Ahead of the Tide: To Calais, in Ordinary Time

To Calais in Ordinary Time by James Meek

Cannongate

Pp. 389

Mixing elements of The Canterbury Tales and Shakespearean comedy, this story takes place in South-West England in 1348 as a group of bowmen (led by a man called Hayne) travel through the country from Outen Green in Gloucestershire to Calais to fight the French, as the plague is advancing steadily towards them. As the novel was published in 2019 all the reviewers drew contemporary parallels with Brexit and the existentialist threat of the climate crisis, but anyone now would automatically think of the Covid pandemic.

The novel is narrated from three different people’s perspectives, all with a clearly different voice. Will Quate is a serf who is bound to work the land of a nobleman, and he is betrothed to local beauty, Ness, but he sees a better future in proving himself an archer and buying his freedom through his service. The Lady Bernadine is the daughter of the aforementioned nobleman and betrothed to his friend in a deal done between them which favours the old men and not their promised daughters. Seduced by romantic notions inspired by a French novel, Le Roman de La Rose, she believes herself in love with a young knight, Laurence Haket who happens to be the owner of the troop of archers. Lastly, Thomas Pitkerro is a proctor or clerical administrator from Avignon on secondment to Malmesbury Abbey, who just wants to go home. He provides a record of the journey and acts as a substitute priest to the travellers.

The bowmen are earthy and brutal: with the exception of Quate, who has joined them later, they are rough men who kill, kidnap and rape. There are stories of fights and people being put in the stocks; there are set pieces of violent battles and startling frank sex scenes. Lady Bernadine thinks she is in love with Laurence Haket, but he has failed in her ideas of courtly love and has got a country woman, Ness, pregnant. While she steals away from her father, she disguises herself as Madlen, who is pretending to be Lady Bernadine, but Madlen is actually Hab – a rough young serf, pretending to be his sister, Madlen, wearing a dress he stole from Bernadine. Will Quate has agreed to marry Ness, but he falls for Madlen, while knowing she is an incarnation of Hab. It’s a mixed up muddled up shook up world indeed; one could almost call that a Shakespearean plot.

Some of the etymology is intriguing in itself: a river full of fish is ‘fishous’; once a woman is pregnant, she becomes the responsibility of the man who impregnated her – she must marry him and become his burden/ burd/ bird. The language is part French and part old English: the common-folk do not understand the words of the nobles and vice versa. The adventures and exploits will end at the sea, but for some, it ended when they left their village. “Only in Merioneth are there true things. Only there is the world true and forever. Here, or in France, everything is a tale. All shifts. Everything haps once, no more, and then it’s gone, out-take that some bard like me minds it.” If stories aren’t remembered, they might as well never have occurred. James Meek suggests that we need a common language to understand them.

Due Care and Attention

Due Care and Attention

I lead an active life

But I’m very clumsy

And I bruise easily,

like when I give blood,

or bump into furniture,

or trip over uneven paths.

He always comes with me

And waits while I’m treated,

like when I fell off my bike

and smashed my front teeth,

or skied into a tree

and fractured my arm,

or tipped over the roast pan

and burned the skin off my hand.

Today I played netball,

collided with a player,

and broke my nose.

The nurse looks at me

and at him, waiting,

and she asks, quietly,

“Is that netball?”

I say yes. Out loud.

For the first time ever.

What happens

Now?

Friday Five: The Latest Theatre

1. This Changes Everything - Echo Youth, The Q: In a dystopian future, a group of young adults try to set up their own society, called The Community, on a platform out in the sea - the set with hierarchical levels and isolated pods works well for symbolism and lighting opportunities (Direction by Jordan Best; Lighting design by Jacob Aquilina). Written by Joel Horwood, it's not necessarily a novel idea (I wouldn't be the first to call it Animal Farm meets Lord of the Flies) and many of the motifs of a disingenuous leadership model are familiar - rules written on the wall are altered to suit and the founder of the group mysteriously vanishes, said to have fled and abandoned the remainers. As a British viewer, it's impossible not to think of Brexit, but there are many other issues and themes ('the negatives of Capitalism; the inequalities bred by exponential growth; a culture failing to engage with causes or impact of climate change') which are all generally well-handled, although the 'abuse trope' seems glib and unnecessary. The play also explores the fine line between Socialism (in which each works according to their talents) and Communism ruled by a totalitarian dictator, in which the level of violence and oppression are well-pitched at an adolescence; they can all be aware and concerned, but not still safe and not traumatised. Jade Breen has solid conviction as the Stalinist overlord, Maja; Tara Rose Blake as Kim, the one who switches sides to become the enforcer is believable and nuanced, and Will Best also stands out as Basic Jane, the cynical one trying to keep their head down and avoid being noticed (Animal Farm's Benjamin, if you will). There are the usual awkward moments and projection issues seen in junior casts, but generally this is a respectable piece of theatre that should be encouraged. 
2. First Seen: Barren Ground by Helen Machalias - The Street, Street Theatre: Helen Machalias is such a great talent and I was intrigued to see what she would do next. This rehearsed read did not disappoint. I loved the exploration of the liminal spaces between life and death; myth and relaity; advertising dreams and political realities. Refugee's stories at an off-shore detention centre (on Christmas Island between 2010 and the closure of the centre in 2018) are told against a supporting framework of The Tempest where 'brave new world' poetry collides with 'stop the boats' rhetoric. When this returns as a full production, I will be first in line.

3. Hand to God - Everyman Theatre, ACT HUB: I've not seen this play before, but I read that it won the Off Broadway Alliance Award for Best New Play and received five Tony Award nominations in 2015, although it closed early when it transferred to London and didn't garner such glowing reviews. I'm not surprised. It's crude, crass, blindingly obvious, and, according to the original playbill, an 'irreverent puppet comedy... about a possessed Christian-ministry puppet'. The widowed Margery (Steph Roberts) runs a Bible-promoting puppet-class attended by her son Jason (Michael Cooper), the sleazy teenager Tim (Joshua Wiseman), and quirky girl next-door, Jessica (Holly Ross). Men expect respect for no apparent reason, and women exist to give it to them - Steph Roberts deserves better than the demeaning cougar-seduction role she's given. Sure, she does it well - she does everything well - but this borders on hot-for-teacher-soft-porn fantasy.  To make this message more palatable (and supposedly satirical), Jason becomes fused with his demonic puppet, Tyrone, and Pastor Greg (Jarrad West filling in for Arran McKenna) has to perform an exorcism, while also trying to woo Margery despite the fact that her husband has only just died. Michael Cooper is quite brilliant at physical comedy and the combination of his acting skills and Jarrad West's slick slapstick direction make this less than just a repulsive piece of low-brow misogyny (mocking organised religion is hardly cutting-edge). In its favour, at least the entitled incel released his toxic masculinity with his hand up a puppet, not on a gun.  
4. Romeo and Juliet - Canberra Repertory Society, Theatre 3: Co-directors Kelly Roberts and Chris Zuber use a young cast who display energy and enthusiasm, although many lost the poetry with the pace of their delivery, rushing the words and trying too hard to put their own stamp on this classic. Annabelle Hanson plays Juliet as a determined teenager who decides what she wants and goes for it, although it appears to be more independence from her parents (Richard Manning and Crystal Mahon) rather than love for Romeo (Pippin Carroll).Through her strong stance, balled fists and rigid posture, she radiates power and poetry with no need of any love interest - indeed she convinces more in her individual scenes than in those with Romeo, which lack chemistry or passion - this is not helped by the setting of their intimate scenes (the meeting; the balcony scene the bed scene) on distant parts of the stage. Carroll works hard on diction and projection but sacrifices passion and feeling, leaving the audience to rather engage with Mercutio (a fine performance by Anneka van der Velde whose restless movements imply there are hidden depths to the character hidden behind a facade of bravado) and the Nurse (Tracy Noble), who both bring the necessary energy and choric interpretation. 
5. Ngadjung - Belco Arts, Belconnen Arts Centre: If you get a chance to see any work by Dylan Van Den Berg, see it. He is an original and incredible young talent who makes theatre that moves, inspires, connects, provokes and questions. In his director's notes, Van Den Berg explains that 'Ngadjung emerged from an original provocation to write a play about water - First Nations connection to water, human connection to water.' His play casts two women in a futuristic (and dry) environment, controlled by corporations who have privatised, monetised and politicised water to make it a commodity to which only the wealthy have ready access. Lisa Maza plays Flick, the elder who is desperately trying to maintain her connection to Country in a landscape that is irrevocably changing, and Kylah Day is Cass, the young interloper who stumbles across her patch, hiding from pursuers determined to repossess the secrets she stole. The relationship between these two actors is superb as their stories collide, mingle and separate like tributaries in a river. Production standards are also outstanding from the evocative set (designed by Imogen Keen) to the sound (Peter Bailey) and lighting (Linda Buck) design which create tension and atmosphere. In an extraordinary coup, Belco Arts commissioned this work from Van Den Berg, and it can only serve to enhance the significant reputations of all concerned. As with the inherent call to action against ignorance of climate change, this is one that demands to be seen and heard. 

Kylah Day and Lisa Maza in Ngadjung

You Spin Me Right Round, Baby: The Music Shop

The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce

(Black Swan)

Pp.354

Frank owns a music shop which only sells vinyl, and he has the gift of being able to find the right music to soothe a person’s soul or mend their marriage. One day a beautiful woman, Ilse Brauchmann (manic pixie dream girl in a pea-green coat), faints outside his shop and they have a relationship. She says she doesn’t listen to music so he teaches her how to hear it. It turns out she was a highly proficient violinist but now has arthritis and can no longer play. And she is engaged to someone else. Of course she cares for him, but the author introduces deliberate (and illogical) stumbling blocks to draw out the story. Frank is not actually all that nice but he’s got lots of friends who encourage him in his romance (Richard Curtis style) including Maud, the tattooist, a woman who has always been inexplicably in love with him, and Kit, an incapable but passionate assistant. It’s very light and fluffy and employs every trope known to rom com, and yet the added appeal comes from the music and nostalgia.

Frank’s finest characteristic is his sense of community with the other shopkeepers. “Here they were, living together on Unity Street, trying to make a difference in the world, knowing they couldn’t, but still doing it anyway.” Ilse is supposedly cute, but immensely irritating. They meet for the lessons about music, in a café called The Singing Teapot, and the waitress becomes involved in their story too, which is charming, delightful, twee and completely unrealistic. Meanwhile, the author tells us everything so there is no room for mystery or suspense.

Music has magical properties, and listening to it can release oxytocin – books are written like this about cookery all the time; all the chapters are named after songs and there is an accompanying soundtrack. The novel contains frequent time shifts as we are cast back to Frank’s relationship with his mother, Peg, who taught him how to really appreciate music. This rapport is more interesting than that with the girl.

Music, especially vinyl, is part of the nostalgic focus of the novel, and it should be enjoyed as an experience. He uses the difference between CDs and records as a metaphor for life (God only knows what he’d make of music-streaming services), refusing to accept that he and his music shop are out of date although several reps and customers stop calling. He maintains that vinyl is messy and fragile, and therefore, more human.

The novel is Notting Hill meets Black Books; it is obviously written with one eye on the film rights, but it will doubtless be taken over by an American company who will change the setting and ruin it (see High Fidelity). Music is closely aligned with memory because it stimulates emotions, and that is what matters. Ilse remembers Frank because, “You didn’t talk about the technique of music. You told me how it felt when you listened.” Love may tear us apart, but music is best experienced together.

My Newest Favourite Thing: Galeanthropy

Penelope pretending to be a cat

I have learned a new word, which I absolutely love.

Galeanthropy: A mental condition of thinking that one has become a cat, usually manifest in the adoption of feline mannerisms and habits.

I think Penelope may have it. That is all. 

Le Carre's Last Stand: Agent Running in the Field

Agent Running in the Field by John Le Carré

Viking

Pp. 281

The last book that John Le Carré wrote is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a fast-paced action with a clear story and credible characters. Themes of espionage, defection and loyalty may have seemed passé, but nationalism and protectionism are once again current: the old enemy is back, reinvented as the new enemy and we may need to defend our nation and concepts of freedom and democracy all over again from plutocrats like Putin. The novel is crammed full of code names and secret spy business, played out against a backdrop of Brexit, Trump and greedy oligarchs in a contemporary environment.

Nat is a forty-seven-year-old veteran of Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service who plays badminton and lives a pleasant and seemingly settled life in London with his wife, Prue, who does pro bono legal work for worthy causes. He is somehow manoeuvred into playing badminton at his exclusive private club against a young upstart, Edward Shannon, who has ideas, and he is not afraid to expound them. With an older mentor’s indulgent attitude, Nat finds himself looking forward to these meetings, although the book is written in retrospect as he reflects upon them.

The premise is that Trump has helped to engineer Brexit so that Britain has to rely on Russia for financial and political assistance, which is obviously going to be grubby, and be beholden to the USA once again. Tellingly, Trump does Putin’s dirty work for him: “pisses on European unity, pisses on human rights, pisses on NATO. Assures us that Crimea and Ukraine belong to the Holy Russian Empire, the Middle East belongs to the Jews and the Saudis, and to hell with the world order.”

There may possibly be “an Anglo-American covert operation already in the planning stage with the dual aim of undermining the social democratic institutions of the European Union and dismantling our international trading tariffs.” This operation will also “disseminate fake news on a large scale in order to aggravate existing differences between member states of the Union.” One former spy is horrified to think that he risked his life to see the Great British Empire, liberal conscience and Christian values replaced by “a cartload of hypocritical horseshit”. In present circumstances, division and in-fighting will not be difficult to engineer.

The language of spies follows form: a newspaper in which hand determines whether it is safe to talk or not; letters written suggest the opposite of what is declared. There is, however, a refreshing respect for women, which is often absent from male hard-boiled thrillers. The novel is elevated by its use of witty and decisive one-liners to describe characters and actions. For example, one high-ranking official has a “cheery port-and-pheasant voice”, while another “doesn’t do confrontation, which is something we both know. His life is a sideways advance between things he can’t face.”

At 281 pages the novel is shorter than many of Le Carré’s previous heavyweight thrillers, but it is engrossing and entertaining, packed with set pieces, old tropes and new angles. We live in a world of surveillance and, while anyone may express almost anything on the surface, there are people watching our utterances and manipulating our movements, biding their time until we can become useful to support a pet project. Gripping stuff.

With a Pinch of Salt

I've been thinking about my post last week, and what an incongruity there is between the epergne that was awarded to the Campbells, and the bushrangers who attacked them in their home. I am often inspired by the authors I read and I am currently reading both 1788: Comprising of A Narrative of the Expedition to Botany Bay and A Complete Account of the Settlement at Port Jackson by Watkin Tench, and Diary of a Somebody by Brian Bilston. 

While describing the behaviour of the convicts in Port Jackson, Tench lamented that they were punished for stealing food. Rations were systematically reduced as food was scarce, but the convicts still had to toil for long hours in high temperatures "without adequate refreshment." Those who stole food were frequently flogged and chained together. Tench decries, 

"The first step in every community which wishes to preserve honesty should be to set the people above want. The throes of hunger will ever prove too powerful for integrity to withstand."

This is as true now as it was in 1788, or in 1864 when the bushrangers stole from the landowners. And it seems trenchantly symbolic that the victims were awarded an ornament designed for displaying and sharing condiments in turn created to enhance and complement fancy food. With this and the pithy wit of Brian Bilston 'the poet laureate of Twitter' in mind, I crafted the following (with apologies to both).

You were always keen as mustard,

To spice things up,

Not to curry favour

But to rub salt in the wounds.

So you got us all in a pickle

Then sat back gingerly

All big cheese and toffee-nosed,

As though butter wouldn't melt.