Enduring Love

For years I've been putting off reading Ian McEwan's book Enduring Love. Don't get me wrong: I love his books, but mention this one to someone who's read it and I'll bet you their reaction will be a grimace and a wince. Ah yes, that opening scene. The one with the hot air balloon. But I've always wanted to go in a hot air balloon, I'd say. You won't after you've read this, would come the ominous reply. Oh. Drifting around the skies in a hot air balloon is one of my lifelong ambitions, but then so was flying on concorde - scratch that - and going to Antarctica. Sadly I have a suspicion Antarctica will be a drop in the ocean by the time I get round to that. So deciding whether to take Enduring Love off my shelves comes down to a question of effort. It seems I'm fundamentally lazy. Or maybe just pragmatic. I've decided it's easier to read the book than to organise to go up in the hot air balloon. So now I've read that opening. Yes, that one with the hot air balloon. Oh, you'd like to do that? Trust me, you won't after you've read this.

Still on the same book. Still on the opening (the only part I've read so far). Has anyone else been struck between the similarity of the scene in the arrivals hall at Heathrow described by Ian McEwan and that which opens the film Love Actually? In Ian McEwan's words: 'If one ever wanted proof of Darwin's contention that the many expressions of emotion in humans are universal, genetically inscribed, then a few minutes by the arrivals gate of Heathrow's Terminal Four should suffice. I saw the same joy, the same uncontrollable smile, in the faces of a Nigerian earth mama, a thin-lipped Scottish granny and a pale, correct Japanese businessman as they wheeled their trolleys in. ... the variety was in private dramas ... but mostly it was smiles and hugs, and thirty-five minutes I experienced more than fifty theatrical happy endings.'

And in the words of scriptwriter Richard Curtis:

'Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspision love actually is all around.'

The language and style may differ, but the sentiment's identical. Intriguing.

No more viola jokes

A couple of Saturdays ago I heard this quartet - the Jerusalem Quartet - performing at the Bath MozartFest. Wow. For sheer exuberance you can't beat them, nor for true musical mastery. Their Mozart was joyous, their Smetana* memorable. Especially for the outstanding viola solo in the first movement - I'd refer anyone dining out on viola jokes to Amichai Grosz, the Jerusalem's player. Enjoy their Dvorak Quintet (3rd movement) performed here with pianist Stefan Vladar.

*Smetana's autobiographical First Quartet - subtitled 'From My Life' - is a four-movement look back at his life from 1876. That viola solo - impossible to miss - was, in the then deaf Smetana's own words 'a kind of warning of my future misfortune' - during the last years of his life both his physical and mental health declined. The viola theme returns at the end of the quartet as the composer marshals together all the thematic loose ends.

Eagle eyes

 

Le grand duc d'Europe

Bristol has a new resident - an eagle owl. Living in a tree opposite the university's School of Biological Sciences, it seems content to perch high on a branch in solitary splendour. But however content this handsome owl is in his new home, he wasn't willing to act up for the camera! So here's a picture in which you can actually see what you're meant to be looking at:

Preludes (1)

The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o’clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.

And then the lighting of the lamps.

TS Eliot

Quick quotes

He loved the appalling London weather, its foggy, watery softness, in which one can sink as low as the temperature in solitude and spleen.
'In London November isn't a month,' he said, 'it's a state of mind.'

In the words of Mihaly, narrator of Antal Szerb's novel Journey by Moonlight. How true!

Winter tree

 

Who Has Seen the Wind?

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

Christina Rossetti

Universal Laws

Fantastic Mr Fox. Times two. I haven't seen a single fox in a whole year in Bristol (I used to have one living in my back garden in London), and last night I saw in two within ten minutes in different parts of the city (I was in a car). Foxes must, I thereby deduce, obey the law of buses.

Westonbirt Arboretum

 

Three cheers

And it's Obama who storms through the finish line. Only to discover that it's the starting line of a new marathon. Good luck!

Decision time

Now I don't often, if ever, write about politics. But, understatement of the century, tonight's events are too big to miss. If you can't wait to know what the fate of the US, and hence to some extent the world, here's a newsfeed that'll help control the suspense: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/us_elections_2008/7700298.stm Obama or McCain. Heads or tails?

Impalination

And on a similar theme - this is a post I've been meaning to write for a few days - surely no other politician has been mimicked more than Sarah Palin. In her short sejourn in the spotlight, Sarah Palin has become a YouTube star after falling prey to US comedian Tina Fey. The Sarah Palin impersonation - henceforth to be known as the 'impalination' - reached its height last Friday. Why, you might ask? The answer lies in the date: Halloween. Yes, leave behind your zombified, torn-up glad-rags, jettison the witch's hat and broomstick - the only costume to be seen in this year was suit, heels, rimless glasses and beehive hair. At the party I went to there were two Sarah Palins. How many can there have been across the West? And, without fail, while people struggled to distinguish between vampire, evil fairy and witch, Sarah Palin was met with, 'Now that really is an evil costume.' What does this mean? Not for me to say - this isn't a libellous blog. I'm just observing; I'm just saying...