Magpie Murders.

When I was a young catholic growing up in Belfast I often found myself struggling with the vagueness of my birth assigned faith. Especially the complex traditions that went along with established forms of worship, in the mass.For instance before a reading from a gospel it would state that it was an extract from a letter by Saint Paul to the Corinthians or Saint Conan to the Cimmerians. To my young uneducated mind I would ask myself; "Who writes a letter to a whole people?" or"what was the postal address or is there a PO box ?"It seemed such hubris and even a little delusional. Do you begin such a letter "Dear Romans" or "My Dear Samaritans".?
               I had a similar feeling whilst reading this new book by the always entertaining Anthony Horowitz . Had he in fact written a letter, a love letter to be more precise, to a whole form, a whole genre? If so, if this is what he intended then I for one think he pretty much succeeded. The genre in question being the great british murder mystery. Although, and if it is not stretching the metaphor too far, his cupids arrow has gone right into the targets heart and feels like a killing blow. It does not off course. Not beyond the narrative but a clever literary murder does take place. In actual and fictional terms, In a story wrapped within an unfinished manuscript with a series of clues hidden in plain sight.
There is so much to like in this book and it really does work well on a couple of different levels. The atticus Pond "fictional" bit is really rather good and all the behind the scenes stuff about the book trade are just as interesting. He makes some very telling and up to the moment actual cultural references(Including his own baby Midsummer Murders.) and he is none too flattering about the portrait of the successful but difficult writer who goes off the top of the building. I do not believe it to be parody or even biographical but it does have the ring of truth about it. A memory or perhaps an obsevation he has translated into "fiction".
                Who knows, writers are by nature such magpies..
                                                    One For Sorrow,
                                                    Two For Joy,
                                                   Three For A Girl,
                                                     Four For A Boy,
                                                     Five For Silver,
                                                     Six For Gold,
                                       Seven For A Secret Never To Be Told.
It is a children's rhyme off course and Agatha Christie, among others, has used the form to bookend or drive forward a narrative. It could be something to do with the downcast pathos of many such rhymes or the terrifying child like logic of cautionary tales passed on as children's poems. The wisdom and hard earned virtue concealed behind much pedantic prose. He also uses  chapter headings in a clever and entertaining way, little Easter eggs of information and occasional red herrings. Nicely wrapped but smelling of fish all the same. My favourite example is Agatha Christie using William Blake for Endless Night. One of my very favourites by her.
             He adapts styles for the different voices as the story and mystery deepens. In one switch of tone he becomes surprisingly unpleasant and reminded me of a certain speaking voice of a well know writer and pop cultural commentator. And blow me if it did not turn out to be the very reason!I really enjoyed the dipping in and out of "Realities" the tension generated by where the "writer" takes us
with his series of novels.
              Murder he wrote and he makes a killing.
         

           

Clothe With The Sun.

I wrote a review for the Forbidden Planet International blog of The Countenance Divine by writer Michael Hughes and the Moderator( A New Doctor Who Bad Guy?) Joe Gordon posted it with an accompanying vision by William Blake;The Great Red Dragon.And The Woman Clothed With The Sun. It was one of a series of paintings William Blake did to illustrate various scenes from The Book Of Revelations. Every Devil Babies favorite bed time reading.
           This beautiful piece of work  being used to give context to my rambling boobie-babble is just hanging a wondrous thing in a frame that does it no favors. Still, I do love it.

Gene Wilder.

                                                   "There is no life I know to compare
                                                             to pure imagination."

A Spoke In The Wheel Of Time.

Watched a few episodes of Rod and Line on Youtube. It is an old television series with Michael Hordern which uses a fishing guide book(Some might say the fishing guide book.) by Arthur Ransome as its point of reference. It is something of an ode, lovingly rendered to the melancholy joy of a sleepy England. To watch minnows break the surface of a fast running but gently bubbling brook as they break the surface to pick at flies or a determined fisherman escaping the wear and tear of the daily grind to maybe trick a fish from the water. It is warmly narrated by Michael Hordern who literally gets his feet wet by bringing to life the words and advice of Arthur Ransome. Hordern's wonderfully humane face is so expressive and engaging as he shares Ransome's words and insights with us. He is obviously an accomplished fisherman in his own right and brings a quiet but authoritative voice to the proceedings.
            While watching it I felt my soul go to a quieter more contemplative region. For at least the length of the short episodes and the return journey is almost as pleasant. a rest for the soul from the random unpleasantness of a world that makes one feel increasingly misanthropic as it seems to make less sense daily.
              Mind you it could be that my mind has been tricked into watching it for very different reasons. I remember watching Oh Whistle And I'll Come To You by MR James as adapted by Jonathan Miller in his 1968 black and white version for the BBC. It was magnificent and one of the scariest things I have ever seen. The memory of it haunted me for years. In that version it is also Michael Hordern who plays the dusty antiquarian Professor Parkin who strays way outside his comfort zone to confront phenomenon his rational mind is unable to cope with. He even appears to be wearing the same clothes in both shows as he tramps around the English countryside and wind swept coast. I think on some level I believed the fisherman in Rod And Line is the Professor from that MR James ghost story. As if this is what he did when he was not confronting supernatural entities with faces of crumpled linen.
           

We Shoot The Hearts Of Doves.

                                               (From my sketchbook) Music of Choice
                                                  Hearts Of Doves by The Tiger Lillies.

A Nice Cup Of Tea.

Look what I found at Atomic Collectables. A wee gem from the tail end of the seventies when men were men and so were monkeys. It probably seems bizarre to modern minds that dressing our evolutionary cousins up as cliched characters from the British class system should have produced such a hugely popular and funny series of advertisements for a beloved brand of tea. Like the saucy sea-side postcard it is a type of humour which has fallen from grace and taste. Indeed the very cliched British working class characters the monkeys riff on no longer exist.A ting of the past. Like Spangles or Curly Wurleys.
               I wonder what these monkeys did next. Were they even aware of their fame?
               Did it change their lives to the degree that Cheeta's was changed by his appearance in the Tarzan movies with Johnny Weismuller? I know the American film industry had very different levels of fame to that of the British advertising industry but the down side of fame can be blisteringly painful and unforgiving.
                As the Chinese military strategist once said "Monkey Business Is War."

             

From A Whisper To A ...

There was a British comic in the mid eighties, around nineteen eighty four I believe, and although it only ran for around fifteen weeks it is still very fondly remembered by those of us who remember buying great comics on a weekly basis in corner news agents. Sounds almost Edwardian,eh? Imagine that; a choice of British comics. Not as many as during the medium's heyday but a whole lot better than the choices one is presented with(or not presented with as the case may be.) these days.
              "What is the terrible secret of the locked room?"
             I mention it because 2000AD have brought out a collection of a serial from that title; Monster. One that was never completed in its day but is here and now. Monster is the story of a boy and his hideously deformed uncle who has spent too many years secreted away in a locked room. It was not uncommon in the seventies and eighties to have an uncle who the family rolled the eyes at the very mention off. I was surprised to discover that the story had been co-created by Alan Moore and then carried on with the combined talent of Alan Grant and John Wagner.
              "One turn of a key would take Kenny Corman into the room of terror.."
               Remote spooky old houses, haunted looking wind ravaged fields and moors, Policemen who do not look like anti-terror shock troops. A story where the monstrous figure off is off course revealed to be the truly heroic figure next to his equally heroic nephew. This wee collection ticks all the enjoyable boxes and holds up remarkably well after literally decades.
               Unlike my knees.