Terrorist — John Updike

Last week I read an extract from John Updike's latest, "Terrorist".

Its a duff book in many ways, a vehicle for a person to express sustained misanthropy, because the 'protagonista' is a resentful Muslim in the heart of America. I detect a certain amout of glee for this opportunity to vent.

I don't know any of his other work, as it doesn't really travel, but I've heard it said that the old man's a classic WASP.

Based on the short excerpt that I read, its a collection of stereotypes, and very little effort has been put in to try to understand all the other motivations of this 'viper in the nest'.

It surprises me most that Updike has written this Now . . . 5-6 years ago [at the time of 9/11] it would have been much more understandable for an American to present this sort of picture, but after half a decade, to only have come up with the same old crap suggests to me that there's been a traumatic failure of intelligence — the rabbit in the headlights.

The other direction he could have gone . . . is to present two characters; one who lives an insular life, who can't understand how another person lives and has no interest in how things affect others; and the other who's been raised to see how every interaction results in a clear winner and clear loser in a global sense.

Updike's had a neural-collapse in his metaphor department.

"Pity the Nation"

2 years ago I read the book which is by Robert Fisk, a correspondant for 'The Independent' in Beirut for 25 years. As it keeps getting referenced at places I've visited recently, I'll mention it here. It has the same feel and level of relentless detail that you'd find in Alexander Solzhenitsyn's work. Its an exhausting read, but I must add, it isn't all joyless either.

The link here is more expansive than I can be right now.

Anti-nunciation

In this latest Lebanese crisis, I've noticed that every Israeli spokesman has made a really big deal out of the name of their Arch-Enemies, taking every opportunity to emphasize the 'H' with a heavy gutteral sound . . . . it got me wondering about whether this is some sort of in-joke, maybe it matches an expression of contempt by mimicing the sound of someone hawking up a looger, or even that it might be an offensive pun in Arabic.

Hezbollah have been around for a while now, and I've never heard anyone pronouncing it in this way before. So out of interest, I checked it on Google, and yes, Hezbollah is meant to be pronounced by emphasing either the SECOND or THIRD syllables. But I don't yet know whether this is an insult or not.

I don't like this attempt to coerce me onto a particular side using this contemporary Shibboleth, the Old Testament proudly tells us that 42,000 Ephraimites were slaughtered by the tribe of Gilead because this word identified them — nice.

Its not PROnunciation, its ANTInunciation.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shibboleth
http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/theeditors/2006/07/today_s_pronunciation_hezbo.html
http://upyernoz.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post.html
http://hollywood-elsewhere.com/archives/2006/07/post_4.php

From Spain

My mood is good right now. But can it cope with brokering an arrangement with the mother of my Son over the future of his education, where they are going to settle for his primary stage schooling, and increased access to him for me. I feel that things are attainable when I'm reasonably happy, but as I've said before, this little doorway in the year limits what I can fit through it.

I pray and pray She will allow for the rest of our families to play a larger role, which for her means relinquishing some of her freedom to move around as much as she has, but also allow for a chance of respite — is she willing? More soon.

Summertime

I love this weather (30ºC), I've been waiting since October 2005 for my life to get started again. With the relentless sluggish depression that is known as S.A.D. lifting only a month ago — it is a hell of a wait.

With no money for a break in Spain for some "winter sun" — the only way to get some vitamin D is through synthetic means, as my light-box is only good for simulating the sun-up you normally miss in the winter, well it was a start — a shame it can't do more for me.

My beautiful garden is also flourishing: my raspberry canes are having a bumper crop this year — I've let it take up a third of growing space, and the plant has been fruiting for 5-6 weeks now, despite a drought here in the South East of England. These fresh raspberries make me so happy, they mirror of my mood this time of year — just as fruitful.
Because I can't eat a crop this large fast enough, I love being able to give them away , it makes me feel that my life isn't in vain, or that I am a waste of resources — my normal mode.

My bamboo makes a good screen in the no-fence area I call my garden, it is loving this sun, making all growths more solid and compact, and the shoots are so dry that they are crystal hard within a week of sprouting: whereas my abundant Honeysuckle has really taken to the trellis I put in last year, and its blooms produce that gorgeous highly condensed perfume in the evenings.

This weekend I was coaxed out of my valley to a highly genteel party in rural Cambridgeshire . . . Is it wrong to adore your cousins this much?
I suspect it is . . . I'd not seen these two women since 1998 in Vegas — I'd met them when I was 3, but then their family moved to Texas, then Arizona, then New Mex, then Nevada, and etc. The youngest with lots of tatoos, is a photographer, has been married three times now and has sprouted all kinds of children, lives in a tiny house and has the adoration of all kinds of her neighbourhood's waifs and strays. The eldest is a doctor in child psychology, and the epitome of Southern Charm School manners, she now lives in Evansville Indiana with her English husband who is employed as choir-master/composer for a large Presbytarian Church. If I wasn't related, I'd never've met these two wonderful people, hmm, well . . . at least we have some kind of link, because they are really special characters.

Note to self — must get out more !