Karla's Choice.

After reading Slow Horses I still felt like some grungy down at heel British espionage. And that does not come more down at heel than Le Carre. Nick Harkaway, who pens this novel set in Smiley's world is actually John Le Carre's son, so its to be hoped his b rain is hard wired the same as his father's. As it turns out, there are the ghosts of his father's verbiage in how he writes. Not as in some one doing an impression but with a voice of his own, nuanced accordingly. For all that, it all feels very real and authentic, the way a good spy master would most likely make you feel.

Gaze of the Medusa.

Rewatching Season 13 made me dig out this Titan Doctor Who collection, which wonderfully features a Tardis Dream Team, The Doctor and Sarah Jane Smith. Just check out the amazing attempt to recreate this period, given that the bluray for Season Thirteen was so recently released. Well, relatively recently and isnt all time relative? Mind you, you can see that some of the reference photographs used by the artists are from different seasons of Tom Baker's tenure in The Tardis. Its all good though, he walks in eternity after all. There is an extra on the bluray, a behind the scenes interview with the lovely Elizabeth Sladen and it now feels so poignant.

Ronnie's Video.

Roll Up,Roll Up! Step this way, yes, just step through the curtain, illumination awaits. Two chums of mine, Artist Jim Mc Kevitt and Renaissance Man Mark Mc Keown, had produced a thrilling piece Ronnies Video, which can be found on Youtube. Its a mixed media retro-1980s video treat. An analog King In Yellow (Sorry, its almost a reflex for me to word an entry point for new visions. It is a way of reassurring viewers or possible listeners that there is a way in.) Way, way back in the day we used to have these things called high streets, they were centres for commerce and social interaction, where people would gather to buy and trade, sadly a concept slipping out of the shared cultural zeitgeist. And on these "high streets" you would find all manner of commercial outlets, food shops, clothing shops, record shops and even video stores. Vast libraries of video archives, where one might find the unexpected sitting right next to the unrentable. Mostly these finds were pleasing, the perfect distractions from the knobbielist of lives, but just occasionally there were terrors waiting in Betamax boxes...

A Feast Of Stevens.

One Feast Of Steven long ago The Doctor broke the fourth wall and spoke out from the flickering black and white box in the corner of the room, to wish all his beloved viewers a seasonal best. I am in no way High Church enough to try breaking the fourth wall from a blog but I can wish anyone reading this a very happy Christmas and if its not your first time let me thank you personally for putting up with my boobie-babble.I do hope what you read might have tempted you to try reading a particular book yourself, without you I would just be the ghost of an algorithm.

The Beggar's Opera.

Had no idea what this was. Did not even know I had it. Came across it tucked into a sleeve behind another disc, among some other stuff a chum Mark had given me some time ago. Since there was no information notes I was not sure what it was all about. It being a l;ate night tidy up I decided to stick it in the player, see what came up. And I was spellbound, transfixed by the beautiful sounds coming from my speakers, Sweet voices, like spring lambs gambling fluttered about the room, transforming a late night in Belfast to an Opera house.The story and escpecially the staging had many similarities with Don Quixote. A man inn a desperate situation, in a dungeon facing a grim fate finds himself singing for his supper, which is to say his life. A highway man, a dashing rogue, is to be hung at Tyburn but a beggar who has written an opera about his life rewrites his destiny, possibly. It was the surprise of finding such a beautiful thing that kept me from my mattress. As an older man I find I spend alot of my spare thinking time hoping to stumble across resources in art, in music, in cinema, in books that feel as exciting as my discovery of the Sex Pistols felt way back in the day. Something, anything which embodies a type of cultural subversion, a punk spirit, and The Beggar's Opera had it. What a find. What a joy. It really was Like discovering a field of spring lambs dancing and leaping in the sun for the very joy off it.

Brideshead Revisited.

The Mighty Waugh (And The Story Of The Booze."(Thats agreat eighties song play on words,by the way.) Had not read any Evelyn Waugh up until now. Perhaps I have reached the right stage in my life that will allow me to appreciate the more subtle qualities of Brideshead. The prose is desperately beautiful, theres a magical sadness to what he desribes at times. Whether that be his descriptions of locations upon which his players strut, or the percieved inner workings of those characters. It is painfully simple at times but mostly acts like one of those thick brushes used by Chinese caligraphers. Watery washes that swing between oblique black and serated edging. I was drawn to the book by a memory of the early eighties television adaption, which I remember watching at the time, mostly entranced by the slow disintegration of poor Sabastianne. It is a rightly treasured piece of television and has acted as a template for so many attempts to adapt tiger tank novels. It was infinetly more successful than others, I now realise, to hold true to the source material. I know that Evelyn Waugh converted to Catholocism and that this act sent shock waves through the zeitgeist of his times. As one raised in that faith I feel the presence of a very Catholic iteration of the Christian Deity lurking round every decision in the book. Each of the characters, in their own way, live with their own very personal sins. Gods presence is felt throughout the book, unseen, a witness to all if not a participant. I am not sure when in Evelyn Waugh's personal timeline his writing of the book took place. Yet his understanding of many Catholics inner turmoil, our contradictory views on forgiveness and even its possibility, is all there. To begin with I saw Sabastianne's conflict with who he was born to be and who he actually was , was the most easily identifiable of all the characters but by far, for me, was Julia's and her story, the may twists and turns, the ups and downs and her beautiafic understanding of self imposed suffering. Its complex and easy to miss. She rambles so at times, but the truth is a painful journey into the lesser travelled roads of the human heart. As though her idea of a Christmas card would be an Hieronymous Bosch triptych, not sent ironically. For The Devil was at God's elbow when he made man. I have known a few Sabastiennes in my time. People write them off as dipsoes, but they are so much more than that and deserve more. People might look at a fig like Sabastianne and diagnose a weakness of character but thats too simple. He was far kinder, in his own ways, than others were to him. His was a heavy cross to bear, a great big piece of Catholic wood. I think, in the end, Cordelia understood her brother best. Her love for him made her description of the state she found him in truly awe inspiring. That she could look at this wreck of a fallen aristocrat and see an angel, albeit a very human one. They are every where if you could only see.

The Chaos Box.

This is the second , for me, in a series of Doctor Who novels in which The Doctor and friends meet up with real life historical figures, in these instances people who for one reason or another are considered Iconic. In this novella The Doctor deliberately travels back in time to meet his latest favourite writer; Shirley Jackson. In the past his favourite writer has been Charles Dickens, William Shakespeare and HG Wells, meetings during which "things kick off." He travels, with Ruby Sunday, Syracuse University 1937 to meet this much admired American writer, in the years befor she became the Shirley Jackson the wider world would think it knew. Way before she had accomplished anything which contribute to her being regarded an "Icon." Its a strange little novella, more remenescent of Jodie Whitaker's era than Ncutti Gatwa's, as when I read Kalynn Bayron's it fitted that iterations tone more closely. Also nowhere feels more alien a location for The Doctor's travels than America. Sublety goes out the window and stories are told in broad strokes, although The Chaos Box does feel more substantial than that. I could not help thinking that it might have been a more challenging notion to have this iteration of The Doctor team up with HP Lovecraft. Given Lovecrafts unsettling notions on race.To show that The Doctor was capable of a form of graciousness, a forgiving and understanding that most people seem incapable off.Imagine how Lovecraft would have reacted to this brilliant man from beyond the stars who turns all his daft notions on race on their heads. For all his brilliance Lovecraft was a very damaged man who might have responded positively to a mind and an open nature that he had never experienced in his life. But thats a novel in another reality... Its Shirley Jackson in this book and she has surely (No pun intended) earned her place on a list of icons.