Single Acts of Tyranny

From the outset, let me declare an interest - Stuart Fairney sent me a free copy of his book in return for a review. It hasn't affected my objectivity and, I suspect Fairney would be a bit disappointed if I didn't give my honest opinion on his work. Which means that this review will be pretty honest...

Single Acts of Tyranny is a brief, easy read, and in a sense reminded me of the work of Agatha Christie - not that Fairney is writing a mystery story anymore that Christie was a Libertarian writer. Rather, the point is that both authors make their work accessible and seem to understand that if you want to reach a large audience, then you have to write in a way that will appeal to that large audience. I doubt many literary critics will be raving about Fairney's book any more than they do about the work of Christie, but equally I can see people reading Single Acts of Tyranny as a way of relaxing while on holiday in a way that you couldn't do with, say, Atlas Shrugged.

The plot in itself is fast-moving and leaves the reader with little time to stop and evaluate it. Whereas this would normally hide a multitude of authorial sins, here it seems to be more that the author has a lot to say and is affording himself little space in which to say it. But that's fine - this is part political thriller, part love story, part political tract. Say what you've got to say, and then leave it. The point seems to be to get the reader to think about politics, and here I'd imagine the book will be a resounding success - for anyone not immersed in Libertarian theory, there is the potential here to be reading a really rather revolutionary and radical book that still conforms with intuitive common sense.

So we have here a light, yet politically astute, read that is deceptively simple. What could be improved?

Firstly, proof-reading. I know that the author of this blog criticising another writer for errors in their writing is the pot calling the kettle black, and the errors aren't too distracting, but for more pedantic readers it might become a problem. Secondly, the counter-factual background to the story didn't quite convince me. While I no issue whatsoever with the idea that the North might have won the Civil War, I seriously doubt that the South would have given up slavery and segregation that easily. Yeah, I understand the idea that slavery/racial segregation are economically counter-productive and it is irrational to pursue those objectives, but I also believe that when it comes to racial politics rationality often has a small (at best) part to play - as the example of Apartheid South Africa so brutally shows. Of course, I could be wrong, but that is part of the joy of the counter-factual - it provokes debate.

Finally - and this is perhaps the biggest problem - is the characterisations in the book. The leading protagonists and antagonists are not so much as they are ciphers - people designed to fulfil particular roles to advance the plot. In a brief book attempting to communicate a clear message about politics, characterisation does not have to be king, of course. But I just felt that at times it would have been more satisfying if the protagonist had been a little less perfect and the antagonist just a little bit less of a shit.

But these are relatively minor problems and do little to damage overall what is a very good book. So I would definitely recommend it - in particular to anyone who wants to learn a little bit more about a Libertarian political outlook.

Doctor Who - The Coming of the Terraphiles

I like Doctor Who - a revelation which will, I'm sure, not come as a surprise to any of my regular readers. I also have a sneaking affection for the novels of Michael Moorcock; he has an vivid imagination and a wonderful sense of irreverence that comes across strongly in his work. Therefore, when I heard that he was writing a Doctor Who novel, I knew that it would be something I'd be reading.

The Coming of the Terraphiles is, it is pretty safe to say, unique. You don't often get Who novels - or indeed stories - like this one. Part P. G. Wodehouse in space, part Harry Potter novel, part epic fantasy adventure, this is Doctor Who painted on a broad canvas. Certainly, the modern series has much more money than the old series had, but it could not come close to realising Moorcock's vision. Indeed, a multi-million pound movie also couldn't. It doesn't take a genius to work out why Moorcock is writing a book rather than an episode for the series. If they made The Coming of the Terraphiles on the TV, then the next three seasons would all involve the Doctor fighting the evil Shoebox people; there would be no money left at all. Forever.

There is another reason, of course, why this couldn't be part of the TV series - fundamentally, it jars with large swathes of what the new series has tried to achieve. For a lot of this adventure, whimsy is the driving force, combined with a certain whimsical sense of Britishness. There's a character called "Bingo", for heaven's sake. For a lot of the adventure, it reads like the writing of someone who is only vaguely aware of the programme, and doesn't really care for what he's seen. The Doctor and Amy are mercifully close to their onscreen versions, but they are also written in such a way that it is clear that the author prefers other characters in his book. I can imagine many fans of the show being mystified - and probably more than a little disappointed - by this tome.

That said, there is much to like about the book. Moorcock's irreverence is there, and it spreads to his treatment of the Doctor Who format. Sure, the modern TV series would not have a long sequence with the Doctor trying to smash nuts with a sledgehammer, but guess what? This isn't the TV series. It is an interpretation of a series that has been on air for nearly fifty years by a deeply idiosyncratic and justly well-regarded author. Anyone wanting contemporaneous fan fiction has come to the wrong place.

Plus, one of the benefits of Doctor Who is that it is such a broad format that you can tell almost any type of story within its format. Indeed, I found it quite fun to imagine other Doctors participating in this adventure - there can be little doubt, for example, that (the latter era of) Tom Baker's Doctor would fit right into any Moorcock created universe.

If I was to admit one meaningful criticism of the book, it is that it lacks a sense of menace throughout. Sure, the universe may well end if the Doctor doesn't find a particular Macguffin, but - given the circumstances - everyone is surprisingly relaxed about that. Yet the climax has the decency to be dramatic, and the final scenes actually manage to be quite moving.

So I'd recommend this book to any Doctor Who fan - but with the proviso that you have to be open to someone messing with the format and writing a different sort of a story that just happens to feature the Doctor and Amy. If that is too much for you, then I understand - but you'd be best off heading for one of the standard BBC novels, or just waiting for the new series to start later this year.

Parents Banning Books (And Why It's A Bad Idea)

Looking at the list of books that parents want banning in parts of the US is quite eye-opening. I'd have thought that it would be the typical sort of tomes that parents don't want their kids reading until they are more adult - y'know, stuff by Stephen King and Chuck Palahniuk. However, there are some genuine classics in the list of books that cause consternation. Two really stand out to me as books that not only shouldn't be banned from schools, but should be read while at school:

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee: Offensive language, racism, unsuited to age group

Well, of course there's offensive language and racism in To Kill A Mockingbird. It's about racism, for God's sake. And that's precisely why it should be taught in schools - to introduce the concept of racism in the classroom, where it can be discussed what it is, why it happens and - crucially - why it is wrong. Pretending racism doesn't exist in schools is not going to stop it existing outside of schools. In fact, quite the opposite is true.

Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger: Offensive language, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group

Yes, Catcher in the Rye has all those elements to it - which is what makes it such a great novel for teenagers. The fact that it is (relatively) explicit and more than a bit nihilistic is exactly what makes it great. Again, this is a perfect novel for teenagers - mainly because it is about being a teenager, and those feelings of discomfort, alienation and the desperation to get to the perceived freedom of adulthood. Yes, it's a grown-up novel, but it is also about growing up - and therefore the perfect time to read it is when you are growing up.

The whole point of reading books at school is not just to be able to say that you have read books - it's to have read thought-provoking (and therefore often provocative) books and then discussed them with your peers and with a teacher. That way, you can learn from To Kill A Mockingbird why racism is wrong and from Catcher in the Rye that you are not alone in feelings of alienation while being a teenager - and what can be done to deal with those feelings.

It is all very well getting kids to read supposed "classics" - but I remember remarkably little from reading such books as The Grapes of Wrath and plays such as Pericles when I was younger. The books that stick in my mind - the ones that actually taught me stuff - were the edgier ones, like The Bell Jar, Lord of the Flies, Nineteen Eighty-Four and (although I still hate it to this day) Wise Children. I value what I got from those books as they taught me a lot about the real world. Which, surely, should be one of the key aspirations of any education?

The desire of parents to ban certain books from school resides in a desire to protect them, to keep them pure and untainted by the real world. Unfortunately, at some point a kid - if they are going to be able to function in the real world - needs to be exposed to that real world, and made aware of all the negative things in it. What better way to do that than through getting them to read a provocative, well-written book and then discuss it the safety of a classroom?

A book definitely not worth buying

Some things should be April Fools Day jokes, buy sadly aren't. Like this story: the release of the collected speeches of one Gordon Brown:

Now, just in time for Easter and indeed for Fathers’ Day, a collection of all these moments and many more are available to own in a single weighty volume. Today, Gordon Brown’s greatest hits arrives in bookshops up and down the country.

The Change We Choose; Speeches 2007-2009 contains the Prime Minister’s most exciting speeches from the past three years.

The phrase Jesus fucking Christ springs to mind. Gordon Brown's most exciting speeches from the past three years. Literally no examples of anything exciting emerging from the sack of crap that is Gordon Brown spring to mind. Plus, he is shit - really shit - at public speaking. And I'm not alone in that opinion:

At Politicos, the publishing house, an employee was temporarily lost for words. “How grizzly,” he said at last. Collected speeches of Churchill and Aneurin Bevan still sell in great volumes and in great volume, but he was not sure there was a market for Mr Brown.

“I suppose it would be great for insomniacs,” he ventured.

Asked to fit Mr Brown within the pantheon of Parliamentary orators, Brian Jenner, head of the UK Speech Writers Guild, said he was “up there with John Major".

"Great for insomniacs"; yes. And those suffering from deep depression with no desire to recover. But aside from that, the market must be - shall we say - limited for such a release. So why, in the name of everything both holy and unholy, is this bag of shite hitting the bookshelves?

In Downing Street, a spokesman for the orator himself said the book was being released by popular demand. “A number of people have been asking him over time for collections of his speeches,” he said. “I hope it will appeal to people from across society, from the average punter in a bookshop to academics and political observers.”

Really? Popular demand? Who from? The clinically insane? I mean, not even a Labour party activist would want this book anymore, not as Brown's star fades away into nothingness. If you want to read a speech by a real orator from the Labour party, then read something by Bevan, or Wilson, or Foot. Don't touch Brown's speeches with a ten-foot barge-pole.

I am simultaneously an average punter in a bookshop, academic and political observer and I think I speak for those in all three categories when I say I would never want to read the collected speeches of Prime Minister Brown, let alone pay to read the fucking things.

Cormac McCarthy's The Road

Just finished reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road. For those of you not in the know, Cormac McCarthy is well-respected writer. He came up with No Country For Old Men. And The Road will become a film soon enough. Let's hope it actually is the "Major Film" that the front cover of my copy of the book claimed it would be. 

Make no mistake about it, it is good book. I enjoyed The Road - if you can enjoy a book that is so unrelentingly grim. Set after some sort of global calamity*, The Road is about a father and son making their way across a devastated America. They meet and encounter nightmarish people and circumstances. They see cannibals and their cellars full of human fodder. They see murderers, rapists, monsters; and struggle not to become monsters themselves. Their few moments of joy are the result of finding somewhere safe to lay their heads, or somewhere containing something to fill their empty bellies. Cosy catastrophe this isn't. Day to day, their only objective is to stay alive.

Yet, I'd struggle to call The Road a great novel. It is well written, occasionally poetic, and often breath-taking. But it isn't original in any way. I guess for many of those who have praised this novel to the heavens, it is genuinely the first of its kind. The problem is, it isn't original on any level for someone with a passing knowledge of sci-fi/horror.

The post-apocalyptic novel has been around for eons, and in my opinion, there are far more satisfactory examples out there than The Road. There is The Stand - Stephen King's classic novel of an epidemic, followed by a journey across a ravaged America. Then there's a lot of the early work of J G Ballard - in particular his magnificent The Drowned World. And as bleak as The Road is, it still doesn't manage the gut punch of John Christopher's The Death of Grass, which sees both society and the individual characters in the novel collapse altogether and become something far more malign. 

And then you had The Day of the Triffids - a book that is very similar to the The Road, in that it details a journey across a ravaged land before the surviving protagonist(s) find something approaching a safe haven. In fact, The Day of the Triffids arguably offers more than The Road, since it details how the end of everything happened. 

The Road is well worth a read, and is a good book in its own right. However it isn't the best of a number of novels in a compelling genre. By all means read it, but also check out the other books mentioned in this post. Because they are as strong as - if not better than - The Road.

*I've read that this is the first great catastrophe novel of the global warming generation. However, don't worry if you are like me and skeptical that the end of days will actually be down to us not recycling enough. The causes of the calamity are open-ended, and it could just as easily be a nuclear war. 

J G Ballard

There are few authors I have enjoyed reading more than the late J G Ballard. Truly a visionary writer, he managed to make the most outlandish of concepts seem reasonable, and managed to get you to buy into his characters - no mean feat, given they are often undergoing the extreme symptoms of various mental conditions and horrific events. Some writers create wild and imaginative mindscapes and landscapes, others create readable novels. Ballard had the rare talent of being able to do both.

His death is a tragedy, but it is more the place of his family to mourn his passing rather than his readers. So instead I'll use this post as an opportunity to urge your to go and read his work if you haven't already. My favourites include Empire of the Sun, The Drowned World, High-Rise, Running Wild, Rushing to Paradise and, of course, Crash. But he was a prolific writer, and there is far more in his roster of novels to enjoy than just that limited list. You might enjoy his books, you might find them challenging: whatever you find, though, will be well worth your time and effort.

A Little Light Reading

I’ve been thinking a lot about the list of books that people claim to have read, but never really have. And I’ve also been thinking a lot about Charlie Brooker’s claim that James Herbert’s ’48 is a pretty spectacular book. As it stands, ’48 is an ok book, not great but perfectly readable. Which is the point, really. For me, a book should be readable. And actually one of the most under-rated talents of an author is to make a book fundamentally readable. There are two key factors in making this happen. First of all, they need to have a writing style that is accessible. And then they need to have a story that is actually worth reading.

Perhaps there is some sort of intellectual snobbery towards those who write popular books. It has taken ages for the best works of Agatha Christie to be truly acknowledged as classics – not just of the genre, but of writing in general. Likewise, there is now a widespread understanding that Edgar Allan Poe is one of the greatest writers of all time. Yet in his day his stories were often reviled and he struggled to make a living from his work. Which does make me wonder which authors, currently regarded as mainstream and far from great, will be lauded as masters of their craft in the future?

Inevitably, there will be authors I just cannot stomach whose work will live on – J K Rowling is a good example of that. It may also be that media other than prose become respectable. Consequently, you may find that some of the most important writers of this age are those writing for the TV, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Russell T Davies, Jimmy McGovern and Paul Abbott also become widely regarded as masters of their craft. Likewise, people like Stephen King and Ian Rankin may achieve the sort of critical acclaim they deserve in the decades to come, rather than the more muted critical notices of today that in no way reflect their commercial success.

I’m predicting the future here, and (of course) that can go badly wrong. Also, I’m not going to mistake commercial success for quality. After all, Jamie Oliver’s cookbooks sell well. It doesn’t stop him from being a talentless cross of obese hamster and fat-tongued cockhead. So I’m not going to list the authors who I think should be regarded as greats, and instead list ten books that I really love and think are definitely worth reading.

Carrie by Stephen King: Ignoring the fact that it is a great novel in its own right, it also has something to *say*. For all those who want to understand school shootings, well, you could do far worse than reading this novel. Replace the telekinesis with a gun and change Carrie’s gender, and you have a teenager pushed into a horrible revenge against a society that appears to hate them and they hate.

The Drowned World by J G Ballard: J G Ballard is one of those authors right on the cusp of being considered great. People treat Empire of the Sun as an important work, and also are starting to see beyond the controversy around books like Crash to the fascinating ideas lying under the surface. However, his first book is an undiscovered gem. Bleak without being fundamentally depressing, it sums up nicely the Ballard worldview and begins his trademark of characters who appear not only disassociated with the world, but also with themselves.

The Killing Joke by Alan Moore and Brian Bolland: Graphic novels are often looked down on, because – y’know, comics are, like, for kids. Alan Moore’s work is going through the process of challenging those perceptions, as the veneration of Watchmen shows. If you want to dip back in his history and see the origins of the Joker in The Dark Knight, then read this.

Human Nature by Paul Cornell: Fan fiction has an even worse reputation than graphic novels. And deservedly so, since a lot of it is unreadable garbage written by people who really, really need to get out more. However, every now and again, you get decent fan fiction, albeit still written by people who need to get out more. Human Nature is a great example of great Doctor Who fan fiction – so good, in fact, that they made it into prime-time Saturday night TV.

Ghost Story by Peter Straub: Stories about small US towns under attack from something supernatural or something superhuman are nothing new – hell, the aforementioned Stephen King has built a career around such stories. But Straub’s novel is perhaps the best example of a genre that has slipped into cliché. I genuinely thought I would find this book long and tedious; in the event, it is a great read that really drags you in and makes you care about the characters.

Empty World by John Christopher: John Christopher should be on the same pedestal as John Wyndham, yet he remains a secret. Those who do know of him tend to just know the (admittedly fantastic) Tripods trilogy. However there are many gems in his back catalogue, and my personal favourite is this short novel. Dealing with the aftermath of a particularly virulent pandemic, the novel suggests that the real challenge for surviving in a post apocalyptic world is coping with loneliness.

We Have Always Lived In The Castle by Shirley Jackson. Like Ballard, some of Jacksons’ other works – such as the wonderful The Haunting of Hill House - are getting the acclaim they deserve. Yet this odd book deserves considerable acclaim as well. With the unreliable narrator and the odd family ostracised by the village for a past crime, it builds up towards an climax that is predictable yet feels oddly right.

The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson: It is fake. It is clearly fake. And you shouldn’t need Snopes to confirm that it is a fake – you just have to read the book. It is very well done – almost compelling in a trashy sort of a way. And it is a creepy little story; very much the modern ghost story. It is also palpable nonsense, and like all good nonsense should be, it is also very enjoyable.

The Thief by Ruth Rendell – one of the “quick reads” book range, which is great as it means you can read the book in about an hour and it costs relatively little. The book itself is an odd story of a pathological thief who steals the wrong thing from the wrong person. And the protagonist’s nemesis in this story is one of the most striking villains in any book I think I have ever read. His scheme for revenge is as devastating as it is simple.

The Woman In Black by Susan Hill: Hill is respected for some of her work, not least school book staple I’m the King of the Castle. But her best work – and one of the most terrifying books I’ve ever read – is this one. Turned into a great play and a great film, the book itself is well worth a read.

Of course, the above list is deeply subjective and many may snort with laughter at my choices. But the central point still stands – there are authors and books out there that are simply not respected despite being great. If you have an author or a book that you think is pretty fucking awesome but no-one really knows and/or respects it, then stick it in the comments section and I’ll read it in the highly unlikely event that I get the time…

The most concise chapter I think I have ever read in my life:

"Nothing much else happened, all the rest of that night."

For anyone interested, it is Chapter 31 of Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. 

Sage advice from Charlie Brooker:

The secret, then, is simply to let go: to not give a toss about what anyone else wants or likes or thinks in the first place. That way you won't paint yourself into a corner trying to impress them. In fact, the best strategy of all would be to actively put them off: confess to all your worst traits and guiltiest pleasures at the earliest opportunity. Tell them you don't know about that James Joop and his Ulyssesso pop-up book thingy, but you reckon James Herbert's Nazi-zombie thriller '48 is one of the most exciting books you've ever read (which it is, actually).

I'm reading The Tommyknockers by Stephen King at the moment. A bit garish, occasionally crude, and very much a tabloid sort of a book, but also immensely readable and entertaining. I'll read Ulysses if I ever get the time; having flicked through a copy of it once, though, I rather think that there are other, more important things to do before I get round to it. Like reading When the Tripods Came again. It is a lot shorter and, I rather think, a lot more fun.

Totalitarian States: Fiction, Reality

One of the reasons why I have never rated the film version of V For Vendetta (or at least, nowhere near as highly as I rate the graphic novel source material) is because it fails to be, for me, the ringing indictment of authoritarianism that the original was. To a large extent. V For Vendetta the movie is a superhero film for those who favour freedom and who dislike the ongoing encroaching of the state on every part of modern life. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but it fails to really offer insights into what life is like in a totalitarian dystopia.

But to be honest with you, this film is no different from so many other pieces of dystopian fiction – including some classic entries in the niche genre. Take Farenheit 451 a wonderful and justly famous book. But does it really sum up how terrible it is to live under the a dystopian regime? I mean, it seems to be ok as long as you don’t mind watching TV 24-7. And the real horror of the regime comes from the science fiction elements to the novel, like the nightmarish hound. The book burning is a warning sign for any society; but in this novel it comes across as a gimmick.

Which is the problem with other dystopian scenarios as well. They come across as gimmicky. Take Brave New World - yes, it is an oppressive society, but it is one where people are forced to be happy through the ingestion of drugs. It is no more nightmarish than joining a hippy commune – ignoring reality with chemical friends. Freedom may be gone, but no-one cares. Or 1985 - an entertaining novel that really represents nothing more than Anthony Burgess taking the opportunity to rant about two of his political bugbears – trade unions and Islam. The reconditioning centres in 1985, with their mix of lectures and debates, are a universe away from Room 101.

Whereas one of the reasons why the initial version of V For Vendetta is so effective is because of the depiction of life under Norsefire. It is a nightmare world, where a girl is forced into prostitution only to meet with real danger from the men who represent the police. It is a world of concentration camps and absolute control of the people; a world where an autocrat rules through the advice of a computer (that he has a borderline sexual relationship with). And it is a world where the only real hope left is a terrorist – and make no mistake about it, V is a terrorist. This is a bleak vision of the UK, and it shows very well what might happen if the authoritarian likes of Adam Susan and his party achieve power.

And then there is the daddy of all dystopian fiction – the mighty Nineteen Eighty-Four. That is truly a nightmare version of the UK (and, indeed, the world) – one where not just every word is controlled by the state, but so is every thought. The state wishes to completely crush humanity; destroying the concept of love, and ultimately even removing the need to have relationships for the purposes of procreation. And anyone who dissents isn’t just arrested and executed, but is also completely crushed. This is a cold, dark, awful world that should linger in the minds of everyone who favours even an iota of freedom.

However, where I do criticise Nineteen Eighty-Four (and a lot of other works in this genre) is in their depiction, or lack of, how society gets to be so nightmarish. I appreciate that these are meant to be novels and films, rather than clear warnings about how totalitarianism comes into being. But they fail to realistically show how the authoritarian types get into power. Take Nineteen Eighty-Four - the main point of no return was a global nuclear war. Now, war can cause a totalitarian takeover – you only have to look at the fate of Eastern Europe after World War Two for proof. But that was an invasion, rather than a nuclear holocaust. A nuclear war would bring about a horrific world – however it will be closer to the world of Threads than Nineteen Eighty-Four. The truth is that the drift towards authoritarianism isn’t likely to happen in a big or dramatic way. Which is all the more worrying, because unless you are watching closely, you may well miss out on those warning signs.

And I also think that the depiction of those who would drag us towards totalitarianism is far too negative. The simple truth is in that old cliché – that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. This is one area in which the novel version of V For Vendetta gets it so right (and the film gets it so wrong): the original depicts Labour winning an election and kicking all US missiles off UK land – in theory, a good idea (at least for paid up members of the CND). The result is a shift in the global balance of power, and an ensuing limited nuclear war.

You can see the same in reality. The roots of Stalinism can be clearly seen in much of Leninism. However, Lenin (despite his willing use of force on many occasions) did not want a totalitarian regime, and just before his death warned of the dangers of Stalinism. However, he was forced into taking draconian and illiberal action to counter what he thought were threats to his attempts to build a communist utopia. Therefore, the seeds of Stalinism – one of the most oppressive regimes that the world has ever seen – were not sewn purely out of misanthropy, but rather a misguided attempt to do the right thing for the people. Likewise, Cambodia’s journey into the very heart of darkness under Pol Pot was not solely born of a desire to suppress people and seize power – it was a reaction to centuries of history and circumstances within that state. And we can see a very similar thing happening right here, right now, as some Western governments implement draconian legislation in order to protect the people from a (hopelessly exaggerated) terrorist threat. What so many works fail to show is that freedom is lost mostly through gradual erosion, not a catastrophic meltdown.

All of this literary criticism does have a point, and it is this: dystopian works of fiction have their place, there is no doubting that. But they are fiction: they do not represent reality. As I’ve already mentioned, the reality of the slide towards totalitarianism is far less exciting, or obvious as it is presented in fiction. Don’t imagine that there will be terrible war before the state takes complete control; they won’t need to do that. And they are not going to utter clear statements of intent, like burning books. The warning signs will be subtle; it will be the gradual erosion of cherished yet mundane freedoms. And by the time the population realises what is happening, it will be too late. There will be no room for manoeuvre, no freedom let to resist or protest.

Unless we start fighting that process now.

The slide towards authoritarianism is happening; right here, right now. The government is slowly taking control of what you eat, what you drink, who and how you fuck, what you can say and what you can eat. It is doing it in a slow, paternalistic way and I believe the politicians think they are acting in the best interests of the nation. But there is no positive outcome if this slide towards total state control is allowed to continue. The best case scenario is that you are allowed to live comfortably as long as you do not dissent; the simple truth is that a continuation of the drift towards authoritarianism means the day will come when you will not have the freedom to think or choose for yourself. The loss of freedom is like cancer; it will spread slowly but surely across all parts of society until our liberty has been utterly eaten away and we are left with nothing but a half-forgotten idea of what freedom was.

There are organisations already shouting about and fighting for a stop to the slow erosion – if you care, if you want to be an adult who can make your own choices and have some freedom in the future, start supporting one of those organisations. Because turning a blind eye will lead to nothing other than waking up one morning and realising it is all too late.

The Ghost

On Saturday, on the way to a wedding where there was a surplus of booze and a complete absence of soft drinks or water, I saw an advert for the Robert Harris novel The Ghost. And it said at the bottom of the ad "DESTROY AFTER READING". No doubt this was to provoke a mental image of the book as a highly controversial threat to national security, or something similar. However, having read the book, I can say I am half-tempted to destroy it. Not because I think it is a threat to national security or any similar guff, but rather because it wasn't very good.

The plot itself is partly the problem - whislt there are some exciting moments, the book as a whole is about a dislikable ghost writer writing a book about dislikable characters. The plot is almost entirely predictable. You know from the outset that someone is guilty and that the suicide was almost certainly a murder. You know it is all going to be about the War on Terror, and the unpleasant underbelly of that conflict. And most of the book is about someone writing up that story - so we are seeing the events second hand, through the jaundiced eyes of a ghost writer. And by the time I reached the final *twist*, I no longer cared about any of these characters and their silly little lives.

Part of this is probably because I have read, and very much enjoyed, other Robert Harris novels. So my expectations for this one were very, very high. And fundamentally, a book about a ghostwriter trying to hit a tight deadline lacks the raw excitement of an attempt to expose the Holocaust in an alternate history where the US is about to make peace with the Nazi empire. Or a book where there is an attempt to find Stalin's son by hardline communists who are determined to restore Stalinism to Russia. But there is another problem. On some levels, The Ghost seems to want to operate as a satire - a satire on Blair, on the War on Terror, on Nu Labour and the tragic death of Dr David Kelly. And in that attempt at satire, more than anything else, is where the novel fails for me.

The book is so lumpen with the references to famous people that Harris should have just dropped any pretence of this being fiction, and instead called Adam Lang "Tony Blair". The book as a whole felt like a pedestrian novelisation of The Trial of Tony Blair - without the humour, but with the same commitment to the leaden satire that would embarrass a student union revue.

Satire works better when it takes reality, and corrupts it enough to make it outrageous but still recognisable. And - crucially - the characters need to be distinct and stand up in their own right. Francis Urquhart works so well as a satirical character as he is recognisable as a ruthless politician, but also has a distinct and interesting personality as well. He is not any particular member of the then Tory government, but he does represent the darkest elements of that government, and magnifies them to create a character who is both nightmarish and compelling. Likewise, Alan B'stard is an outrageous satire - an unbelievable, amoral character who is somehow still likable and worth watching. He represents the very worst of eighties greed and malice, but is not anyone in particular. The Ghost fails in part because the Lang character is Tony Blair in all but name, and after enduring 10 years of Blair I know I am not alone in never wanting to hear about him again, and not giving the first crap about whether a character based on him lives or dies.

There is a great satire about the Blair years; it is called The Think of It. The Ghost tries, and fails, to better that.

First Person Narrators

Been reading We Need To Talk About Kevin this week* - for those of you who don't know it, it is about a mother coming to terms with her son's mass murder spree. It is written in the format of the mother writing letters to her estranged husband, meaning the mother narrates the whole story from her perspective. And it struck me that there have been quite a few acclaimed books recently that have been written using a narrator. Much to their detriment, in my not so humble opinion.

Of course, there is a definite precedent throughout literature for using first person narrators. Dr Watson narrated the adventures of Sherlock Holmes, probably partly to humanise the methods and character of the extremely idiosyncratic and, at times, almost inhuman Holmes. Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is a classic precisely because it uses a first person narrator. The Woman In Black is striking because it takes the format of a pre-Christmas ghost story, and also because it manages to express the sheer terror that the narrator feels when faced with the ghost. But these novels use the narrator to achieve a particular aim and the narrators come across as either sympathetic characters or at least, in the case of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, as interesting.

The problem with the more recent novels is not so much that they have an unreliable narrator, but rather they have an unsympathetic narrator. In We Need To Talk About Kevin, the mother comes across as not only cold and distant to her (admittedly very challenging) off-spring but also as self-pitying, clinging, and desperate for some sort of confirmation that she isn't responsible for the atrocity committed by Kevin. It is difficult to trawl through 400+ pages of attempted self vindication, particularly given the mother comes across as so self-centred.

Another good example is the character of Amir in Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner. Amir narrates to story, and comes out as thoroughly wet throughout. He stands by and does nothing whilst his best friend is bullied and raped, before selling that best friend down the river in order to assuage his own sense of guilt. Finally, when Amir returns to the Taliban controlled Afghanistan, it falls to his young nephew to save his life and, in doing so, the boy's life as well. Throughout the novel Amir comes across as a passive and curiously unsatisfying character. Almost every good or memorable deed Amir commits only comes after extensive persuasion and goading from other characters.

Finally, the narrator in The Lovely Bones, Susie Salmon, is a sympathetic character, but distinctly unmemorable. The only time her narration is truly striking is in the first chapter - somewhat unsurprisingly - when she is raped and murdered. For the rest of the novel she is detached from the characters and events she narrates, and you are left wondering whether the novel would pack more of an emotional punch if Susie Salmon was removed from narrating and instead the author described the feelings and actions of the characters without the narrator's filter.

Of course, there are some more recent novels that do narration very well. Douglas Coupland's Hey Nostradamus! is a good example, although it is worth noting that Coupland's novel uses four different narrators. However it is possible for a writer to express the inner thoughts and emotions of his or her characters without using the device of a first person narrator - whatever other flaws his novels may have, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials triology let you know exactly what the protagonists are thinking and feeling in spite of being written in the third person.

It is worth noting that I am simply expressing a personal opinion, and the three novels criticised above are all highly acclaimed and, in two cases, award-winning**. It may just be a personal preference and perhaps others prefer this first person format to the neutral third person writing style. But I can't help but feel that the books criticised above would have been better if they had been written with a broader, less self serving and less emotional voice.

*Reading that sentence back reminded me of that guy in The Fast Show: "This week I have been mostly eating..."
**If you can count Richard and Judy's Best Read as an award...

Fantasy Film League

One of the things I sometimes to when idly daydreaming is think up how I would adapt books/stories/TV programmes for the big screen. Seriously, I had pretty much modernised Doctor Who in my head long before Russell T. Davies got his hands on it. Ok, he did a better job than me, but that is not the point...

Which led me today to think of what great books/stories/programmes need to be put on the big screen. And, as always, I came up with a Top 5. So, in no particular order, I give you:

The Day of the Triffids: Ok, it has been made into an average TV series, a terrible B-movie and this film is little more of a rewrite of it, with the infected in the place of the Triffids. But the book itself deserves a truly faithful adaptation, as it is a grimly realistic and often compelling look at a society that has fallen apart and those trying to live in the remains of it. Furthermore, the concept of the Triffids, in this day of genetically modified crops, is more topical than ever.

A decent Alan Moore movie. The adaptations of his works have ranged from the terrible to the barely average. My preference would be for a decent version of Watchmen but that is really unlikely. Not that someone adapts Watchmen, but rather that the end result would be any good. But one interesting idea might be Christopher Nolan adapting The Killing Joke as the sequel to the excellent Batman Begins.

In these days of trilogies (Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, The Matrix etc) there is one natural trilogy that checks all of the necessary boxes of being sci-fi/fantasy based, suitable for kids but interesting enough for adults and only really possible to produce using modern special effects - namely The Tripod Trilogy by John Christopher. Hell, it even has a prequel...

An adaptation of the poetic and tragic The Lovely Bones would be worth seeing. Ok, one is planned, but given it is being directed by Peter Jackson, who gave us this and this, I am not quite convinced.

Finally, what about The Wasp Factory? A demented, funny, shocking, warped book. It could go either way and become a classic or a travesty, but with someone like David Cronenberg or David Lynch at the helm, it would certainly be worth seeing.

Anyway, that would be my choices of films to see at the cinema. And if any major movie producer reads this post and thinks "yeah, I would like to make that film", then I am available to help with the scripts. At a very reasonable rate.