him and use him to destroy Islamist terror from within.
Overall, the story presents a picture of how complex the 'War on Terror' is. Nothing is black and white and people have different opinions on shades of grey.
I spent some of the time reading the book in the garden on our swing chair. When the sun shines the garden looks very well with the hydrangeas all in full bloom as well as the lavender and potentillas. Buddleias are attracting bees and butterflies and the large tubs are overflowing with red, pink and white begonias. Smaller pots house white, red and orange double begonias. The fuchsias have been poor this year but patches of orange montbretia liven up the green, for green is everywhere. There is no sign of brown on the lawn, which is more meadow than grass, having seen a crop of daisies, then clover and now a yellow vetch.
I have had to take out one of the yew trees in our front hedge as it had died on us. I hope that the two adjacent trees will bridge the gap in time. Still, we have a new gardener who will, I hope, know about these things.
We were promised a scorching summer, but July has been rather wet after Wimbledon. What has characterized this summer has been the wind. Living on the coast we normally experience cooling breezes to ameliorate the heat in summer, but this year it has mostly been too cold to sit out in the garden. Today is another overcast, showery day.
I have been reading John Le Carre's "A Most Wanted Man". It is a despairing look at modern life. Set in Germany, it explores the modern world of espionage directed against the Islamist threat. Germany is depicted as weak and ineffectual with one half of the Intelligence services in thrall to the Americans, and the other half part of the Human Rights mafia. America is clearly the villain; they do terrible things including extraordinary rendition, but are excused as being ignorant as Johnny-come-latelies to the spying game. The British are the worst, as they not only do terrible things, but they know what they are doing.
The reader is obviously meant to sympathize with the oppressed half Chechnyen/half Russian who has been tortured and imprisoned by both Russians and Turks, and with the rather naive British banker and German lawyer, but I am not sure whether I do. It seems probable that the Chechnyen was involved in terrorism albeit against the Russian beast, the Brit was a failure as a banker, husband and father and what is more acquiesced to his own father's money laundering. The young female German lawyer sees good in bad people and turns a blind eye to their crimes. In the end a man responsible for funding atrocities and assassinations is scooped up by the Americans to the disgust of one German group that wanted to turn him and use him to destroy Islamist terror from within.
Overall, the story presents a picture of how complex the 'War on Terror' is. Nothing is black and white and people have different opinions on shades of grey.
I spent some of the time reading the book in the garden on our swing chair. When the sun shines the garden looks very well with the hydrangeas all in full bloom as well as the lavender and potentillas. Buddleias are attracting bees and butterflies and the large tubs are overflowing with red, pink and white begonias. Smaller pots house white, red and orange double begonias. The fuchsias have been poor this year but patches of orange montbretia liven up the green, for green is everywhere. There is no sign of brown on the lawn, which is more meadow than grass, having seen a crop of daisies, then clover and now a yellow vetch.
I have had to take out one of the yew trees in our front hedge as it had died on us. I hope that the two adjacent trees will bridge the gap in time. Still, we have a new gardener who will, I hope, know about these things.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Codex
The Codex Sinaiticus has been virtually reassembled and made available on line to those who can read Hellenistic Greek. It has been an occasion for atheists to disparage the Bible and talk about discrepancies.
Actually there is only one major point of issue between early manuscripts, and that is whether or not to include the story of the woman taken in adultery at the end of John chapter 8. (Though I suppose there are some who believe that the strange ending to Mark 16 was not a late addition.) The John story should be included, I believe, since it is more likely to have been removed by prudes than inserted by liberals. In any case there is another instance of Jesus being forgiving to promiscuous women; the Samaritan woman at the well.
I have a book on my shelf entitled 'Alleged discrepancies in the Bible' which goes to great length to explain and refute every alleged discrepancy. I believe that most are due to failure to appreciate literary form.
Any story can be told in many ways. I once wrote anonymous leaders for both the BMJ and the Lancet in the same week on the same topic, but wrote them in their respective house styles that were so different that nobody suspected that they were by the same author. In Japan a story might be told according to the tradition of tyhe Noh play; in Russia the story might be told by dance according to classical ballet. Falstaff can be a character in Shakespeare's plays (Henry IV parts I and II, Henry V and Merry Wives of Windsor) or a character in Verdi's opera. In each case his story is told differently. We are used to reading novels, where action usually follows sequentially in a fairly naturalistic way, but the novel as a literary form is only about 400 years old. And some novels are not in this form at all. Ulysses by James Joyce certainly isn't. When we watch a movie we often assume it to be naturalistic, but listen, there is usually no music playing in real life action. Homer and Virgil wrote they stories as poetry; Sophocles wrote drama where the actors covered their faces with sad or happy masks. The same story may be told in several literary genres. Science fiction, chick lit, western, cops and robbers, period drama or impressionist modern novel may all be telling the same story of love and betrayal or greed and rebellion.
We should not assume when reading the gospels that they should flow sequentially like a novel or a biography, on the contrary they were polemics, designed to convince their readers or hearers that Jesus Christ was the Messiah. Form was dependent on the message. Matthew's gospel is replete with Old Testament references, designed to stress how Jesus fulfilled the prophecies about the coming Messiah; Mark on the other hand almost certainly is dependent on Peter's recollections and reflects his experience of accepting and preaching to the Gentiles. Time and again we see teh Jews-to-Gentiles transition. It is the structure that dictates the sequence of stories, not the time line.
Actually there is only one major point of issue between early manuscripts, and that is whether or not to include the story of the woman taken in adultery at the end of John chapter 8. (Though I suppose there are some who believe that the strange ending to Mark 16 was not a late addition.) The John story should be included, I believe, since it is more likely to have been removed by prudes than inserted by liberals. In any case there is another instance of Jesus being forgiving to promiscuous women; the Samaritan woman at the well.
I have a book on my shelf entitled 'Alleged discrepancies in the Bible' which goes to great length to explain and refute every alleged discrepancy. I believe that most are due to failure to appreciate literary form.
Any story can be told in many ways. I once wrote anonymous leaders for both the BMJ and the Lancet in the same week on the same topic, but wrote them in their respective house styles that were so different that nobody suspected that they were by the same author. In Japan a story might be told according to the tradition of tyhe Noh play; in Russia the story might be told by dance according to classical ballet. Falstaff can be a character in Shakespeare's plays (Henry IV parts I and II, Henry V and Merry Wives of Windsor) or a character in Verdi's opera. In each case his story is told differently. We are used to reading novels, where action usually follows sequentially in a fairly naturalistic way, but the novel as a literary form is only about 400 years old. And some novels are not in this form at all. Ulysses by James Joyce certainly isn't. When we watch a movie we often assume it to be naturalistic, but listen, there is usually no music playing in real life action. Homer and Virgil wrote they stories as poetry; Sophocles wrote drama where the actors covered their faces with sad or happy masks. The same story may be told in several literary genres. Science fiction, chick lit, western, cops and robbers, period drama or impressionist modern novel may all be telling the same story of love and betrayal or greed and rebellion.
We should not assume when reading the gospels that they should flow sequentially like a novel or a biography, on the contrary they were polemics, designed to convince their readers or hearers that Jesus Christ was the Messiah. Form was dependent on the message. Matthew's gospel is replete with Old Testament references, designed to stress how Jesus fulfilled the prophecies about the coming Messiah; Mark on the other hand almost certainly is dependent on Peter's recollections and reflects his experience of accepting and preaching to the Gentiles. Time and again we see teh Jews-to-Gentiles transition. It is the structure that dictates the sequence of stories, not the time line.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Recent Reading
I had my sixth course today with a 25% dose reduction of the oxaliplatin. I already have the cold induced pins and needles, but let's wait and see if the dose reduction does reduce the side effects. Tomorrow I have a CT scan to assess response.
What have I been doing recently? Mostly reading. The books that I have completed in the past couple of weeks since finishing the new Lee Child are three thrillers: "Drop Shot" by Harlen Coben - with much borrowing from Hitchcock's "Strangers on a Train" - "A Good Day to Die" by Simon Kernick and "The Last Watchman" by Robert Crais. I have also read Bernard Cornwell's "Sharpe's Story" a make weight done for charity and I have re-read CS Lewis's "Out of the Silent Planet". I last read that about 50 years ago and could remember very little of it. I read it in conjunction with "Planet Narnia" which I am working my way through. The first of the Science fiction trilogy is about Mars which looms large in the Lewis pantheon. "Prince Caspian" in my next book and also comes under the Martian influence. "War of the Worlds" by HG Wells expressly states the link between Mars and war and Lewis is an interesting Christian writer who clearly feels that pacifism is wrong. He famously wrote a piece entitled, "Why I am not a pacifist".
If I felt fitter I would write at length about this subject, but I will finish with a quote from the Cornwell book and invite my readers to comment on the question of Christianity and pacifism. "A soldier fights battles for those who cannot fight for themselves."
What have I been doing recently? Mostly reading. The books that I have completed in the past couple of weeks since finishing the new Lee Child are three thrillers: "Drop Shot" by Harlen Coben - with much borrowing from Hitchcock's "Strangers on a Train" - "A Good Day to Die" by Simon Kernick and "The Last Watchman" by Robert Crais. I have also read Bernard Cornwell's "Sharpe's Story" a make weight done for charity and I have re-read CS Lewis's "Out of the Silent Planet". I last read that about 50 years ago and could remember very little of it. I read it in conjunction with "Planet Narnia" which I am working my way through. The first of the Science fiction trilogy is about Mars which looms large in the Lewis pantheon. "Prince Caspian" in my next book and also comes under the Martian influence. "War of the Worlds" by HG Wells expressly states the link between Mars and war and Lewis is an interesting Christian writer who clearly feels that pacifism is wrong. He famously wrote a piece entitled, "Why I am not a pacifist".
If I felt fitter I would write at length about this subject, but I will finish with a quote from the Cornwell book and invite my readers to comment on the question of Christianity and pacifism. "A soldier fights battles for those who cannot fight for themselves."
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Dalziel and Pascoe
One of the few things that my father left me when he died 31 years ago was a battered paperback entitled 'A Clubable Woman'. It was the the volume that introduced PC Peter Pascoe to Superintendent Andy Dalziel (pronounced DEE-al). In my opinion Reginald Hill's inventions are the best creations in cop-show literature. If you have only seen the TV films you are missing a treat. To be sure Colin Buchanan and Warren Clarke are a great improvement on Hale and Pace who filmed 'A Pinch of Snuff' but even Clarke's ugliness and growing obesity do not do justice to Hill's description of the 'Fat Man' (Sidney Greenstreet perhaps, though I'm not sure he could do the Yorkshire accent). Incidentally, I watched the Anthony Hopkins film of Le Carre's 'Looking Glass War' the other day and was surprised to see a young slim and handsome Warren Clarke with fine blond hair. Colin Buchanan was fine as a young copper, but age and avoir du pois have turned him into a passable imitation of Andy. Watching them plod together with sour looks on their faces reminds one of how people and their dogs tend to resemble one another.
The books and the films diverged from one another after the first series, with the dropping of Ellie Pascoe and Sergeant Wield. They are both still in the books and the films are poorer for their loss.
I have just finished the two latest novels, 'The death of Dalziel' and 'The cure for all diseases' and I'm pleased to say that Reginald Hill is still in fine literary form.
The books and the films diverged from one another after the first series, with the dropping of Ellie Pascoe and Sergeant Wield. They are both still in the books and the films are poorer for their loss.
I have just finished the two latest novels, 'The death of Dalziel' and 'The cure for all diseases' and I'm pleased to say that Reginald Hill is still in fine literary form.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Little Dorrit
Everyone knows that what the BBC does best is its period dramas. After last year’s phenomenally successful 'Bleak House' it has just broadcast a new version of 'Little Dorrit' broken up into half hourly episodes. There is an older version starring Alec Guinness which I found unwatchable, but this one is the real goods. It will be broadcast on PBS Masterpiece in the New Year - don't miss it!
The elderly Dorrit, Father of Marshalsea, is played by Tom Courtenay and his daughter Amy (Little Dorrit) by Claire Foy. Matthew Macfadyen plays Arthur Clennam wonderfully well, even if he is too young for the part. The grotesques are glorious. Judy Parfitt as Mrs Clennam, Alun Armstrong as Jeremiah Flintwinch, Sue Johnson as Affery, Amanda Redman as Mrs Merdle, Ruth Jones as Flora Finching, and especially Andy Serkis as Rigaud.
It is well known that Dickens’s own father was committed to a debtor’s prison and he is the model for the elderly Dorrit, just as he was for Mr Micawber in David Copperfield. Despite his fame as a popular novelist and his ability to construct memorable characters, Dickens was principally a satirist and his target in this novel was mainly the debtor’s prison – long since disappeared. Do not think that the satire ends there, there are secondary targets. Government bureaucracy in the form of the Circumlocution Office is wonderfully portrayed. You need to stand in a line waiting to receive a form that you must fill in to ask permission to fill in a second form requesting permission to make a request of the office. It is run by Tite Barnacle (brilliantly portrayed by 82-year old Robert Hardy) and his family, whose aim in life is to do nothing and whose time is spent discussing matters of no consequence so as to avoid doing any work – and all for a fat salary and gold plated pension. Twenty years ago ‘Yes Minister’ demonstrated that the Civil Service had not changed and news items this week see it similarly set in stone. Civil Servants are looking for ways to prevent having to put into action a ministerial decree that criminals doing ‘community service’ should wear fluorescent jackets identifying them as such.
Even more relevant was the avaricious affluent society as a target. Mr Merdle, the ‘man of the moment’ into whose bank all Society wished to invest could well have been Bernie Madoff – he was running a similar ‘Ponzi scheme’. Mrs Merdle is referred to in the novel as ‘the bosom’ on which Mr Merdle displayed his jewels. Amanda Redman plays ‘the bosom’ very well indeed. The bankruptcy of Mr Merdle may be seen as just a plot device to bring a reversal of fortune to Arthur Clennam, but Dickens makes it a comment on both his and our society. Here’s what he wrote, “Numbers of men in every profession and trade would be blighted by his insolvency; old people who had been in easy circumstances all their lives would have no place for their repentance for their trust in him but the workhouse; legions of women and children would have their whole future desolated by this mighty scoundrel.”
As we see the fallout of the Madoff swindle we see how perceptive was Dickens. Already one naïve investor has killed himself. In the book it is Merdle himself who commits suicide (typically with a borrowed penknife in a hot bath). But the Dickensian description elevates this tawdry act to something more: "a new constellation to be followed by the wise men bringing gifts until it stopped over a certain carrion at the bottom of a bath and disappeared".
These greedy men who make the acquisition of money their end are the Antichrist, he says.
The elderly Dorrit, Father of Marshalsea, is played by Tom Courtenay and his daughter Amy (Little Dorrit) by Claire Foy. Matthew Macfadyen plays Arthur Clennam wonderfully well, even if he is too young for the part. The grotesques are glorious. Judy Parfitt as Mrs Clennam, Alun Armstrong as Jeremiah Flintwinch, Sue Johnson as Affery, Amanda Redman as Mrs Merdle, Ruth Jones as Flora Finching, and especially Andy Serkis as Rigaud.
It is well known that Dickens’s own father was committed to a debtor’s prison and he is the model for the elderly Dorrit, just as he was for Mr Micawber in David Copperfield. Despite his fame as a popular novelist and his ability to construct memorable characters, Dickens was principally a satirist and his target in this novel was mainly the debtor’s prison – long since disappeared. Do not think that the satire ends there, there are secondary targets. Government bureaucracy in the form of the Circumlocution Office is wonderfully portrayed. You need to stand in a line waiting to receive a form that you must fill in to ask permission to fill in a second form requesting permission to make a request of the office. It is run by Tite Barnacle (brilliantly portrayed by 82-year old Robert Hardy) and his family, whose aim in life is to do nothing and whose time is spent discussing matters of no consequence so as to avoid doing any work – and all for a fat salary and gold plated pension. Twenty years ago ‘Yes Minister’ demonstrated that the Civil Service had not changed and news items this week see it similarly set in stone. Civil Servants are looking for ways to prevent having to put into action a ministerial decree that criminals doing ‘community service’ should wear fluorescent jackets identifying them as such.
Even more relevant was the avaricious affluent society as a target. Mr Merdle, the ‘man of the moment’ into whose bank all Society wished to invest could well have been Bernie Madoff – he was running a similar ‘Ponzi scheme’. Mrs Merdle is referred to in the novel as ‘the bosom’ on which Mr Merdle displayed his jewels. Amanda Redman plays ‘the bosom’ very well indeed. The bankruptcy of Mr Merdle may be seen as just a plot device to bring a reversal of fortune to Arthur Clennam, but Dickens makes it a comment on both his and our society. Here’s what he wrote, “Numbers of men in every profession and trade would be blighted by his insolvency; old people who had been in easy circumstances all their lives would have no place for their repentance for their trust in him but the workhouse; legions of women and children would have their whole future desolated by this mighty scoundrel.”
As we see the fallout of the Madoff swindle we see how perceptive was Dickens. Already one naïve investor has killed himself. In the book it is Merdle himself who commits suicide (typically with a borrowed penknife in a hot bath). But the Dickensian description elevates this tawdry act to something more: "a new constellation to be followed by the wise men bringing gifts until it stopped over a certain carrion at the bottom of a bath and disappeared".
These greedy men who make the acquisition of money their end are the Antichrist, he says.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Dark Fire
If you haven't discovered them yet do read the Matthew Shardlake novels by CJ Sansom. I have just finished the second which was better than the first. Shardlake is an honest lawyer (there are such things) at the time of the English Reformation. He mixes with power brokers. Thomas Cromwell, Archbishop Cranmer, The Duke of Norfolk and Henry VIII himself are among those he contends with. The plots are woven into actual historical events and full of exciting happenings. I promise you won't be disappointed.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The Colorado Kid
I am a big Stephen King fan. It's not the horror I like; I can take that or leave it; it's his sheer ability at telling a story. I happened upon this novella somewhere and read it last night. It is a puzzle of the 'locked room' variety. A 40-year old man turns up dead on the beach of an island off the coast of Maine. He apparently died of natural causes, but who is he and how did he get there.
It is told as a discussion between a couple of old fellas who run the island weekly newspaper and a young woman journalism graduate who is doing a placement with them. For her it is a test - will she make the grade as a journalist; for them it is an interview - should they offer her a job.
After eighteen months an interesting fact (which I won't give away) enables them to identify the corpse and to do a good deed, but leaves them another puzzle: how did he get from Denver to rural Maine in six hours and why. They think of a how but the why is left to the reader's imagination.
If you know the story and if you have a good reason post it in the comments section. I have my own idea.
King is the king of small town America. My favorite story of his is 'Stand by me'.
It is told as a discussion between a couple of old fellas who run the island weekly newspaper and a young woman journalism graduate who is doing a placement with them. For her it is a test - will she make the grade as a journalist; for them it is an interview - should they offer her a job.
After eighteen months an interesting fact (which I won't give away) enables them to identify the corpse and to do a good deed, but leaves them another puzzle: how did he get from Denver to rural Maine in six hours and why. They think of a how but the why is left to the reader's imagination.
If you know the story and if you have a good reason post it in the comments section. I have my own idea.
King is the king of small town America. My favorite story of his is 'Stand by me'.
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