Friday Five: Still Cross Stitch

I've had a lot of time in the evenings for this cross-stitch malarkey. I enjoy it and it helps me to feel productive while I'm at home watching television because we haven't been able to leave the house for a while. Social media means the word still comes to me, and a lot of it makes me angry, so this helps deal with some of those feelings too. The designs and words are from Rayna Fahey's Really Cross Stitch: For when You Just Want To Stab Something a Lot. The poor execution and random colour changes are due to a certain level of disorganisation on my part for which she cannot be held accountable.

Rebel rousing: Stick it to the man

"Are you pretty rebellious? This pattern is rebellious and pretty.

"Were you one of those kids whose teacher used to complain because you asked too many questions? Excellent. My favourite kind of human. Never, ever stop questioning.

"Do you know what I ask myself when faced with a big political challenge? What would Pippi Longstocking do? Well, the world's favourite feisty nine-year-old would probably throw a few politicians up a tree, while turning cartwheels and mocking gender roles."

Nanacore: With age comes wisdom

"#1 slogan of the nanacore.

"Once upon a time, a long, long, long time ago, and then a bit before that, women took to the streets to march for the right to have control over their bodies.

"My body, my choice, has always seemed a pretty basic concept to grasp. For some gobsmackingly unbelievable reason, there are still men in this world who believe they're better placed to make these decisions. Who are these people? Don't they have something better to do with their lives? It would be nice if some bro gangs would pull them to one side and remind them that women aren't property anymore."

Act your rage: We've got this all stitched up

"The best thing about this pattern is its versatility. No matter what the issue of the day is, you'll be ready! 

"Before photography, a protest sign was made to inform passers-by of the reason and logic of your protest. They were often lengthy and rather verbose. The advent of photojournalism and then television meant signs got shorter and snappier. Now we have social media the humble placard has evolved into a locus of wit.

"Sometimes, however, the rage is too intense for puns. In that case, this pattern is perfect."

If I must *sigh*

"Throwing your hands in the air in despair rarely gets you anywhere. Try shaking your fist instead.

"As my grandmother used to say, 'It is what it is'. You've just got to get on with it. It's just like weeding a garden. You pick a weed out but it's already self-seeded so you need to weed again but also plant some wildflowers in its place. And you say, 'Shit man, I already took care of that,' but the roots are already in there and it's gonna take a few goes. Sometimes loads of goes.

"So get together your small committed group of determined people and change the world already!"

Results are in: Not being dead is pretty ace

"You know politics has gone completely ridiculous when scientists have to take to the streets in the name of well, facts.

While I was writing this book my kids all went down with influenza. Thanks to antibiotics, they're still alive! Then there was that time I got cancer, and then got rid of it. Still alive! Thanks Science! Science is great for lots of things aside from helping us stay alive, make beer and shoot rockets into space. Science is also great for letting us know if we're killing our planet and what we should do about it. Which it's currently doing. Let's listen to the experts, huh?"

Childhood entitlement: Birds, Beasts and Relatives

Birds, Beasts, and Relatives by Gerald Durrell

Penguin

Pp. 245

This is the second instalment of Gerald Durrell’s Corfu Trilogy in which he continues with stories from the first book because the family say he has missed out all the best bits. As it is the same time period as the previous work, we don’t really need re-introductions, although it is interesting to see what the family members thought of their portrayal.

Gerry introduces several extra characters to us, mentioning Larry’s many friends who come to visit, including Max and Donald, and Sven who plays the accordion. We are also introduced to Countess Mavrodaki, “the recluse par excellence”., and we learn about his tutors, such as George, and his final (for this book) tutor, Kralefsky, a keen aviculturist (a person who keeps and rears birds) and a storytelling fantasist. He also provides greater depth to characters we have already met, and he describes his meeting with Theodore Stephanides, to whom the book is dedicated ‘in gratitude for laughter and learning”.

Gerry still collects animals for his menagerie: an owl called Ulysses; three dogs; and “there were rows and rows of jam jars, some containing specimens in methylated spirits, others containing microscopic life. And then there were six aquariums that housed a variety of newts, frogs, snakes and toads. Piles of glass-topped boxes contained my collections of butterflies, beetles and dragon-flies.” I remember things that I learned from reading these books as a child, such as the fact that snails are hermaphrodites.

Gerry has a child’s viewpoint and assumes that people and things exist for his entertainment. He experiences bucolic activities such as harvesting olives, but also is witness to live birth, and his reaction is less palatable. The description is anatomical but also unpleasantly dispassionate, perhaps because the human is foreign. “I was so used to the shrill indignation of peasants over the most trivial circumstances that I did not really, consciously, associate Katerina’s falsetto screams with pain. It was obvious that she was in some pain. Her face was white, crumpled, and old-looking, but I automatically subtracted ninety percent of the screaming as exaggeration.”

Furthermore, his description of the gypsies is somewhat uncomfortable in a modern setting. “I had always wanted to get on intimate terms with the gypsies, but they were a shy and hostile people… and although they would allow me to visit their camps, they were never forthcoming, in the way that the peasants were in telling me about their private lives and their aspirations.”

When Mother receives unwanted attention, and even a proposal of marriage, from a ‘disgusting old brute’, Captain Creech, she is naturally horrified and a little bit afraid. The children all laugh and ridicule, and she counters, “When there’s a real crisis, you children are of absolutely no use whatsoever.” Yes, this is an amusing anecdote, but she is a single woman in a foreign country in the 1930s with no respectable family to protect her.

Gerry writes of people as though they were specimens to be studied as his animals, birds and insects; because they are foreign (or female), they are other and this dispassionate approach is a little off-putting. These are still great stories of their time, but a deeper look reveals some more unsavoury aspects, which can be excused from a child’s account, but not really as an adult reader.

Friday Five: Pass the Pasta

Spaghetti Bolognese

Spaghetti Bolognese; Seafood Linguine; Macaroni Cheese: It took me a long time to realise that these were composite meals and that Bolognese sauce could exist without spaghetti or that linguine could accompany things other than seafood. In fact, as a student, when not living exclusively on potatoes, I would make variants of a dish that incorporated spiral pasta (fusilli), onions, tuna, white sauce and turmeric; yes, it was a bit odd, and yes, it did leave yellow stains all over the kitchen.

I have since learned that there are over 600 pasta shapes, each with an individual history and gastronomical function. Some can be stuffed or used in soups; some are better suited for holding sauces in their ridges; others work well with baked dishes. They have evocative names which may refer to the region form which they originate (Linguine is from Italy's Liguria region - and, I was pleased to see, was created to be paired with seafood or pesto).

Strozzapreti pasta

The names may be due to more exotic etymology, such as Strozzapreti, for example, which means 'priest-choker' or 'priest-strangler' in Italian. Apparently, this is not because the hand-rolled pasta typical of the Emilia-Romagna, Tuscany, Marche and Umbria regions resembles a rolled towel fit for the purpose, or even that the shape could be construed as a clerical collar, but because the pasta was so delicious that gluttonous priests ate it too fast and ended up choking themselves. 

I have heard that by the time one becomes a responsible adult, there will be at least one type of pasta that you don't like. This is yet further evidence that I have not reached that stage of development yet, because I haven't got any particular dislikes. I do, however, have favourites.

Ricotta, spinach and chicken cannelloni

5 Favourite Pastas:

1. Bucatini - It resembles spaghetti but with a hollow centre. Ideal for holding sauces like cacio e pepe (cheese and pepper in other words), it produces a weird but pleasant sensation when sucking up the strands.
2. Cannelloni - This cylindrical pasta is a filled noodle, baked and covered in sauce, that literally means 'large reed'. Basically, a tubular lasagne, it is popularly stuffed with spinach and ricotta or minced beef, and drenched in tomato sauce and Béchamel. I once made a recipe for 'cannelloni for a crowd', without reading through to the end of the recipe before I began. It was delicious but I ran out of pans in which to bake it, as it turned out to serve 12. Of course, the clue should have been in the name, but it was a good lesson to always read the complete recipe first before beginning the procedure (not necessarily something I have entirely learned so the words 'marinate overnight' can still strike dread into my heart).
3. Conchiglie - I like the name; I like the shape; the shells come in a range of sizes and are wonderfully versatile allowing for thin and chunky sauces.
4. Penne - A tubular pasta cut at an angle to resemble quills sounds incredibly artistic. It is excellent when cooked al dente and can be used in all manner of dishes from salads to casseroles. 
5. Tortellini - These circles of pasta are folded in half to form a semi-circle after the filling is added, and then twisted to form the shape of a little hat (much like wontons in Chinese cooking). A larger version of tortellini is called tortelloni and is the size of a walnut. Originally from the Emilia region of Italy, they are typically stuffed with a mix of meat or cheese and topped with light sauces or served in broth. They are similar to ravioli, but somehow seem more exotic, especially when called by their alternative name, ombelico, which means belly-button.

Meatball and tortellini soup

All Things Come to Those Who Wait: The Penelopiad

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood

Canongate

Pp. 196

Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad is part of The Myths series (other authors include Chinua Achebe, A.S. Byatt, Alexander McCall Smith, Ali Smith, and Jeanette Winterson) which offer alternate approaches to the tales we think we know. This novella is a companion piece to Homer’s Odyssey, providing a female-forward counter-narrative to the story of Odysseus’s quest with his heroic journey and the intervention of the Gods in the lives of mortals. Myths are universal and timeless stories that reflect and shape our lives, and Margaret Atwood provides sardonic asides and a contemporary characterisation of the woman left behind.

Penelope’s experience of remaining, running the estate and defending herself from suitors has always seemed the more interesting part of the story (in the way same way as it was in Cold Mountain) but the focus is usually on the male counterpart and his fantastic adventures. Penelope addresses the reader directly, with a wonderfully clear voice and deadpan delivery, as she wants to set the record straight and present us with her side of the story. She has fought hard for the right to speak, as she sets out from the striking first lines: “Now that I’m dead I know everything. This is what I wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true. I know only a few factoids that I didn’t know before. Death is much too high a price to pay for the satisfaction of curiosity, needless to say.”

She begins with her birth, and the disappointment of realising that her mother, a Naiad, doesn’t really care for her, and her father, fearing a prophecy, throws her into the sea not expecting her to survive. She is understandably bitter: “It never hurts to be of semi-divine birth. Or it never hurts immediately.” She proceeds to write about her marriage to Odysseus and consequent move to his home in Ithaca. Odysseus leaves to fight a war, brought about by Paris of Troy who ‘steals’ Helen from Menelaus. Women are chattels; pawns in men’s battles. Penelope is abandoned for years without protection and with a troublesome son, Telemachus, who doesn’t seem to understand her compromised position or to offer to help her in any way. She weaves a shroud that she unravels at night, delaying her marriage decision until its completion, using the only weapons available to her; cunning and an aptitude for craft. Finally, when Odysseus returns, he and Telemachus slaughter the suitors and hang twelve of Penelope’s closest maids, who have been sleeping with them. The reason for this is never really explained, allowing Atwood free rein with her interpretation of events.

Penelope and her Suitors by John William Waterhouse

Atwood explains in the introduction, that she has recreated the hanged maids as “a chanting and singing Chorus which focuses on two questions that must pose themselves after any close reading of The Odyssey; what led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” The Chorus that the maids form provides commentary and diversion as was archetypal in Greek theatre, interpreting the action through song ranging from rap and sea shanties to light operetta and skipping rhymes, which are typically topical: “we are the maids/ the ones you killed/ the ones you failed / we danced in air/ our bare feet twitched/ it was not fair.”

If there is one thing more interesting than the story, it is in the telling of it, and here Atwood aligns with and diverges from the traditional Greek structure like a twisting river. She incorporates the gods and their intervention in human lives, but she is critical of their motives. She plays with the concept of Homeric epithets and constant repetition: hell is gloomy; death is dark; Odysseus is wily; Penelope is faithful; Helen is beautiful; everybody weeps. Penelope is also aware of the injustice of simple labels, and declares that she wants to flesh out her character, and to defend herself from the one-dimensional moral paragon which has been foisted upon her.

Penelope by Leandro Bassano

Penelope hears accounts of Odysseus’ adventures from the poems and the songs of the minstrels, who embroider the facts to please her. In the art of storytelling, there are different versions, and Odysseus fabricates as much as anyone on his return. “He was always so plausible. Many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. Even I believed him, from time to time.” As with the wonderful Life of Pi, if the outcome is the same does the ‘truth’ matter, or does it all come down to personal preference? Stories were told in the past to help explain events; they are used in the present to conceal and obfuscate.

The chorus of maids delivers an anthropology lecture at the end; a device Margaret Atwood has used in both The Handmaid’s Tale and The Testaments. It makes the stories more scholarly and academic, tying together the interpretations and connections, such as the returning king motif and the overthrow of a matrilineal moon cult.

In Margaret Atwood’s version, Penelope is a suitable match for Odysseus. She knows all about his cunning and tricks. “I knew he was tricky and a liar, I just didn’t think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me. Hadn’t I been faithful? Hadn’t I waited, and waited, and waited despite the temptation – almost the compulsion – to do otherwise?” As Atwood explained in an interview when the book was published in 2005, “There are two ways of fending things off it you don’t want them to happen. One is by force – which is not available to her. The other is by guile. So she has to use guile. And that is also Odysseus’s big stock-in-trade. When in doubt, lie. But lie well.” As this is a reinterpretation of a myth and there is no standard truth, it is impossible to say that Margaret Atwood has lied. But she has re-invented. And she has done it very well indeed.

Penelope by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Friday Five: NT Live

The theatres are closed and many of us have been missing live performances terribly. Since the beginning of this pandemic, the National Theatre has been screening live productions of its plays, which has helped me get my fix. It's not the same as being there, but it certainly helps. I hope we all remember the importance of this artistic medium when we are able to face the world again, and that, just as the arts have supported us through this crisis with cultural sustenance, we support them right back with financial assistance. 

5 National Theatre Live Productions:

1. Frankenstein (2011) - I watched both versions which played in tandem, one with Benedict Cumberbatch playing Dr Frankenstein while Jonny Lee Miller undertook the part of The Creature, and the other one where they swap roles and everything else remains the same. This is more than just a gimmick: BC's Creature is angry and bitter; his Creator deeply troubled, whereas JLM's Creature is more humorous and quizzical; his Creator angry and arrogant. The supporting set, costumes and acting from the rest of the cast are sublime and the experimental steampunk element that director Danny Boyle introduces is a clear forerunner to his Olympic Games Opening Ceremony the following year, with its stark aesthetic and musical underpinning by Underworld.
2. One Man Two Guvnors (2011) - I took my parents to see this in London, with a different cast but the same production. It is positively frenetic, and James Corden is a tour de farce. The reverence with which the source material is treated, complete with knowing asides and dollops of dramatic irony make this a great piece of entertainment (director, Nicholas Hynter, dropped it into the middle of a 'serious high-minded season' for light relief). The perfect blend of verbal and physical humour will have them lol-ing in the aisles. 
3. Present Laughter (2019) - actors are a tricky bunch: they are naturally dramatic but want to be taken seriously. Noël Coward probably knew this more than most, and his depiction of Gary Essendine, a highly-strung bi-polar actor with an entourage, is portrayed with infinite intricacy by Andrew Scott. I tried to find a male noun for a flamboyant person but they all alluded to the individual's sexuality rather than their mental state, and any term for throwing tantrums, being temperamental or emotionally demanding had a female gender bias such as diva or prima donna. According to modern media, male meltdowns are either comedy fodder or concerning spirals into mental illness; Matthew Warchus' contemporary production of this 1940s classic explores this dichotomy from a fresh angle, only occasionally tipping the scales too far in the balance of mania.



Crossing party lines in This House


4. This House (2013) - Party politics can often seem farcical, and so they adapt seamlessly to the stage in this premier production of the timely drama written by James Graham and and directed by Jeremy Herrin. The setting is the turbulent years of 1974-1979 in the UK, when Labour struggled to keep enough numbers in the Commons to pass bills and enact legislation. The tally of members is calculated on an ever-changing chalk board, including people being brought in from their death beds to vote, and promises of bigger offices and newer furniture. The party whips are metres apart in the corridor, and claustrophobically close on stage (while the auditorium doubles as the benches of 'this house' with members emerging from the audience) while they indulge in the literal fisticuffs and petty point scoring more at home in a school playground. It is a building full of bullies, bawdy humour and the fledgling sexism of the 70s, which makes a ripe background for satire and commentary on the class roots of the major parties.   
5. Twelfth Night (2017) - The Shakespearean play best know for cross-dressing and gender fluidity is an obvious choice for blind casting. Initial reservations at seeing a Malvolia rather than a Malvolio are swiftly overcome by the skill of Tamsin Greig's acting and the sensitivity of Simon Godwin's directing. The twins are well matched through personality with Tamara Lawrance and Daniel Ezra displaying a similar sense of fun, and the Count (Oliver Chris) and Countess (Phoebe Fox) are both a lot more appealing and less pompous than in many productions. The festive element is heightened with party hats and feather boas, but occasionally teeters towards excessive camp. The slick set changes are remarkable, and a fountain on stage is always a highlight. 

Tamara Lawrance as Viola and Oliver Chris as Orsino in Twelfth Night

Gently Hurling: After She Left

After She Left by Penelope Hanley

Impact Press

Pp. 337

This novel focusses on three generations of women and in particular the mother/ daughter relationship, but the characterisation is shadowy and they all blend into one. Penelope Hanley obviously has things that she wants to say about Irish immigrants, illegitimacy, art, Sydney, politics, and the Women’s Liberation Movement but the forced plot and the unnatural dialogue does her story a great disservice. The granddaughter, Keira, is trying to do a photo essay project on her grandmother (Deirdre Wild)’s art, but her mother, Maureen, resists saying much about her, creating a sense of mystery. It transpires she had an illegitimate child after an affair with a married man; this is not a scandal today and the consequences of it then aren’t covered well enough for it to merit the supposed shock.

There are ways of blending historical detail seamlessly into a novel, which Penelope Hanley ignores. She uses newspaper articles to fill in details, or clunky discussions about conscription and the Vietnam War; Whitlam’s speeches are transcribed. Neither does the author follow the advice given to every aspiring author of ‘show; don’t tell’. The description of Deirdre’s peripatetic lifestyle reads like a route map, and rather than trying to weave the effect of the artworks into the narrative, Hanley chooses to describe Deidre’s art in a mock newspaper review; a three-page long account of the paintings and the artistic style supposedly from the Sydney Morning Herald.

Queen Elizabeth II officially opening the Opera House on 20th October 1973

Characters discuss sexism in art, and the architecture and politics of the Opera House in a way which is simply unrealistic. Keira won’t go to the opening, because the author wants to shoehorn in her opposition to the monarchy. The frequent discussions about gender roles and how women do all of the “domestic stuff” even when they have a paid job too, are clearly important, but are presented as daughters and mothers lecturing each other with full speeches. It plays to the gallery so strongly I feel as though I’ve been hit over the head with a pop-up placard. Earnest debates about apathy and change read more like a social history textbook, and the writing is turgid as no noun is left with an adjective; no verb without an adverb. “When she let herself in, Lady, in a quick dash of woolly curls and wagging tail, hurled herself gently at Keira, barking ecstatically, her paws on Keira’s thighs.” – can a dash be anything but quick? Can one hurl gently?

Depth is implied through what the characters are reading, perhaps hoping their knowledge and ideas might be inferred; all books are mentioned from Iris Murdoch and Erica Jong to Germaine Greer and Simone de Beauvoir. Apparently constant mention of characters’ outfits is also a substitute for giving them any personality. This could have been an interesting tale but it is submerged in layers of overblown prose, excessive detail, stilted dialogue and indistinguishable characters.

COVID 19 Friday Five: More ISO TV

The A Word, season one

Following a previous post, I am still watching far more television that I normally would. But, hey, I think we've all agreed that nothing is 'normal' anymore.

 

5 More COVID-Friendly TV Series:

1. The A Word (BBC First) - With a punk, post-punk, new wave and indie classic soundtrack of the best music evs (download it from Spotify: it's six hours long) and the stunning backdrop of Lake District fells (often with Christopher Eccleston running over them), this drama looks and sounds exceptional. The titular A word is autism as a family comes to the realisation that their son has it, how they incorporate it into their daily lives, and how the wider community accepts it. It's a rather air-brushed version of reality (no one is mean or petty) but the dialogue (Peter Bowker) and character dynamics are superb. There are currently three seasons (2016; 2017; 2020) and I'm bereft now that I have watched them all.
2. The Capture (ABC iview) - In a society where we rely on surveillance to protect us, it is terrifying to think that it may be easily manipulated. This tense British crime drama written by Ben Chanan and starring Holliday Granger and Callum Turner is gripping, intelligent and startlingly contemporary. With a tagline of 'Seeing is Deceiving', it is the homage to Orwell's Big Brother that we've been waiting for. 
3. Dublin Murders (SBS On Demand) - A crime drama that follows in the footsteps of Broadchurch or Shetland with a mardy moodiness, intriguing writing, and enough flashbacks and plot twists to keep things interesting. Sarah Phelps has adapted Tana French's best-selling novels to a binge-worthy small screen format. However, none of the characters are at all sympathetic, and when one actor/character pretends to be someone else, viewers with prosopagnosia may lose the plot. 

4. The New Pope (SBS On Demand) - If you thought The Young Pope was bonkers (and you'd be right), wait until you see The New Pope. With the incumbent lying in a coma (providing several cameo opportunities for Jude Law), it is up to the cardinals to choose a new leader. After a few false starts they settle on John Malkovich who plays his part with delicious inscrutability. The serious side explores the dichotomy between those who think the Catholic Church represents compassion, and those who fear it has been irrevocably corrupted by sexual and financial scandals. Meanwhile, the throbbing soundtrack and camp, raunchy undertones entertain with twenty-first century sentiment. 
5. Sanditon (BBC First) - Andrew Davies has adapted Jane Austen's unfinished novel (her material covers half of the first episode) into a period drama which will delight Janeites and Regency fans alike. There is a typical predictable romance between an insipid female and a dull and pompous male, but all the subplots and actors are excellent. We have the injustice of female marital imprisonment, an employer's legal and moral responsibilities to their employees, a matter of race and preconception, and a rotten pineapple. All of these are framed by charming set pieces such as a picnic among the bluebells, a rowing regatta on the river or a cricket match on the beach. And Anne Reid takes over from Dame Maggie Smith as the indomitable dowager.