The Notebook and the Devil - Coming soon

The annual halloween short story is written and will be published on this blog on October 31st.

It has become a kind of tradition (or, at least, I'm making it so). It has gained some kind of cult following among my handful of elite, discerning and enigmatic readers.

And after all, it is free and what else is there to do on halloween (apart from cast spells (if you are into that sort of thing) or turn down parties)?

Poetry

I don't think I've written poetry for a long time. I have about 80 poems which vary in quality. I read a lot of good poetry and I've come to the conclusion that most of my poems need work and I would need to learn a lot more to improve significantly. I am not in the league of poets like Plath.

My first book was a poetry anthology titled 'Compliance is Futile'. These poems were largely written to express things which could not be expressed in any other way at the time - to express experiences which were either mountaintop or valley experiences (where even the valley has a crevasse). Or, if you prefer, they were written after metaphorical storms had taken place.

I may return to poetry (when the storms or valleys come (and they will, for most of us)), but for now my focus is on fiction and non-fiction.

At the moment I am working on a non-fiction book and have reached the third draft. I find myself unable to talk about work while I'm engaged with it. All I can say, for now, is that it is original and I hope it will be available by the end of this year.

I also have another novel-length piece of fiction but that is only at first draft. Beyond that I have one novella length non-fiction account or essay and one other ongoing novel-length project.

Basically I do have a lot of work in reserve and I have more ideas than I could shake a spoon at.

I have changed the cover to Compliance is Futile. The original cover showed an altered picture of a statue of Joan of Arc from The Louvre, but I have learned Photoshop since then and the cover badly needed updating.

Here then, is the new cover...

And here is the link to the poetry anthology for those interested.

Here be Dragons

Is it safe to emerge from my ship cabin yet?

Obviously I have supplies for another ten years or so here, so I’m only asking out of curiosity.

From my luxury cabin I observed Captain Cameron’s resignation speech. It turned out that all this time he really did love the country. He said as much. He finally revealed that despite his austerity agenda and nasty policies he was really rather misunderstood. The truth will out and all that.

But I don’t know. Sometimes I think there is a discrepancy between the things people say and the things people do.

I too love this country – and if I love it from my multi-million pound survival cabin on the good ship Britain, is that so hypocritical?

Sometimes I think this country is resembling William Goldings ‘Lord of the Flies’. And it is always the wrong people who have the conch shell which gives them the right to speak. Surrounded, always, by the sea and the threat of monsters.

It was interesting to see the metaphors David Cameron used in his recent speech. He talked about being the captain of a ship. It seems we are now all heading for unchartered waters. Here be dragons. Here be huge sea monsters with writhing tentacles which are threatening to steal away the vulnerable and minority groups. To whom I would say – don’t fear the suckers.

I will, no doubt, hear more screams from my luxury cabin, but it will be a simple thing to stop listening and block up all the portholes. Sometimes I think listening is such a bad idea – it leads to all kinds of problems.

Not that I need to care for anyone down here in the belly of what remains of the good ship Britain. I have everything I need after all. I don’t so much have needs as preferences. And yet I can’t help wondering if we are not so much on a ship as on a shipwreck. After all, everyone seems to be affected one way or the other.

People with the conch shell keep telling me that I should reconcile elements of this fractured country. That I should somehow set about working to assuage the vitriol that is filling social media. That I should promote unity and be positive.

But how can someone who has no inner unity promote unity outside himself? How can anyone come up with positive solutions when in survival mode?

So here’s my advice to all you brave people on deck, fighting off the monsters:

Stay alive. Try not to hurt anyone (including yourselves). And if you are seasick – then wait as best you can for this godawful storm to blow over.

Think happy thoughts.

Thoughts on the Referendum and Faith

Politics and nationalism are a powerful concoction. They have driven ordinary people to insanity. So if you sprinkle a bit of religion into the cauldron, you can be making a potent and sometimes poisonous brew.

I’m going to try to avoid doing that in this blog entry (although the insanity is a given). But I wanted to write about Brexit and the spiritual aspect of the referendum.

The politically enlightened know that politics influences everything. The spiritually enlightened know that even politics is influenced by the spiritual.

To put things into context, Britannia has been a little under the weather recently. Her helmet has slipped and her shield has rusted in the salty sea wind. And as for her trident – well, it’s pointless and expensive. Some people think she needs to get up out of that throne and make a stand (idle shirker that she is). In fact, to all appearances, Britannia has seemed a little sickly of late.

And with a referendum coming up, the theory is that Britannia now has to decide which side she wants to be on – or to be misled in the process.

No fear tactics there then. ‘No-one’s misleading no-one’. ‘Don’t personify a country which does not even have the luxury to claim a soul’. ‘Speak sense man’.

To add some context to Brexit and the way in which it relates to Christianity, you may need to look into a Christian conspiracy theory or two. Namely, the idea that the EU is the revived Roman Empire which, in the future will be led by evil personified. This particular conspiracy theory draws from classic books such as Hal Lindsey’s ‘The Late, Great Planet Earth’ and originates from the biblical books of Daniel and Revelation. You can probably see the whole theory elsewhere if you are minded to do so. It is eschatology, the study of the end times, and it is all up for debate anyway. Better still, if you haven’t already, read Revelation (but don’t read it at night as it has the same contrast of beauty and ugliness as Macbeth).

Now, throw into our concoction a few drops of freedom and you have a heady mix which smells as sweet as Britannia’s new makeover from the Royal Mint. Because freedom is what Brexit is all about for some eurosceptics – it is not necessarily about there being too many people here, or national sovereignty or immigration. For some of us it is not about immigration at all. Immigrants suffer enough and have been one of the few things which have kept Christianity going in the UK. I would rather Farage had the courage to acknowledge the good that immigrants do. It is not Christian to be racist or prejudiced.

There are other issues. Sometimes it is just about freedom. Not necessarily the freedom to retain sovereignty and make our own laws, but about feeling free. How can any side promise freedom? The concoction starts to smell bad again and maybe there is death in this particular national pot. The last refuge of the scoundrel.

I’d like to suggest that this feeling of a lack of freedom which fuels so much in life is being projected outwards. We can easily blame all our ills on another country, people or system - or terrorist group (why do the Government’s enemies have to be my enemies?). And why does it all come down to one vote (which too many are excluded from anyway)? Will the exercising of that vote bring freedom? Will it bring the hope which seems so scarce to so many?

But I’m over-spiritualising.

Christ seemed to over-spiritualise the occupation of Israel during his time on earth. Many of his people wanted to be free of the Roman Empire – but Christ would say frustratingly little about politics. He focused people’s attention on the things that enslaved them from within. Things like sin (which Christ, very liberally, called a ‘sickness’). As it happened, the Jewish uprising against the Roman occupying force came after Christ had been murdered, but it was violent and bloody too. The Roman Empire eventually declined and seemed to die and maybe it really did rise again in the EU. At least it is imaginative to theorise in that way. But Caesar, or any head of the EU is always going to be an outsider to all kinds of miracles.

The disciples were made up of patriots and those who were considered traitors, those who supported and thrived under the Roman Empire’s rules and those who longed for national freedom. They had to muddle along together under a cause which wasn’t about freedom from occupation or the maintenance of the status quo. Their cause became Christ. And this was (and still is) the cause of causes. The cause for which many live and die.

Today's disciples are also made up of eurosceptics and europhiles. Churches don’t usually take a party line on Brexit simply because they will alienate half of their audience (which I believe I may have the monopoly on). It is left as a matter of conscience.

But Christ was in a country far away and long ago and such stories and histories are either believed or dismissed. Or else we put our fingers in our ears saying we are free and we will ‘never, never, never’ be slaves. Of course, there are those who say that being a Christian somehow makes you less British. That believing in the only legitimate creator and protector of nations makes you somehow less loyal to your own country. Go figure.

Most of us still think freedoms matter, both the internal and external kind (because they relate to each other). Freedom from pain. Freedom from suffering. Freedom of expression and thought and conscience which are (perhaps ironically for some) enshrined in the European Convention on Human Rights. Freedom to write obscure blog entries which don’t make sense. The freedom to be as eccentric in our beliefs as Britannia herself (as she sits stroking her pet lion ‘Tiberius’ (‘Tibby’ for short)).

So stir all this up in our cauldron and what do we get? Apart from mixing metaphors and personifications? We still have Britannia, sick and needing the freedom to heal and grow, with her rusty helmet and pointless trident. Still wondering who is misleading her.

Because when it all comes down to it – only Christ, who is more revived than any Roman Empire ever will be, can give any of us the freedoms we so long for. And unlike the Government or the EU, he will actually listen to anyone. Including the soul of Britannia.

Think happy thoughts.

Life - A review

Okay irony lovers. Here we are. Hope you like this satirical piece: it is a written caricature, hence the archaic rambling. It may be an acquired taste as it was written during a spell of ennui.

Life – A Review

(by Pastor L. J. Darkside)

When I first heard that Life was coming out I was as excited as any critic and Christian leader of my calibre. We all know that the seminal and now iconic release of Love was the most inimitable, original and popular of all. As an unabashed fan of the Author, I was expecting great things in this new work, which I have been studying for some time now.

I am happy to say I was not disappointed in the slightest. I have to say, that from my first reading of Life, I was a ready convert. Having heard some complaint from other critics on other publications, I didn’t know quite what to expect. The other critics had stated that Life was not compelling enough, that it lacked all consistency and was quite arbitrary in its dealings with readers. These other critics, whose reputations are as dubious as their opinions, stated that after studying Life for some time readers would often go on to worship the text - as if it were some kind of god.

What an insult to the intelligence of the reader. What a sad and pitiful view of the human condition, itself covered within the text of this unparalleled work. Did those reviewers not realise that Life encompasses both this dour outlook and their entire worldview? What Philistines those critics are to state that Life is in any way less than the masterpiece that it clearly is. And as for readers ending up worshipping Life – well, my point is that a reader will only worship that which is wonderful, original, exciting and popular.

As for the hoi-polloi who even go so far as to crudely describe Life as a ‘bitch’ – what a miserable conclusion to reach. Do they honestly expect the intelligent men, the academics, the scribes, the scholars, to share their deranged, base and vulgar opinion?

They even go on to describe Life as some kind of horror story. What rubbish! Life is clearly a love story of the best kind. Or an adventure story. There are those who see no elements of story within the text, no beginning, middle or end. And that is the genius of this work, that it is an adventure, not a battle, that the story-arc progresses to what can only be a wonderful end. What a journey. But they sometimes describe it as a prison or as a courtroom complete with witnesses, judges, and testimonies. Waiting around for Life to happen to them. Refusing to engage with the text to any great degree. Of course Life treats them badly! Not so with this critic I can assure you.

And even if Life is contrary and arbitrary, as they insinuate – even if Life is as fickle as they and their demagogues opine, have they not entirely misunderstood the true nature of this work? Have they not heard the calls of the intelligent, of the wise? That Life is good, that Life is sweet, that Life is fair and that Life is wonderful? What? They site chapters of grief as evidence for Life’s fickle character. Do they not know that Life encompasses even death? That the very depths of the valleys and the heights of the mountaintops are the content of this beautiful work? It is an irony which bypasses them in their crude, base speculation, their personal bitterness towards both the text and to the Author. What a tired and jaded viewpoint they have.

But they are right in one thing when they do describe Life as a ‘bitch’. In that she is clearly female. The Greeks got it right when they called their goddess 'life'. For she is such a wonderful, wild siren that even the most jaded critic must appreciate her many faces, her differing aspects. She is like a diamond which all men fail to praise at their peril. And perhaps it is this lack of compliment which causes Life to reject such readers who do not pay her credence, who do not show her the respect she deserves. What an irony that is. What a tragic irony – that the critics of this marvellous work should be treated as they are by Life herself. It is, in effect, their own fault.

They go on to say that suffering somehow negates the positive attributes of Life, that it makes it so much more difficult to love Life. And do you know what I say? Poppycock! I know many people who suffer on a frequent basis and their love of Life is not diminished. It simply goes to prove that whether Life deals her readers with kisses and blessings or with thorns and suffering, we should all love her. And as one who has been very, very blessed, is it any wonder than I am among Life’s greatest fans? And even if I were to suffer, I would still praise her.

I even heard one deranged man say: “Life would be intolerable if it were not tempered by Love.”

What folly. Didn’t he realise that Life is the strongest work? Didn’t Maya Angelou herself tell the story of how her own mother would not hear a word said against Life because Christ had said ‘I am the way, the truth and the Life’? What a nurturing, faultless mother she must have been to teach the young Maya so well.

But for those of us less ignorant, those of us who appreciate true skill and true beauty, we know that Life is magical and that she rewards those who give her the praises that she is so worthily deserving of.

The other critics call us mealy-mouthed. They say that our reviews of Life are like the archaic ramblings of mad, old men and women. That we somehow sound old-fashioned as we whistle our merry tunes. How sad. How very sad. That they cannot see past our instinctive praises, the perspicacity with which we express our admiration of the benevolence of Life in all her abundance.

It is quite clear that the critics don’t understand Life at all. The vast array of content, the sheer exultation that is involved in this work has no contemporary equal. They say that Death is Life and that Life is Death. What fools. What loons.

As I have attempted to make clear throughout this review, defensive of Life as it is (and Life, like her Author, needs her protectors), there is no greater work on this planet. That those who criticise Life prefer Love is a further irony. They should not despise one and cling to the other. Love is encompassed within the pages of Life. And they say that Life is within Love. How they misunderstand. What wretches they are. Fools.

And so, it only leaves this reviewer, this eminent critic to say his last words about this text. Life has no equal. It is the greatest work I have ever read and has treated me kindly, like a mirror. What a paradox – the ugly see ugliness, the beautiful see beauty. And how beautiful she is. How lovely in every chapter. How I long to sample her most intimate delights.

The unworthy illiterate masses can call her a ‘bitch’ as much they want. But Life will find no greater fan than I.

Life holds pride of place among my book collection. I believe I may have a signed first edition and obviously I have locked this work in my cabinet, to be handled, studied and caressed when I am in a vacant or pensive mood.

Is the pen mightier than the electricity?

I've started my first petition ever. I've signed a lot a petitions (usually the 'black and white' rather than 'grey area' ones), but the reason for this one is simply because I think it deserves to be in the news agenda. A lot of agenda-setting is fairly arbitrary and based on whatever news editors think is relevant. When I've spoken to editors they always say: "You just get a feel for the news." It really is arbitrary.


And that is always it. Our popular news tends to be down to the instincts and hunches of a few people who decide what the news should be. If I ruled the world, the news agenda would not be the way it is - but I don't and that is probably just as well.


So, I wanted to sign a petition against ECT - Popularly known as electro-shock therapy. The reasons for this were not because I have experienced ECT myself, but I have encountered people who have and from what they have said, it has largely been a very negative experience. They have described it as invasive and life-changing (in a bad way).


I couldn't find many petitions against it, so I've made my own. I've resisted doing so before now because I'm not a leader. But someone has to do it.


As Sondheim says in his lyrics: 'If you have no expectations, you will never have a disappointment'. And I'm not really expected any great results from this. Call it an experiment - in the same way as ECT is simply an experiment - because no-one knows what it does. And it really is barbaric and shouldn't happen.

The only other time I've gone all-out on a petition was when I took a petition against the Iraq war (just before it started) around.

Please don't send me to 'chokey' just for hoping that the pen is mightier than the electricity.


Here's the text of the petition and the link:


'Ban ECT - electroconvulsive / electroshock therapy in the UK


Electroconvulsive therapy remains highly controversial. It is also largely ineffective - it damages the human brain. It doesn't work. Those who experience ECT often talk about how it feels like a kind of torture or punishment. Many people with mental health problems feel compelled to undergo ECT as a last resort and yet they often come away from the experience feeling worse than they were before. They can also experience significant brain damage.


It is like playing Russian roulette with the human brain and is even used as a threat in some instances and contexts. It is a barbaric and ineffective treatment for mental health problems.

Academic studies which defend ECT are often influenced by those with a vested interest in the treatment. But it is the vulnerable who suffer as a result. Government is complicit in this procedure and there are many other less invasive options for those who suffer mental health problems.

Basically, it stinks.'

https://www.change.org/p/jeremy-hunt-mp-rt-hon-david-cameron-mp-david-cameron-mp-jeremy-corbyn-mp-ban-ect-electroconvulsive-electroshock-therapy-in-the-uk?recruiter=9284199&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink

Review of Destiny and Dynasty

I am very proud of this review of Destiny and Dynasty kindly given by the academic, playwright and writer Dr Gëzim Alpion.

__________________________________________________________________

Destiny and Dynasty

By Nick White

Amazon.co.uk, Ltd., Marston Gate, UK, 2015, pb, 179 pp

ISBN: 978-1-5023-31271-6

__________________________________________________________________

Reviewed by Gëzim Alpion

Birmingham, 31^st December 2015

Destiny and Dynasty is Nick White’s first novel. There are a couple of books by established authors which I must confess I have not had the patience to read through to the end. White’s debut is a literary gem any serious writer would dream of starting their career with.

A good book tells an interesting story; a great book makes you feel the story is written for you. I initially came across the latter type of storytelling some thirty years ago when as a student in Cairo I discovered D. H. Lawrence, James Joyce, James Baldwin and Joyce Cary. What I admired most about their first literary attempts as novelists was their courage and talent to turn some of their own life experiences into art. I was equally impressed by the attention they paid to their early formative years thus showing that there is method in the Wordsworthian maxim ‘The Child is the father of the Man’.

This is not to say that White’s novel is semi/auto-biographical. Nor is the book’s main character Michael Sumner a doppelganger of sorts for some of the early heroes – Paul Morel, Stephen Dedalus, John Grimes or Evelyn Corner – penned by the above-mentioned writers. Rather, he has a life and originality of his own which explains why he is such an unusual and yet entirely believable character.

Michael emerges from the start as someone who stands out, even as a child. He has more than his fair share of misfortunes since he is twelve. This is not what makes him unusual or special, though. Misfortunes do not make those who are at the receiving end interesting figures per se. In life, as in fiction, many suffer but few overcome the harsh trials and tribulations of capricious fate that often defies logic.

Although often vulnerable, Michael is fundamentally a survivor. And he chooses to survive not by following the easy options in life. On the contrary, he takes risks even when it is almost certain that he will be hurt, at times seriously.

The intriguing thing about Michael is that he can easily lead the people he associates with and cares about as much as the reader to believe that he is an easily manipulated character. White never makes a statement that his main hero is on a quest. The reader is expected, and rightly so, to realise this for himself. What makes this realisation rather difficult at times as well as an entertaining challenge is the fact that Michael himself does not seem to have a clearly stated goal in mind. He is haunted constantly by something although we do not know what exactly from. He wants to go somewhere but we are none the wiser at any stage in the novel about his ultimate destiny. He does not want to run a church like his love interest Naomi; nor is he tempted to run away from civilisation and be a hermit like Ian. On the contrary, ne never wants to be in control and is eager to remain in touch with people even when it is clear that this more often than not will bring him trouble and sorrow rather than satisfaction and happiness.

It is clear that Michael tries hard to make sense of the senseless waste of life, which he experiences first hand with the sudden loss of his family. Nothing could have prepared him for this; not even the fateful meeting with Madame Indigo, the fortune teller, whose words, in hindsight, take a complete new and sinister meaning for this indigo child.

What makes Michael an intriguing psychological character is that he speaks through his silence. White spares us tedious psychological monologues that a less scrupulous stylist could have been tempted to employ at the detriment of the inferred aesthetic reticence.

After the family tragedy, Michael is haunted by the nightmare of falling. His challenge from then onwards is to clutch at something, anything, in the hope that his life would assume some semblance of normalcy. This never happens, but he tries constantly nevertheless.

What is intriguing about Michael, a sensitive soul as he is, is that although he creates the impression that he is impressionable and can be easily manipulated, he is always his own enigmatic self. This is apparent at various stages in the novel, even when he leaves the impression that he is under someone else’s thumb. One such case is when, against his Aunt’s expressive advice, he follows Elizabeth Ravenscroft’s counsel to get rid of his mother’s diary and his brother’s teddy bear. This more than anything else indicates that he will not be held hostage by the memory of the departed loved ones, at least not to the extent to prevent himself from enjoying life or at least keep trying. Even his infatuation with Naomi makes more sense if it is seen in this light. Rather than apparently being besotted with Naomi, Michael is in love with the idea of being in love.

While Michael obviously craves to connect, the tragedy is that he can find no trustworthy people or institutions worthy of connecting with. His manager is a heartless creature and he is not the only cruel employer in the novel. Even a religious institution like the Triumphant Life Church (TLC) is void of true feelings and solidarity. The church lacks soul. Rather than a place of worship, the TLC is in essence a business venture that was started by a crook and inherited by a knave, and which most likely will end up in the hands of an equally unscrupulous fake shepherdess. The vivid depiction of the state the TLC is in, how it operates, and how it manipulates its flock, is a heartfelt condemnation not so much of religion per se as a courageous effort to highlight the failure of institutions to fulfil their responsibility, bring people together, and forge social cohesion at a time when we continue to leave an increasingly fragmented existence.

James Ravenscroft, the head of the TLC, is a religious hypocrite and a misogynist. He is the reason why his daughter has turned into such a troubled soul, almost a Heathcliff-like creature.

Michael appears to understand from the first encounter with Naomi that something is fundamentally wrong with her. The fact that he is drawn to her to the end, however, as mentioned earlier, does not mean that he is an emotional dupe. Likewise, partly because of his own observations and partly because of the nature of the three tasks Naomi asks him to perform for her in exchange of wining his affection, it is clear that Michael is under no illusion as to what kind of church the TLC is. The fact that he falls in love with and follows doggedly a girl he knows is incapable of loving him back, and starts attending a church that is anything but a pious spiritual centre makes him sound at times like someone who does not know what he is after.

The choices Michael makes, however, odd as some of them obviously they are, are indicative of something crucial about him, something that is beyond corruptibility. He may have not found for the time being a girl who can reciprocate his love or a church where he can find solace for his troubled soul, but he will never apparently turn into a manipulative and killing misanthrope of the James and Naomi type. Nor will he apparently end up being a runner like Ian whose failure as a spouse and a father as well as the disappointment he experiences with James turn him into a quitter who escapes into the Welsh wilderness only to return back to the fold of civilisation to confront evil unsuccessfully and die an anonymous death.

Notwithstanding Michael’s importance as the main protagonist, the novel is a gallery of several memorable charters. This is mainly as a result of the original way the novelist employs the narrative which is economical and rich in its suggestiveness. The author is an astute observer of humans, nature and their interaction. This is a literary work as much as a sophisticated study on how complex, vile and lofty human beings can be. The narrative is often peppered with witty observations and humorous asides which make the novel enjoyable to read even when describing awkward moments in the characters’ lives.

Nick White has not made it easy on himself by writing such a delightful first novel.