Matching Curtains

President Obama

Guess who started a new job this week?!

'Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America - they will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics ...

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.'

Read the full text of President Obama's speech here.

Yes Pecan!

Ben & Jerry's have always been my favourite purveyors of the cold sweet stuff. And now I know I am right in my thinking: they've produced an Obama-inspired ice cream called, yes, you guessed it: Yes, Pecan!

Briliant.

Last minute newsflash

If anyone is reading this early on in the day, tune into Radio 4 where the Today Show is being edited by Jarvis Cocker! Click here for information ...

Oh, and happy revelling tonight people - all the best for 2009!

Yes We Can! President Obama

Hooray! Barack Obama and the Democrats did it!

I am SO happy today - tired, but happy! I got in from Angus, Julia and Martha (more of which will follow) and stayed awake until nearly 2am watching the US election coverage - then got up at 6am to carry on. Change is in the air, the world is moving forward and I couldn't be more pleased. News footage of an elderly African American man in tears of joy reduced me to the same state this morning - what historic and moving times for America and the world.

Election Day

So after all the long campaigning, today is decision time in America. Obviously I've made my allegiance very clear on this blog, so I'm heartened by the opinion polls which indicate Barack Obama will be the next President of the USA. Let's hope that the polls are something we can rely on (we all know they can be deceptive but this guy just HAS to get in so I pray they have significance!). I may not be an American citizen but it's clear that the result of this election will have massive implications for the entire world and that Obama is the man for the job. At this stage it's a waiting game and I will be following events as closely as I have the run up. It's exciting times in world politics and all that is left for me to say is: Go Barack!!

Dreams from My Father - Barack Obama (or my gushfest)

Anyone who knows me will have been subjected to my overwhelming praise for this book over the past week or so. The memoirs of Barack Obama (now officially the Democrats' presidential candidate) were written shortly after he became the first African American president of the Harvard Law Review in the mid nineties, and are written with an honesty and grace that is a joy to read. I know Obamania has taken over the media and it's become almost boringly de rigeur to salute him as a beacon of hope amidst the quagmire that has become American politics over the last few years, and that this risks being tiresome so far ahead of the US elections, but what can I say? I really enjoyed this book - give it to someone without a context and I reckon they would relish the opportunity to read about such a varied and interesting life, irrespective of their political leanings. As this was written so long before Obama became a senator, it is devoid of the polemicising and tub thumping which accompany many political biographies: the book comes over as more of a novel than a standard biography, colourfully written and without the turgid, didactic prose one comes to expect from political figures. Obama's family and friends are drawn vividly and candidly with a ready humour and sensitivity and the narrative thread is really accessible.

In Dreams from My Father Obama deals with his family's histories both in America (on his mother's side) and Kenya (on his father's side), pulling them together to plot his own story and experiences as a mixed race child growing up in a middle class white family in the sixties and seventies, and all the attendant confusions and complexities which went with it. He depicts his childhood in Hawaii with grandparents Toots and Gramps with real affection, and also fondly discusses his move to Indonesia with his beloved mother and stepfather Lolo which makes for fascinating reading and helps to explain his later work with some of the dispossessed sections of American society. His school and university days are relayed with a frankness that is also refreshing for someone of his stature - his experiences with marijuana are a far cry from Bill Clinton's disclaimer that he 'didn't inhale' - and his search to feel a sense of belonging and find out about a father he never really knew allows us a glimpse into a man's heart as well as his ideals. Obama's father moved back to Kenya to his other family and children shortly after he was born, and they only met a handful of times before he died. Obama was raised by his white American grandparents for a good proportion of his childhood and his situation was a unique one for the time. The book details his struggle to find an identity which was more than the reductive racial binaries society offered at the time, and is truly moving. A particularly distressing moment comes as a child, when he chanced upon a Life magazine article about a black man who tries to lighten his complexion:

'The man had received a chemical treatment, the article explained, to lighten his complexion ... There were thousands of people of like him, black men and women back in America who'd undergone the same treatment in response to advertisements that promised happiness as a white person ...

I imagine other black children, then and now, undergoing similar moments of revelation. Perhaps it came sooner for most - the parent's warning not to cross the boundaries of a particular neighborhood, or the frustration of not having hair like Barbie no matter how long you tease and comb, or the tale of a father's or grandfather's humiliation at the hands of an employer or cop, overheard whilst you're supposed to be asleep.  Maybe it's easier for a child to receive the bad news in small doses, allowing for a system of defences to build up - although I suspect I was one of the luckier ones, having been given a stretch of childhood free from self-doubt.

I know that seeing that article was violent for me ... I could correctly identify common greed or cruelty in others, and sometimes even in myself. But that one photograph had told me something else: that there was a hidden enemy out there, one that could reach me without anyone's knowledge, even my own. When I got home that night from the embassy library, I went into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror with all my senses and limbs seemingly intact, looking as I had always looked, and wondered if something was wrong with me. The alternative seemed no less frightening - that the adults around me lived in the midst of madness.'

How distressing is that passage? It really illustrates the extent of the poisonous taint of racism and as the book goes on, Obama shows a profound understanding of how such prejudice can create problems which are as much to do with poor self-image as they are about social exclusion, and contribute to a vicious circle of inequality. Throughout the book, Obama presents his life story in an enjoyable, pacey style without denigrating the importance of it's themes - race, inheritance and identity. He describes how he flirts with a number of political and religious groups (by now we are probably all aware of comments about his involvement with the controversial figure Rev. Jeremiah Wright) before finding a vocation as a community organiser in Chicago, discussion of which offers some of the most inspiring moments in the book, as we see him as a young man cutting his teeth on the campaigning trail. Also affecting is the description of Obama's revelatory trip to Kenya with his half sister Auma, which offers him the opportunity to demystify the past and come to terms with the man his distant father was, for good and for bad.

Barack Obama's compelling story makes the reader appreciate how much family, whether present or absent, shapes you. It also brings home the huge issue of race in America and the stereotypes which bedevil people of all ethnicities as they pass through life and try to break down traditional and modern boundaries. This book presents us with a man who is both morally and intellectually impressive: the fact that Obama worked as a community worker in Chicago's deprived neighbourhoods assures us that he has a more rounded life experience than the likes of the privileged but frankly stupid Dubya, which makes me hopeful that the US will soon have a leader who is compassionate and intelligent (qualities sorely lacking in the current White House incumbent). The book ends on a high note, inferring that we could all benefit from leaning on family and community to achieve positive ends. It might sound sappy, but the tone of this book is neither sentimental or naive - but hopeful. 

Barack Obama has yet to outline some of the policies which he promises will give America the 'change' it needs, but he clearly has an understanding of the world and its problems on a micro as well as a macro scale which can only bode well for his inauguration into world politics. He is evidently an idealist and whilst I agree that he could benefit from anchoring these ideals to more concrete plans, it's irrefutable that if he becomes President we will all be living in truly historic and optimistic times. Yes, I evidently have a new hero. Go Barack!

Hmm ...

So Gordon Brown has endorsed comparisons of himself with Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights - click here for the full 'story'. I've always said there was a mild similarity between the pair, all brooding and manly :-)

But seriously, what this story points to is a misconception about Emily Bronte's character that has grown throughout the years - culminating in Cliff Richard(!) of all people playing him. Heathcliff is a puppy killer (yes that's what I remember first - not the grave digging) and a monster in the book, but numerous film adaptations and plays have sanitised him throughout the years to render him something of a heart-throb whom women lust after. The romantic figure of a Heathcliffian, dark haired, intense and brooding man has become token imagery for the object of women's passions. In truth if you read the (sublime) book he is a cruel tyrant. Poor Gordon. I know what he was getting at, but he's a bit wide off the mark. I have a soft spot for our beleaguered PM despite myself.

Incidentally, one of the things I love about the book is that it's so untamed and unlike the more decorous writing style employed by some of Bronte's peers. Scenes from the book are so vivid in my mind and I've read it time and time again. The fact its heroine and hero are so ... nasty to one another and others was surely an unusual fact at the time and still is. Aren't you supposed to root for the lovers? Aren't they suppose to be ... well, nice? And you do root for them in a way, if only so they stop being so bloody awful to everyone else. Poor Edgar. He never stood a chance.

Emily Bronte was also a fantastic poet. One of my favourites amongst her poetry is 'My Comforter', something a close friend once sent to me. It means a great deal to me and always brings tears to my eyes:

Well hast thou spoken, and yet not taught
A feeling strange or new;
Thou hast but roused a latent thought,
A cloud-closed beam of sunshine brought
To gleam in open view.

Deep down, concealed within my soul,
That light lies hid from men;
Yet glows unquenched--though shadows roll,
Its gentle ray cannot control--
About the sullen den.

Was I not vexed, in these gloomy ways
To walk alone so long?
Around me, wretches uttering praise,
Or howling o`er their hopeless days,
And each with Frenzy`s tongue;-

A brotherhood of misery,
Their smiles as sad as sighs;
Whose madness daily maddened me,
Distorting into agony
The bliss before my eyes!

So stood I, in Heaven`s glorious sun,
And in the glare of Hell;
My spirit drank a mingled tone,
Of seraph`s song, and demon`s moan;
What my soul bore, my soul alone
Within itself may tell!

Like a soft, air above a sea,
Tossed by the tempest`s stir;
A thaw-wind, melting quietly
The snow-drift on some wintry lea;
No: what sweet thing resembles thee,
My thoughtful Comforter?

And yet a little longer speak,
Calm this resentful mood;
And while the savage heart grows meek,
For other token do not seek,
But let the tear upon my cheek
Evince my gratitude!

Fargo

I revisted the film Fargo, directed by the Coen brothers, over the weekend and thoroughly enjoyed it. The film is a kind of morality tale and thriller about a man called Jerry Lundegaard (played by a wonderfully feckless William H. Macy) who, in debt up to his teeth, engineers a kidnap plot where two crims, Carl and Gaear (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) hold his wife to ransom so that his wealthy father in law will pay the ransom and Jerry will split the proceeds with them so that they release his wife unharmed, Jerry using his half to pay off his debts. Or at least, that's the idea. We know from his expressions and the family relationship with his overbearing father-in-law that Jerry is one of life's failures and things don't look good for him from the offing. Unsurprisingly, things with the kidnapping don't go to plan. When Carl and Gaear end up commiting a triple homicide on their way back from the kidnapping, a series of events unfold which draw in the heavily pregnant and likeable local police chief Marge Gunderson, played by Frances McDormand. McDormand gives the chief a real sense of moral fibre that doesn't seem hackneyed and the idea of a pregnant woman taking on a dangerous killer doesn't seem to figure as an issue - we know that she will get her man and that good will overcome bad - even as we feel sorry for Jerry and the Greek Tragedy his life has become. It's also pretty funny in the way that all Coen brothers scenarios are.

The story is professed to be true when the film starts; this is the subject of some debate but this equivocality goes to show how playful the Coens are with ideas of truth and reality and underscores how they eschew definitions. The tale demonstrates that there is comedy to be gleaned from the most macabre of plots; for instance Jean, Jerry's wife, tries to escape her kidnappers whilst entangled in a shower curtain and ends up falling down the stairs; and 'funny looking' Carl, played by a marvellous Steve Buscemi, steals every scene he stars in. I particularly enjoyed the bar scene when they meet Jerry and Carl says, 'I'm not gonna debate with you Jerry. I'm not gonna sit here and debate'. There's something absurdly pompous in his tone which just cracks me up. The interplay between his weasley, garrulous presence and his co-conspirator's sullen monosyllabism lends itself to comedy - but a comedy which implodes startlingly everytime Gaear's rage manifests itself to terrifying effect. This contrast between farce and bleak tragedy makes the film a rather difficult one to pin down in interpretation - you couldn't call it an out and out comedy as it's very disturbing in parts, and yet the tragedy is countered by the random humour which does make its way in (such as the scene between Jerry and a disgruntled customer at the start, or Marge and one of her cops, who in contrast to her evident intelligence, seems to just say 'yah' a lot).

The film's cinematography is to be commended: the wide and empty snow-covered Minnesota settings are wonderfully shot and a ghastly contrast to the blood which starts to spill as the film progresses. Most of the colours in Fargo are muted, from Jerry's depressing puffa jacket and the dark colours of Marge's uniform, to the tan sierra Jerry loans the kidnappers, but the white and red are shockingly vivid. Scenes showing cars emerging through the snow filled skies set to a haunting score, and the bleak contrast between the snow and blood, linger in the memory long after viewing. Highly reccomended and worthy of many return views.

Fluidity of class

I just read the most interesting article on the BBC wesbite and feel compelled to share it. Please follow this link.

The following quote from Julian Baggini sums up my feelings about feeling trapped between classes, feeling in a state of flux:

"Just because someone has the trappings of the middle classes doesn't mean they adopt middle-class culture."

I feel very proud of where I come from and hate the denigration of the working classes in comedies like Little Britain, which are paradoxically often adored by the very people it seems that Walliams and Lucas are laughing at. Whilst Peter Kay's brand of humour is more of an old fashioned view of the working classes, it's a gentler, more empathetic view of a world he clearly comes from. I'm guessing that the men behind Little Britain are from more 'comfortable' backgrounds than the likes of Mr Kay. The 'chav' and scrounger mentality derided in stuff like Little Britain should in no way be considered definitive of working class culture and this overlap in contemporary media enrages me more than anything else.

In some ways I think class is more fluid than its ever been, but with it comes attendant anxieties and insecurities. As long ago as when DH Lawrence was writing characters like Paul Morel, socially aspiring individuals would comment on the difference class makes to an individual and how difficult it is to feel a sense of belonging or kinship when moving into another class bracket. Fiscal security and class is also less straightforward than it used to be - I am in a middle class occupation with fringe benefits but typically blue collar jobs like mechanics, building and plumbing carry a greater earning potential. Where does that leave class?

Interesting ...

P.S. Apologies to anyone who suffers reading this rant!

£5 million donation to the Bod

Some fantastic literary material is set to be displayed in the hallowed precincts of Oxford's famous Bodleian Library, thanks to a £5 million donation. Julian Blackwell, of Blackwells Publishers, has given the library the donation which will go towards the creation of an exhibition hall at one of the library's sites and allow texts such as original copies of the Magna Carta, a handwritten version of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, and an embroidered handwritten book by Queen Elizabeth I, to go on display.

For me, The Bodleian library and the Radcliffe Camera always symbolise the majesty of learning which Oxford stands for - I will never forget the time I first saw the 'Rad Cam' as it is known. I was up for interview at Oxford and strolling round the city as night fell. It seemed to exude a real warmth from within and I was overwhelmed by what seemed to be its magical beauty. If you strip away some of the snobbery and stereotypes which still exist in the city of the dreaming spires, the libraries reveal a core which is still dedicated to learning and which you can only respect. The aquisition of funds to enable historic texts to go on public display is evidence of this and I am delighted by this latest development. Despite my complicated feelings towards the university and my time there, I still have a faith that this is what it should be about - reading, thinking and learning as much as you can. The texts being displayed are examples of what you become part of, whether you like it or not, when you are connected to the university: years of tradition and scholarship. I think there is a very long way to go before working class kids like myself can enjoy all of this freely, without feeling out of place next to the people - students and staff - who see Oxford as their entitlement rather than their privelige. But despite all of this it's hard not to puff your chest up with pride when you hear news like this - in the university and in yourself.

I hope in 100 years from now, the wider access the university is trying to achieve results not only in more kids feeling they could apply, irrespective of class or race, but also in feeling that bit more confident in their achievements once they are there. No matter how well you do, the confidence and swagger of the economically advantaged still dwarfs many a newcomer to Oxford who is not from a middle or upper class family. In my time there I was one of many who felt there was still a way to go before true equality amongst students was achieved - an equality which sadly had little to do with academic performance and everything to do with advantages notched up by virtue of social status. The classes will never be abolished and are a fact of life, but Oxford should stand for egalitarian, intellectual freedom above everything else. The fact we will have a book written by a woman which was viewed as improper and scandalous at the time (Frankenstein) and a document which led to the development of constitutional law in England and limited some of the monarchy's powers (Magna Carta) on display in the university, is for me a symbol that we should continue to move forward and innovate, to be inspired by this and not the Oxford paraphernalia and stereotypes society has grown accustomed to.