The Black Locomotive.

Oh My Word! What a read. It has been a while since i was reading a book that made me want to cheer for sheer joy as I was making my way through it. (Scratchman by Tom Baker being one of the most recent.) but The Black Locomotive did just that! A wonderful read, beautifully illustrated , with sublime artwork that seamlessly accompanies the text. It was as if JG Ballard had written a Quatermass story.

             "A strange anamoly is uncovered in the new top secret Crossrail extension being built under Buckingham Palace. It is an archealogical puzzle, one that may transform our understanding of history- and the origins of London itself. " so says the blurb on the book itself. Actually, so striking is the cover design, anyone handling this book has a pretty good idea they are already handling something special. (Oh-er, Vicar!) The haunting cover design, the pop art spine, the many intriguing interior illustrations and even the diversity of fonts used during the telling of the tale, it all adds up to an almost meta-experience.

             I am not much of a one for cookery shows. No matter how interesting the cooking is, or how the cooks explain their culinary concoctions. There are just too many peripherals for my liking, too broad assumptions of the bourgeois nature of modern kitchens fore me to ever be comfortable watching a show the whole way through. Who has a kitchen stuffed with such a breadth of ingredients from all corners of the earth, or Tescos or Aldi, whatever? you know, its probably some sort of inverted snobbery on my part, an innate sense of thrift from someone who grew up in a house without a pot to piss in, if you will forgive my vulgarity.  I cannot help it, a degree of feigned worldliness I do not actually possess. But when it comes to writing, or a writer's abilities, that intrigue me suddenly the great kitchen of creation opens its doors and I want to explore the ingredients that made it such a classic dish. Rian Highes lays those ingredients all before you. 

            And everyone is invited to the feast.

       

(An image, a piece of art, Rian Hughs created for The Doctor Who story of the same name.)

 

Towards Zero.

Oh, I enjoyed this one, found myself whizzing through this Agatha Christie, losing track of my day off and actually forgetting about all the things I had planned to do, as I wondered through this tight Christie narrative wondering what waited for the reader as we moved towards zero point and beyond. It is beautifully foreshadowed by this piece of dialogue by the character Mr Treeves; " I like a good detective story" he said" But, you know, they begin in the wrong place! They begin with the murder. But the murder is the end! the story beginning long before that.   Years before sometimes With all the causes and events that bring certain people to a certain place on a certain time on a certain day..all conveying towards a given spot...and then when the time comes..over the top! Zero hour. Yes, all of them converging towards zero..."

              He repeated "Towards zero,"

              It is Agatha Christie exploring how she constructs a narrative, as she would every now and again. Exploring ways of reaching towards that point and bringing her readers along with her.  And proving enormously successful at it, as the decades past have proven, as her ouvre remains constantly in print.  She really was the mistress of suspense, able to make that journey towards zero point so compelling.  Again and again, taking her readers on a mystery walk.  Doing it again with this book, with past events the prelude to murder. As events wind their way down the thorny path to the present. 

             And what a wonderful coincidence played itself out before my eyes. A lovely wee bit of serendipity.(Lovely word that.) I put the telly on to discover an adaption of Towards Zero was being broadcast. i had no idea it was actually on, just a nice bit of timing.on my part. They had taken some liberties with this adaption, probably in order to make it more palatable for a mainstream audience. It is transformed into a Ms Marple story, which is a bit odd, as there is no Poirot or Marple in the original text.  Poirot gets a mention, his genius referenced by a character. a further delight for me with this adaption was the character of Mr Treeves being played by none other than the lovely Tom baker! On form too, wonderfully capturing the world weary and tired essence of the character, a man who has stared too long into dark places, who it is said; "knows more of back stairs history than any man in England. Sadly, for him, he knows too much.

             Geraldine Mc Ewan plays Ms Marple, in wingless twittering bird fashion. Each actress, as one would expect, brings much of her own thing to the role. 

             I love them all but I do have a favourite.

             But that is between me and dear Jane.

 

Growing up Gay With Olly.

 If you only have time for one television programme this week, or any week really, why not give this a go; Growing Up Gay With Olly Alexander. It is a genuinely powerful glimpse into the mind of a very special young man, one who seems the very epitome of the modern Renaissance man. A deep thinker, a great, great singer, dancer and actor. He is all these things and yet remains very humbly a gentle human being. If the word gentleman has any real meaning these days then he is surely it. 

             He articulates very movingly, and honestly, the pains he experienced growing up gay in a straight world. Argue the semantics all you want, break it down, dress it up, "problematically unpack" or whatever. He is trying to articulate a painful truth that runs through the very center of the rock of modernity. An over rich vein of awkwardness and painful loneliness that all too many off us experience. Perhaps less so for future generations as the world seems genuinely attempting to usher in a long over due era of kindness rather than willful ignorance. Now, unfortunately, too many of us were forced to walk the lonelier path where we made our mistakes, where we fell and hurt ourselves without anyone to pick us up. 

            To many looking in from the outside, Olly Alexander's story must surely be one of fame and success as he seems to succeed at anything he puts his art and his heart into, yet he has the courage to admit that such rewards cannot act as battle armour against the many blows life throws his way. I believe, that gay or straight, one does not get immunity to these random attacks, that everyone has a story to tell, and tonight was Olly's turn to articulate his experiences. And the method he chooses is painful honesty, finding the words that rip of the scar tissue to reveal the wounds beneath. This was not some narcissistic whine, this was staking vunerabilty on the line. He stumbles as he tries to speak, you can see the fresh pain as old wounds are re-opened. even as he talks to his own mother. it is painful stuff but he had the decency and the courage to let us see. Not even for his own sake but for the sake of others who might encounter the same pains and self doubt without any network of support. He goes out into the world, speaks at schools, performs and sings and tries to encourage the efforts of allies everywhere he goes.

            Everybody needs a friend like Olly Alexander. and Olly could use a few good friends.

            And there is no reason why one should exclude the other.

We Are Walter.

I have visited this before but one of the most disturbing moments in a movie , for this timid writer anyway, of recent years was the closing moments of the android Walter's introduction in the Alien Covenant short which was released on line just before the movie itself. Essentially an explanation for why there were two Michael Fassbenders in this movie( although this writer would require no such explanation, excuse nor plot motivation to have two Michael Fassbenders in a movie. I would insist on it contracturaly! Oh the mind boogles...) Anyway, there we are in the new Alien prequel continuity, with a previous model of android having gone bonkers, the next human voyage to the stars in search of a new home requires an updated model to look after the crew while they sleep out the lengthy trip. Enter; Walter. 

           In a pre publicity move a few very clever wee prequels to the events in Alien Covenant were released. One of them involved the creation of the artificial man and well crafted it was too. Walter in birthed in a sterile workshop of creation and not a filthy one as used by victor Frankenstein but the possibility for birthing monsters is always there. Biblically it plays with the notion of creating Cain before Adam.

            But that is not what I found particularly disturbing about this short film. in the run up to the release of the movie Alien Covenant there was a lot of speculation about where this tale would take the alien franchise. A lot of people, for good or ill, had been wrong footed by Prometheus, it was not the direction fans of the series had perhaps hoped it would go. And Covenant seemed set to wander off in another direction fans of the series  had not considered; A.I. and its place in our race to the stars.

            Again, it was not so much this that I found chilling about the Walter Bio. After we get a glimpse of Walter's actual construction, and it is that, we get to see him being made, after he is birthed and clothed we get to see him sitting in the company of some truly disturbing individuals. 

             It was a though a subliminal had been found, paused and then lingered upon.

             Who were these people? were they even people? Why was the newly built Walter sitting in their company and what was their intention. I had no idea how any of this fitted into the larger picture. I just found their stillness, the smiles that never reached their eyes truly disturbing. Was Walter the second born of a new race. Were these calm but menacing individuals more of the same?

             One of the great tropes of history has been the prevalence of the charismatic leader. The great orator, who bellows out his beliefs, who shouts his way into the history books. Who commands a podium leading his followers to war and atrocity. it has happened so many times. It is happening now, in different parts of this world we share, and sadly quite close to home, yet we are always on the look out for them. We recognise the skill set, we roll our eyes and we prepare ourselves "Oh Here We Go Again", and tragically all too often we do not see the quiet monsters, who come bearing gentle smiles and sage advice. Nodding in gracious and self effacing acknowledgement and understanding at our all too obvious flaws and our need to believe in the better angels of our nature, these benign beings who have come to protect us from ourselves. Just watch that short film and see what I mean. They smile, they nod, they know they are on the right path, and will ensure we follow.

            Now let the atrocity exhibition begin.

            Chilling.

            And not a face hugger in sight.

             

 

Reality and Other Stories.

 Was intrigued enough by a comment I read on this collection of short stories by John Lancaster to want to read it and I am glad I did. It is an anthology of "modern" ghost stories or rather eight tales sunk in modernity playing with themes of the rum and uncanny. it is quite a modern collection in that all eight tales are rooted in modernity even though  the stories owe quite a bit to much older traditions of story telling. And though the twists in these tales involve curios such as haunted kindle devices (One of the stronger if not strongest stories.) you can feel the influences brought to bear from older voices such as MR James or Henry James. These are great sources too, why shy away?

              An enjoyable collection where no story outstays its welcome. A quick read to be sure and nothing speaks of modernity more than brevity. Its the sign of the times rather than a sign of the times.