Nov 282013
 

Scotland’s only Dickens Fellowship, whose status in the event of a Yes vote next year seems, curiously, to be missing from the governmental white paper on Scottish independence revealed this week, holds its latest monthly meeting on Tuesday 3rd December, from 19:00 to 21:00. David Innes writes.

Charles-Dickens-438x438It is with regret that many of us will leave Dickens’s masterpiece after Dr Paul Schlicke’s lecture and the resulting discussion on plots and detecting in Bleak House, this time with emphasis on numbers 16–20, chapters 50–67.

A well-written and loved book like Bleak House, however, is a gift that keeps on giving. The series of Fellowship meetings and discussions will encourage members to re-read it, such is its complexity and economy.

Before the December festivities start, Fellowship members will gather again on Tuesday 17 December, when Paul will read A Christmas Carol.

Both meetings will be hosted by Grampian Housing Association, whose offices are at the Huntly Street/Summer Street crossroads. The Grampian Housing car park provides ample free off-street parking. The Fellowship is grateful to Grampian Housing for its continuing support

Membership of the Fellowship for 2013-14 costs £20. Non-members can attend individual meetings by paying £3 on the night.

https://sites.google.com/site/aberdeendickensfellowship

Nov 282013
 

Jack Webster book coverVoice’s David Innes reviews Jack Webster’s autobiography A Final Grain Of Truth.

There was almost a sense of finality about this volume when I picked it up. ‘A final grain’, Jack? It’s as if the author’s preparing for leaving us.

All is well with Maud’s kenspeckle writer though.

The closing chapter, in summarising how lucky he feels to have experienced an active and fulfilling life, ends with optimism.

Webster isn’t ready to bow out yet.

The previous two volumes of A Grain Of Truth were well-received and sold very well.

The final part revisits several of the life-changing and life-enhancing chapters, this time to reflect more on the writer’s Buchan upbringing and how that has influenced his colourful career, most notably as a features writer in the Scottish Daily Express and in the freelance career which followed.

Maud is frequently his mirror, and more than once his North East background and down-to-earth approach has allowed him access to closely-guarded inner sanctums of the famous, most notably the reclusive estranged widow of author Alistair MacLean. That, of course, leads to a dinner and a revelation about Wallis Simpson…

Webster’s memoir also demonstrates that he has an eye and nose for a story and was frequently willing to take a chance to get it, enabled by editors whose faith he earned by delivering insightful copy almost without fail. It is sobering to realise that his successes were delivered before the internet and mobile devices became commonplace journalistic tools.

A Final Grain Of Truth also gives Webster an opportunity to give his take on modern life.

Born in 1931, his passions are the personalities, especially in cinema, theatre and sport, whose work he admired as a youth and young man. He was lucky enough to spend time with many of them. Even if several of these names are unfamiliar to those of succeeding generations, Webster’s enthusiasm has one tapping into Google to find out more.

Buchan is known for its conservatism and Webster is very much a son of the region. His parting shots include views on Royalty, trade unionism and Margaret Thatcher which will not please everyone, yet epitomise his honesty and hame-draughtitness.

JACK WEBSTER – A Final Grain Of Truth: My Autobiography

Black & White Publishing
ISBN 9781 84502 710 0
278pp
£17.99

 

 

 

Nov 142013
 

As a preliminary to the evening’s theme Serialisation and Bleak House, chairman Dr Paul Schlicke revealed that Dickens Fellowship HQ is ‘full of enthusiasm’ for Aberdeen’s adoption to the Fellowship. We’re the first in Scotland since the Edinburgh Fellowship disbanded in 1956. Hibernian FC have not won the Scottish Cup since 1902. The Voice’s David Innes calls in.

Charles-Dickens-438x438The University of Aberdeen’s Dr Dan Wall, a local member, introduced Serialisation and Bleak House by recalling the approach taken by the BBC’s Andrew Davies to its 2005 Bleak House broadcasts.

Davies’s production offered twice-weekly, 30 minute, episodes to replicate, as far as televisual serialisation would allow, how Dickens planned Bleak House to be offered to the public.

Serialisation, Dr Wall told us, was not exclusive to Dickens. Near-contemporaries, including Gaskell, Eliot, Trollope and Conrad, all used weekly or monthly journals to reach the widest possible audience.

Periodical publication had several advantages during its heyday of 1830-1870.

It was a cheap means of accessing fiction at a shilling (5p) per issue, when three-volume novels, the favoured structure of publishers and libraries, cost a hefty three guineas (that’s £3.15, kids).  Not everyone who read serialised fiction, or had it read to them, bought the numbers.

Subscription libraries, which themselves would contribute to the demise of serialisation and working men’s clubs were means by which fiction could be accessed. With the expansion of rail travel and the ubiquitous WH Smiths, periodicals sold well to passengers.

Publishers loved serialisation’s profitability. With no need for binding and covers, the use of cheaper paper and with pages of advertisements sandwiching the narrative, periodic publication was attractive.  When the novel was published in full, the same plates were re-used to minimise type-setting costs.

As for Bleak House, monthly publication allowed Dickens some breathing space to fit in his other considerable writing and editing commitments. Once his copy had met the deadline, he was free to pursue these.

He also had an eye on literary piracy; even before The Pickwick Papers’ serialisation was completed, and before Dickens had finished writing it, there were nine stage adaptations in production.

For a writer as prolific as Dickens, serialisation meant that more than one work could be worked on simultaneously. Piecemeal novel release saw each issue reviewed, giving free advertising and attracting readers who, once they had committed to a narrative, were unlikely to stop purchasing it. Bleak House, in particular, can become that addictive, believe me.

As always, the group discussion was informative and entertaining when we,

  • touched on some critical reaction to Bleak House, an early detective novel, where the effect on readers was described by one critic as being of ‘dubious morality’
  • recalled how even in the 1950s and 60s, boys’ comics including Rover and The Eagle continued to offer narratives with cliffhanger endings, ensuring that the next issue was eagerly sought and
  • agreed that the contemporary phenomenon of downloading is comparable to the subscription libraries of Victorian Britain.

Nothing changes, it seems, but Dickens endures.

The Fellowship will conclude its consideration of Bleak House on Tuesday 3rd December, 2013, when Dr Paul Schlicke will talk on the theme, Plots and Detecting in Bleak House, followed by a discussion seminar on numbers 16–20, chapters 50–67.

More information on the Aberdeen Dickens Fellowship can be obtained at https://sites.google.com/site/aberdeendickensfellowship/

To be added to the Fellowship mailing list, e-mail p.schlicke@abdn.ac.uk

Nov 052013
 

Charles-Dickens-438x438By David Innes.

The newly-chartered Aberdeen Dickens Fellowship continues its examination of Bleak House at its upcoming meeting. We have now progressed to numbers 11-15, chapters 33–49.

The seminar will be introduced by Dr Dan Wall, who will speak on the serialisation of Bleak House.

The novel was published in 20 monthly instalments between March 1852 and September 1853, Dickens finding a ready and eager audience keen to discover the outcome of the plotline left hanging at the end of the previous monthly instalment.

Do I hear the syn-drums of the closing Eastenders theme tune?

Number 11 was published in January 1853 and number 15 in May of that year.

The meeting will be held at Grampian Housing, at the Huntly Street/Summer Street crossroads on Tuesday 12 November and will last from 1900-2100. The Grampian Housing car park provides ample free off-street parking.

Membership of the Fellowship for 2013-14 costs £20. Non-members can attend by paying £3 on the night.

Oct 242013
 

Jack Webster book coverBy David Innes.

The imminent clock change signals the approach of winter, with its darkness, greyness, drizzle, sleet, and dangerously-slippery leaves when walking or cycling.

Then there’s the misery of snow, frost and ice, not to mention the obtrusive overkill of that big commercial event six days before we enter 2014.

Christmas, for that is what I’m alluding to, does however allow book fanatics to indulge their habit.

Whatever your taste, pitch black evenings provide ideal conditions for reading, with inhospitable weather rattling the panes and the chimney can, and the TV cold in the corner due to the lack of anything worth watching.

My list for Santa is already at the rough draft stage with Mark Lewisohn’s The Beatles Biography sitting in pole position.

The end of year festival also encourages publishers to launch titles, to catch the Christmas market and also, one hopes, to encourage us away from the fridge, the internet and the pub.

Our friends at Black & White Publishing have sent us a review copy of Maud loon Jack Webster’s A Final Grain of Truth, a further autobiographical account of his eventful journalistic career. It’s currently being digested and we’ll carry a review in Voice soon.

The author will be signing copies on

  • Saturday 26th October at 13:00 in Waterstone’s, Union Bridge, Aberdeen, and
  • Saturday 2nd November at 13:00 in WH Smith, St Nicholas Centre, Aberdeen.

Also in from Black & White is Bob Jeffrey’s intriguing Peterhead: The inside story of Scotland’s toughest prison. That’ll be reviewed in Voice too.

Bob Jeffrey will be signing copies on

  • Saturday 30th November at 13:30pm in Waterstones, Union Bridge, Aberdeen.
Oct 042013
 

An Optimistic Sound – The Songs of Michael Marra, Dundee Repertory Theatre, 28 September 2013. David Innes reviews.

marra-pic

It’s difficult to believe that almost a year has passed since Michael Marra was taken from us, and the world was deprived of a supremely talented writer, artist and performer.

The affection and respect which poured out from fellow artists, fans and friends in October 2012 validated his status and the esteem in which he was held.

Such was this esteem that Celtic Connections, only three months after his death, featured an evening of celebration of his music and influence entitled All Will Be Well.

Quite what he would have made of this we can only guess; but as a fiercely proud Dundonian writer and performer, one can imagine that a further commemoration, An Optimistic Sound, played to a sold-out Dundee Repertory Theatre, would be the finest accolade that he could imagine.

Whilst the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall event was emotional and celebratory, by contrast the Dundee event had a more relaxed feel. It was as if Michael’s ‘bairns’ The Hazey Janes, with son Matthew on bass and daughter Alice compering and performing, and wife Peggy, had invited friends round for the evening to sing a few songs and share an anecdote or two.

That spirit of inclusion extended to the audience, loudly appreciative of every artistic effort extended for our entertainment.

Whether it was Rod Paterson telling of Michael’s generosity in completing a muse-deserted Paterson song overnight, Peter McGlone blowing heart-rending saxophone, or Saint Andrew declaiming Woodwork Woodwork  and revealing that its refrain was based on the late Gus Foy’s school timetable, standards of performance never fell below outstanding.

Could Muscle Shoals have assembled a more soulful backing chorus for Eddi Reader’s white-hot Here Come The Weak than Alice Marra, Karine Polwart and sisters Fiona, Gillie and Eilidh Mackenzie?

Dougie McLean has thankfully preserved a song, never recorded, which Michael would sing in his early performing days at Blairgowrie Folk Club, and took obvious delight in performing it.

These are merely a few highlights among many. The whole was indeed greater than the sum of its parts.

Michael had always shied away from stardom. As our national Makar Liz Lochhead reminded us, he once said, ‘I don’t want my name in lights; I want my name in brackets’. Ever the songwriter. His generosity was well-known and he would have been proud, without doubt, that all profits from the evening are to go to Optimistic Sound, a Michael Marra Memorial Music Trust for the young people of Dundee.

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Sep 062013
 

Having seen a book entitled Fascist Scotland (Birlinn Books, 256 pages) at the library I thought I’d check it out as the name of the author, Gavin P Bowd, seemed oddly familiar. This proved to be correct as he wrote an article in Scotland on Sunday earlier this year linking Scottish Nationalism with Nazism for which he allegedly received ‘death threats’. Having read this awful book I can imagine the alleged ‘death threats’ can only have come from serious historians who have seen their profession dragged into the gutter and their status reduced to that of a third-rate fairground barker, writes Dave Watt.

Bowd, GavinBasically, the book implies that there has been a major connection between Scotland and Fascism since the 1920s.

It is shotgun mudslinging of the lowest order, even implying that Rudolf Hess arrived in Scotland because he knew the place was full of Nazi sympathisers and that the wartime government was afterwards involved in some sort of major cover-up.

He uses a ludicrous quote from an Evelyn Waugh’s Officers and Gentlemen, in which a lunatic alleged Scottish nationalist Miss Carmichael, an avid admirer of Hitler, proclaims that, ‘When the Germans land in Scotland, the glens will be full of marching men come to greet them, and the professors themselves at the universities will seize the towns’, as his basis for showing that Scotland was just waiting for the word to go Nazi during the war.

Presumably the 50000 Scottish servicemen and women who died in the Second World War were all rushing to join the Wehrmacht when they absent-mindedly forgot that they had rifles in their hands and the Germans were obliged to kill them.

Bowd also claims that although 549 people in Scotland volunteered to fight for the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War, and only one (yes, that’s right, one) went to fight for the Fascists, there were many Franco sympathisers in Scotland and, at one point, refers to us as ‘Mosley’s Lost Legion’.

Based on this kind of statistical interpretation I could state that there are many sympathisers in Scotland for the notion that the Earth is flat.

One of the more surreal pieces in the book alleges that the Protestant League in Scotland initially supported the Spanish Republic since they were kicking out priests from Spanish schools, but goes on to state that they all changed their minds as the Civil War went on and supported the Fascists as a consequence of becoming suddenly impressed with Hitler.

No evidence is supplied for this abrupt alleged Scottish Protestant devotion to Hitler, there are no voting statistics, no pictures of Orange banners with Adolf crossing the Rhine on a white dobbin on the 12th of July, no radio broadcasts from Ibrox with the crowd singing ‘Hello, Hello, We Are The Falangist Boys’ and stating that they were ‘up to their knees in Anarcho-Syndicalist blood’.

Nope. Nothing like that. It happened like that just because he says so.

Paralleling the surreal observation about Scottish support for Franco, he seems to imply that since the National Front got 0.08% of the vote in 2011, there is a huge secret groundswell towards Fascism in Scotland. The obvious corollary to this is that if the evil Jocks gets independence it will be concentration camps all over the shop and you won’t be able to get a quiet latte in Costa for people standing on chairs singing Tomorrow Belongs To Me.

This book is appalling. I don’t know if the smug-looking cock (see pic) did any serious research apart from cherry-picking anything, no matter how tenuous, to make his spurious point but he seems to be unable to relate his findings to his own statistics.

Don’t buy this book. Don’t bother reading it. It’s crap.

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Sep 062013
 

We’re a week away from the 500th anniversary of the ill-starred Battle of Flodden, where ten thousand Scottish deaths robbed the nation of the cream of its youth and its respected and progressive monarch James IV. It is a half-millennium-old scar on the Scottish psyche that refuses to heal. Bringing a human and emotional focus to that dreadful afternoon and its immediate aftermath is the triumph of Rosemary Goring’s first novel. Voice’s David Innes reviews.

Flodden book coverfeat

It is all too easy to read military history and to become tied up in weaponry, strategy, tactics and numbers, forgetting the individual human outcomes and emotional fallout of major, traumatic events.

After Flodden time-shifts effortlessly and expertly, moving between the preparation for battle, a harrowing account from a participating character and, majorly, a Kidnapped-style post-battle journey across the threatening Border Marches as far south as Durham, to deal with a familial issue of national importance.

Whilst this is going on, the English noose threatens to tighten around the Borders, regarded as an anarchic free-booting hotbed of crime and hostility to authority.

Of course, constrained by accounts of historical events and by the actual cast list of 1513, the author has to fit within the timeframe and the presence of major contemporary political characters. This does not curb her narrative imagination, however, and the plot and sub-plots are populated by protagonists with whose emotions, motives and actions it is easy to identify.

Emotions? Character traits? Are mistrust, subterfuge, passion, intrigue, betrayal, guilt and remorse enough to be going on with? Paniter, Crozier, Torrance, Louise, Benoit and even the vixen are memorable and credible imaginative creations, even where Goring’s own obvious fictional instincts have to be tempered by historical fact and evidence.

This is a fascinating and illuminating page-turner, especially for a debut novel, and readers will hope that there is more to come from the skilful, artful pen of Rosemary Goring.

ROSEMARY GORING – After Flodden
(POLYGON) 331 pp £14.99

Jun 142013
 

By Duncan Harley.

I never really read Ian Banks. I mean, he was an Edinburgh man after all.
‘The Wasp Factory’ was published in 1984. My heroes then were Blair and Mandela.

Not the Labour Blair of course, but ‘Homage to Catalonia’ Eric Blair, and that Nelson Mandela man who was awarded the Freedom of the City of Glasgow.

My sons met him outside Glasgow City Chambers, just after the ceremony, but were then too young to recall the smiling eyes of the man and the air of peace and gentle power he generated.

Before his presidency, Mandela was of course an anti-apartheid activist and high ranking leader of the African National Congress, and its armed wing Umkhonto we Sizwe, which translates as “Spear of the Nation.”

Following his 27 years in prison on convictions for various crimes including sabotage but not murder, Nelson’s switch to a policy of reconciliation and negotiation led the transition to multiracial democracy in South Africa. Since the end of apartheid, he has been widely praised, even by former opponents.

Somewhat like Ian Banks however, Mandela will soon be out of this place except in our collective memories.

It was moving indeed to view the tributes to Ian’s passing. In particular I was struck by the fact that both Sky News and the BBC carried lengthy interviews with his writing and drinking pals. Also, the outpouring of dismay and affection by readers on the announcement by Ian regarding his imminent demise, spoke volumes about the impact the man made.

Comments such as “Ian Banks was a very sad loss, as for Mandela who can say anything but a working class hero” from Ruby Finnie, and Helena Petre’s “I’m sorry to hear about Ian Banks, loved his book about Whisky, and the TV dramatisations of his novels, though I did not read any of them”, say it all.

I may just buy the Wasp Factory on the strength of it.

The British National Party’s leader, Nick Griffin, has sparked some outrage

Then of course there are the detractors. As far as I am aware, the BNP have no issues with Scottish science fiction writers but it seems that in their view Nelson Mandela is a different matter.

The British National Party’s leader, Nick Griffin, has sparked some outrage with a series of tweets branding Nelson Mandela a “murdering old terrorist”.

Mr Griffin, who has been often been called a far-right politician, and who is of course NOT an MP, seemingly mocked the 94-year-old former South African president’s lung condition. He apparently wrote on Twitter that

“Nelson Mandela on last legs it seems. Make sure to avoid BBC when the murdering old terrorist croaks. It’ll be nauseating”; and

“‘Statesmen’ must be judged on results not rhetoric. Before Mandela, South Africa was safe economic powerhouse. Now crime ridden basket case.” Plus

“No surprise Mandela’s lungs are shot – all those burning tyres. Smoking necklaces very bad for the health.”

Love them or hate them, the BNP are seemingly here to stay. Nick Griffin is currently holidaying in Syria “on a fact finding mission”.  He will shortly be meeting President Bashar Assad in Damascus.

With rhetoric such as “What he wants is to let people have a proper view of what is going on in Syria, because at the moment all we have is William Hague and his infantile war-mongering” and “He wants to ascertain just how many British citizens are fighting out there for the so-called Free Syrian Army and other elements opposed to Assad” from BNP spokesperson Mr Simon Darby, plus of course the infamous statement that “He”, presumably Nick, “ is sick and tired of seeing lads from Manchester and Liverpool coming back in body bags or with arms and legs missing because the Government got them involved in business that isn’t any concern of ours”.

What can the BNP spokesman mean? Body bags, arms and legs missing? Surely that is President Bashar Assad’s job.

Sources

Mr Griffin on Mandela, a comment: http://www.urban75.net/forums/threads/nick-griffin-sparks-outrage-with-sick-tweets-about-nelson-mandela.311430/

Mail on Line: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2339568/BNP-leader-Nick-Griffin-visits-Syria-receiving-invite-President-Assad.html#ixzz2Vw2UAIII

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Jun 132013
 

Hall Harper takes a few moments to contemplate the death of Iain Banks.

Like many others I was saddened this week by the news of Iain Banks’s death at the age of 59, only a couple of months after doctors had diagnosed him with gall bladder cancer and given him around a year to live.

I first became aware of his writing over 20 years ago when I found myself in Chelmsford with some free time between an early afternoon meeting and an evening dinner arrangement, and wandered into a local bookshop in search of something interesting.

Scanning the shelves, my eye was drawn to the name Espedair Street which, to someone born and brought up in Paisley, immediately brought to mind a road in the south of that town.

Standing in that booksellers in Essex, though, it seemed unlikely that this could relate to the same tenement-lined street of my home town, but a quick flick through the first few pages revealed that it was.

The result was that I bought the book and spent the next few hours totally immersed in a fascinating story that almost resulted in me missing my dinner date.

Over the intervening years I’ve read his varied output and was constantly amazed at the brilliance of a master storyteller whose diverse and quirky range of works were always intelligent, perceptive and witty. I must admit, however, that I haven’t explored the science fiction titles of Iain M. Banks, as I’ve just never been able to warm to science fiction as a genre, but that’s my problem.

But it was mainly the wit that I was always drawn to.

This week, I have heard many observers quote the wonderful first sentence of The Crow Road, “It was the day my grandmother exploded,” which, I would wholeheartedly agree, must surely be one of the wittiest and best opening lines in a modern novel.

Nevertheless, my first memorable encounter with Mr B’s wit was in the early pages of Espedair Street where he described one of the less-salubrious districts of my birthplace:

“Ferguslie Park lay in a triangle of land formed by three railway lines, so no matter what direction you approached it from, it was always on the wrong side of the tracks.”

Let me assure those who are not familiar with the area, aka ‘Feegie’ or ‘The Jungle’, that this is a description which says more than a 200-page dissertation ever could.

But wit was clearly an integral part of the man who recorded that his reaction to being diagnosed with the terminal condition which brought his life to such a tragically premature end on Sunday was, “along the lines of ‘oh bugger!’” and who later asked his long term partner, Adele Hartley, if she would do him the honour of becoming his widow.

Now that really is raising two fingers at death!

So while I mourn the passing of someone I believe to have been one of Scotland’s finest writers, I suspect he would have scorned any display of grief at his demise preferring instead that those left raised a smile and a glass to his memory.

So cheers Iain – thanks for everything!

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