Turing’s Cathedral
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Book Reviews
Our reviews of the latest in literature
Saturday
Dangerous territory | 14 April 2012
Fifteen years ago Ahmed Rashid wrote an original, groundbreaking and wonderful book about the Taleban, a subject about which few people at the time knew or cared. Then along came 9/11 and Rashid turned overnight from obscure scribbler into global sage. He was courted (as he reminds us from time to time in this book) by presidents and celebrated by Washington think-tanks. But all this recognition, while well deserved, has had a terrible effect on his prose. Instead of writing very good books, he now writes very bad ones. His Descent into Chaos, published in 2008, an account of the years after 9/11, was ponderous and loaded with received wisdom.
An elusive father
In a large upstairs room of the YWCA building behind Tottenham Court Road, a group of actors were nervously waiting for the arrival of the director. There was the powerful whiff of a good cigar, the faint scent of expensive cologne and Orson Welles arrived. He had been in Paris cutting his film of Kafka’s The Trial and now here he was; a huge man, beautifully dressed in a dark suit and floppy tie, full of good humour, apologising for having missed a week of rehearsal. The room exploded with his laughter, an explosion so loud you feared for the windows, and everyone relaxed. He had prepared a version of
Ditching Brother Leader
The date that rebel leaders chose for the final assault on Tripoli was auspicious: 20 August 2011 coincided with the 20th day of Ramadan by the Muslim lunar calendar, the date on which Muslim forces led by the Prophet Muhammad conquered the holy city of Mecca for Islamic rule in AD 680. It was also exactly six months since the Libyan people had risen against Colonel Muammar Gaddafi and his regime. The nomenclature of the operation — Mermaid Dawn — was no less bizarre than the regime it sought to overturn. Neighbourhood co-ordinators roused sleeper cells with the agreed code phrase ‘We’re going to have soup tonight.’ After sunset, when
Serpents in suburbia
Barbara Pym was never just a cosy writer. She could be barbed and sour — and seriously, hilariously funny. Kate Saunders, in her introduction to Pym’s last novel, explains how ‘Rather to my surprise,’ Barbara Pym wrote to her friend Philip Larkin in 1971, ‘I have nearly finished the first draft of another novel about a provincial university told by the youngish wife of a lecturer. It was supposed to be a sort of Margaret Drabble effort, but of course it hasn’t turned out like that at all.’ The novel was An Academic Question — witty, sharp, light as a syllabub, nothing like anything by Margaret Drabble and with a
The picture of health
It must have been hard to settle on a title for this book; but then this is not the book that Richard Cork originally had in mind. In his introduction to The Healing Presence of Art he describes how he was approached to write on the contemporary role of art in hospitals, but in beginning the research for this he became aware, as he puts it, ‘of the rich, complex and largely overlooked tradition’ to which modern art and medicine are the heirs. It is this vast hinterland that forms the theme of Cork’s book. It is neither ‘art in hospitals’, nor ‘art and medicine’ nor ‘art as therapy’
Spirit of Roedean
Ursula Graham Bower belonged to the last generation of those well-bred missy-sahibs who came out to India at the start of the cold-weather season in search of genteel adventure and a husband. But unbeknown both to herself and to those about her, the gawky, ‘well-covered’, Roedean-educated Miss Bower was of that stern stuff upon which empires are built. Having arrived at a frontier outpost of Assam in the autumn of 1937 as the 24-year-old guest of a friend housekeeping for her elder brother, she set about carving out her own niche as an anthropologist. Her chosen subject was the Nagas, a lose confederation of tribes much given to raiding and
Far from close
In 1598, a certain Margaret Browne of Houndsditch gave a graphic description to the court of her neighbour Clement Underhill engaged in an adulterous act with her lover, as observed through a hole in the party wall. Some people have always been very interested in what the neighbours are up to; all of us can be affected by them. Emily Cockayne has investigated the relationship by conjuring up scores of pieces of evidence such as the one cited, from the early Middle Ages till the present day, trawled from manorial records, police and law courts, civic authorities and newspapers. The result is a nicely personal view of how we have
Heroics and mock-heroics
‘Poets don’t count well,’ says Ian Duhig in his contribution to Jubilee Lines — an assertion unexpectedly confirmed by Carol Ann Duffy’s preface. Admittedly, if the book did contain one poem for every year since 1952, there’d be an annoyingly untidy 61. Even so, Duffy’s declaration that the Queen was crowned ‘on 2 June 1953, 60 years ago this year of 2012’ may come as a surprise. No less puzzlingly, we’re also told that in 1977 ‘the Queen had been on the throne for nearly a quarter of a century’, which makes the Silver Jubilee seem a bit ill-timed. Luckily, the Poet Laureate proves far better at putting together
A bit of slap and tickle
Hard on the heels of the ecstatically received London revival of Michael Frayn’s Noises Off (currently playing at the Novello Theatre) comes this hilarious novel. It’s not easy to pull off farce on the printed page when so many of the laughs of the genre generally depend upon physical comedy. In Noises Off, for example, one character hops about the stage like a demented kangaroo, his shoelaces tied together. But just as a filthy joke is made funnier when told by an apparently po-faced academic, so a really silly plot is enlivened when composed by a highly clever author. Frayn is that man. In the hands of someone less accomplished,
Bookends: Disarming but disingenuous
At first glance, Be the Worst You Can Be (Booth-Clibborn Editions, £9.99) by Charles Saatchi (pictured above with his wife, Nigella Lawson) seems a rather distinguished book, with its gilt pages bound in what feels like genuine Gnomitex, and this impression persists until one begins to read it. The title page explains the format — ‘Charles Saatchi answers questions from journalists and readers’ — and the first page sets the tone: ‘If you had a bumper- sticker on your car,’ asks a journalist or reader, ‘what would it be?’ And our modern Maecenas replies: ‘Jesus loves you. But I’m his favourite.’ (Boom boom!) So it’s not a distinguished book. It’s
Friday
Interview: Ed Vulliamy and the Bosnian Genocide
In June 1991 while working as a reporter in Rome, Ed Vulliamy received a phone call from his editor at the Guardian asking him to the travel to the neighbouring Balkan states to check out something strange that was happening in the region. Vulliamy spent the next few years immersed in the Bosnian War, the worst carnage to blight European soil since the Third Reich. In August 1992, Vulliamy revealed to the world the horrific concentration camps that were in operation in Omarska and Trnopolje in Bosnia. Vulliamy’s latest book The War is Dead, Long Live The War is a tribute to some of the survivors, who are now scattered
The art of fiction: the return of 007
Bond is back. William Boyd has agreed to don the garb of Ian Fleming and write the latest tale in 007’s story. Boyd will not be aping Fleming’s style. The recent franchise revivals by Sebastian Faulks and Jeffrey Deaver are singularly different to each other and the original canon, while remaining faithful to the (anti-)hero in some fundamental way. They match the Bond film series in that regard. Daniel Craig, Sean Connery and Roger Moore could not be more dissimilar in their depictions of the character, yet each is recognisably shaken not stirred. Deaver and Faulks wrote slightly psychological Bond thrillers — I can’t really remember where they were set.
Thursday
The name’s Boyd, William Boyd
William Boyd is to write the next book in the James Bond franchise. The as yet untitled novel will be published next autumn. To mark the announcement, Daisy Dunn casts her mind back to a recent encounter with Boyd, where he spoke about the art of imagining and writing a thriller. It’s an ambitious eight minute walk from St. Hilda’s College to the Master’s Garden of Christ Church, where William Boyd is preparing to appear at the Oxford Literary Festival. He’s visibly bracing himself. It’s quite a walk from there to the stage – the kind of walk you’d make at a school prize-giving. A formal path for such an
Inside Books: Surveying The Hunger Games
Chances are you’ve read, seen, or at least heard about The Hunger Games, the young-adult book and film sensation by Suzanne Collins. The crux of the story centres on The Hunger Games itself, an annual event in a dystopia in which twenty-four teenagers are forced to fight each other to the death – the winner is the sole survivor. Unsurprisingly, this has proved rather a controversial storyline. While the film has smashed box office records and the books have sold over 23 million copies, the books are also among some of the most complained about works in America. (Albeit in good company with To Kill a Mockingbird and Brave New
Wednesday
Shelf Life: Nigel Havers
Nigel Havers is in the hotseat this week. He tells us about his intimacy with the Racing Post and his dreams of playing Casanova. You can catch him tonight in Corrie. 1) What are you reading at the moment? Fifty Shades of Grey – EL James 2) As a child, what did you read under the covers? The Racing Post 3) Has a book ever made you cry, and if so which one? The White Hotel – DM Thomas 4) You are about to be put into solitary confinement for a year and allowed to take three books. What would you choose? War & Peace – Leo Tolstoy, The Darling Buds
Searching for an answer to the Arab Spring
The Arab Awakening, Tariq Ramadan’s contribution to the fast-growing body of literature on the Arab uprisings, begins with a request for the Arab world to ‘stop blaming the West for the colonialism and imperialism of the past…and jettison their historic posture as victims.’ This is an encouraging start, and hopes for a refreshing change of tone from the author are further bolstered by a sentence which would not be out of place in the pages of a journal of the American neoconservative right: ‘some people are quick — too quick — to rejoice at the collapse of American power. The same people may be unaware that what might replace it
Tuesday
Darkness visible | 10 April 2012
We all know the names Auschwitz, Treblinka, Belsen, and Dachau. But what about Pechora, Vorkuta, Kolyma and Norilsk? Why are the camps to which Nazism’s victims were deported household words, while the Gulag archipelago – the far flung network of Soviet labour camps and penal colonies where the victims of Stalin and Communism suffered and died – remains terra incognito to most of us. Despite the vast disparity in the death toll – (Communist regimes killed, according to the respected ‘Black Book of Communism’ an estimated 100 million in the 20th century, ranging from the major monsters Lenin, Mao and Stalin to more minor Marxist killers such as Pol Pot,
Monday
Discovering Poetry: Thomas Hardy’s religion
‘A Drizzling Easter Morning’ And he is risen? Well, be it so. . . .And still the pensive lands complain,And dead men wait as long ago,As if, much doubting, they would knowWhat they are ransomed from, beforeThey pass again their sheltering door. I stand amid them in the rain,While blusters vex the yew and vane;And on the road the weary wainPlods forward, laden heavily;And toilers with their aches are fainFor endless rest—though risen is he. Historically, most poems about Easter have been written by Christians. They are normally celebrations of faith. Thomas Hardy, however, was very self-consciously not a believer. But people’s need to understand the world in broadly religious
Saturday
Death comes for the archbishop
Posterity has always embellished Thomas Becket. After his death in Canterbury Cathedral in December 1170 the Church idealised and canonised him; his tomb inspired miracles and became the most famous shrine in Christendom; the local monks grew rich and fat on the tourist trade that would attract Chaucer’s pilgrims. The 18th century invented Henry II’s hint, ‘Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?’ Playwrights spice the dish. Tennyson’s drama about Becket was staged by Irving; everyone remembers Eliot’s chorus, living and partly living; and Anouilh’s play, which turned the Norman immigrant into a Saxon, gave him, in the screened version, a wide and charismatic appeal. Not that theatricality or
