Jazzy D's Soul Notes

Simon Callow "Being Wagner" (Harper Collins)





Richard Wagner was, arguably, one of the most influential composers and conductors in the history of classical music. He changed the face of opera from top to bottom; from the way the music was played, the notes were sung, the lighting, even the shape of the theatre itself. He made opera dramatic storytelling. I'm not even sure I can imagine what it was before he turned everything and everyone on their ear.

Richard Wagner was also an unmitigated ass. Not merely arrogant; not merely selfish; Wagner was self-involved, egotistical, short-sighted, fiscally irresponsible and anti-semitic. Additionally, he was described as short, stoop-shouldered and afflicted with an appalling skin condition; we're not talking run-of-the-mill eczema here - words like 'sores' and 'pustules' were used. I mention the physical challenges here because in spite of all of this - the horrible character flaws and the physical challenges - he was apparently charismatic as hell. The crap he got away with, the abuse people took only to come back for more, the sheer number of people who shelled out money to pay his debts and provide him with housing is mind-boggling. Not just in Germany, but in Switzerland, Italy and the UK. All this, and he was not a good person.

I could have probably overlooked the childish selfishness; I could chuckle over his inability to stay out of any riot he crossed paths with. I might argue (weakly), that the trail of broken relationships he left behind him his whole life were people who knowingly attached themselves to this horrible man. But the anti-semitism is a deal-breaker. HIs disparagement of Jews was grossly casual, brutal, unwarranted and irrational. Worse, it was not a phase he outgrew, but a mania that only became more brutal and irrational with age, even though he continued to work with Jewish conductors, musicians and composers until the end.

So Wagner was both artistically brilliant and a horrible human being. This fascinating dichotomy is made still more fascinating by Simon Callow's writing. He masterfully writes this condensed biography with the utmost objectivity, clarity, and just a dash of humor in unexpected places. I doubt very much I could have read any other book about Wagner without dnf'ing it simply because I wouldn't have been able to swallow Wagner's life, but Callow made it not only palatable, but compelling.

Wagner may have created some of the most powerful music ever written - at least some of the most unforgettable - but his music will forever be tainted for me now that I know the man behind it better. The real star that came out of this book, for me, is Callow; his writing ... well, take it as read that I'm gushing over it, because it's some of the best biographical writing I've ever read (not that I read a lot, mind you).

If you're interested in Wagner but don't want a long academic biography, you should absolutely investigate this book; it's fair, it's balanced; it's unbiased and it's excellently written. I highly recommend it.

Cal Flyn "Islands of Abandonment: Life in the Post-Human Landscape" (William Collins)







This is quite good and unusual. Cal graduated from Oxford University in experimental psychology, with a focus on the 'psychology of abandoned places'. A fancy way of saying, she has thought deeply about the many dimensions of abandonment. She has literary sensibilities, an eye for the poignant, and is a great writer. Cal visits a dozen places around the world and riffs on different themes. My favourite is about the herd of feral cows on an abandoned Scottish island farm - what does it mean to be feral, when will they revert to a fully wild species, will they ever be rid of vestiges of domestication? How do cows live when divorced from humans? It turns out, they are pretty interesting, unlike domestic cows. Their lives are legendary, with battles between males for dominance, the landscapes scarred by fights, the rise and fall of "kings", hermits, bone graveyard visits, definitely in need of a Watership Down treatment.

Ultimately, you get a sense that the human/nature divide doesn't exist; humans are a part of the natural processes. This might seem obvious, but for many, humans are a weed, an invasive species. She mentions that inversions often go through a boom and bust cycle; the bigger the boom, the harder they fall. Well, much to consider, nothing definitive or preachy, just some thoughts bravely exposed while exploring abandoned places.

Tim Spector "Food For Life:Your Guide to the New Science of Eating Well" (Vintage)




Something of a let down overall. Whilst Tim Spector and the various experts and contributors at his company, ZOE, have made a profound impact on many people, me included, this book does not quite provide the anticipated scientific background. As you may know, scientific background is my meat and veg when it comes down to the real shebang.

There is a plenty of information, but the conversational style feels more like the text of a podcast and contains some horribly unscientific generalisations. Feels like "I've started so I'll finish" structure. For me it could have been more information dense and concise. Useful Appendices though.

Stewart Lee Allen "The Devil's Cup: Coffee, the Driving Force in History" (Canongate)





Before I start this review I have to confess I am a coffee addict. I love it in all its varieties. This is a pretty good book from that genre of literary non-fiction devoted to trying to be hip by writing about 'obscure' subjects - barbed-wire, screwdrivers, salt, coffee, whatever. Admittedly it started to go a bit strange when it hit the travels going across America where coffee is just another drug bit, but like the history and the discussions of the origins of coffee, as the drug of choice for so many of us.
For the record, for me it is coffee, and alcohol. Not both combined i might add).

Emma Healey "Elizabeth is Missing" (Penguin)





Maud, an elderly woman with symptoms of dementia, is concerned for her friend Elizabeth, who she believes has gone missing. She obsesses on this, repeatedly visiting Elizabeth's house, as well as the police, much to the frustration of her daughter Helen, and the amusement of her granddaughter, Katy. In reality, Maud's condition makes her unable to comprehend the real reason why Elizabeth is not at home.

Maud's days are long stretches of time alone, with a morning visit from a caregiver and an afternoon visit from Helen. Notes are posted all around her house, reminding Maud to lock the doors, and not to cook. Maud also writes notes to herself, to help her remember details. Her pockets are stuffed with tiny scraps of paper, most of which make no sense to her later. Slowly, the reason for Maud's obsession with Elizabeth becomes clear, as Maud reflects on her childhood and the disappearance of her sister, Sukey, in 1946 when Maud was still a young girl. Author Emma Healey deftly weaves narratives from the past and present, unraveling the Sukey mystery while also unraveling Maud's cognitive abilities. Maud's character was exceptionally well-developed and while I have no idea what it's like to slowly lose your memory, this felt like a realistic portrayal on both a physical and emotional level.

An excellent first novel in my opinion.

Heard the news that another recording artist has passed away. This time it is Roberta Flack.
She was known as the quite storm in some spul circles , so here is one of her most famous sons, written by the Scottish folk singer, Ewan McColl.

Roberta Flack - The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face



Written by Ewan, for his lover Peggy Seeger, singing here.
Roberta Flack's version transformed it to the version that everyone copies and knows today.
Peggy's version is beautiful in its own right, seeing as it was written about her, for her.

Peggy and Ewan did not marry until 1977.

Thinking of that song reminds me that I have a book to finish off.



Peggy Seeger was born in New York in 1935. She met Ewan McColl in 1955 who was two decades older with a wife. She would share the next thirty three years with Ewan. Together they built up the foundations of the British folk revival. They had a daughter, and her name, more famous to pop people, was Kirsty McColl.

Kirsty Maccoll - A New England



This song - A New England - was written by Billy Bragg.

And here is Billy's own version.

Billy Bragg - A New England



Well, R.I.P. kirsty and Roberta.

It has been another great day here in town. More festival events taking place across the literary world. After the wonderful Jnnifer Lucy Allan talking about her new book on Clay, today I attended a poetry evening.

This was held at the Guidhall.



The poet that enthused me most was Maggie Harris , the others were Rosie Johnston and Michael Bartholomew Biggs. I bought Maggie's current set of poems.



Maggie Harris, originally comes from Guyana.



I shall be reading that over the next few days with glee.

This morning, I was listening to music at home, from around nine through to at least one in the afternoon. Mostly vinyl, such as ones by Marianne Faithfull, Cymande and The Wailing Souls, plus the album (on CD) by 75 Dollar Guitar called I Was Real.

Lunch was sausage casserole with butternut squash cubed and peas.
Dinner when I arrived home this evening was a bowl of garlic mushrooms with a touch of soaya sauce.



Well, I might pop into town on Sunday, but my next event day is a week away. Monday I will be heading to Brighton for a short visit to see my brother.

Oona Frawley "Flight" (Tramp Press)




Sandrine is from Zimbabwe. She’s in Ireland on a student visa, supposedly to learn, but she is really there to work, to find a better life for herself, her husband and child back home, and her unborn child that she is keeping secret. She finds a job caring for Tom and Clare, an elderly couple who can no longer manage on their own. Their daughter Elizabeth doesn’t live with them and has a bit of an awkward relationship with her mother. The family used to live in Vietnam and America, where Tom worked in the spice trade.

It’s a very emotional read. It’s hard to see one’s parents fade away in terms of health, both physical and mental. As Tom becomes a mere shadow of himself, his story is unravelled through his memories and recollections of their time in Vietnam and America. My late grandfather had dementia and the last time I saw him, I don’t think he knew who any of us were. I was living away from Singapore by then, and learnt of his death via Skype. So it was hard to read of Tom’s decline.

“His hair is softer than she expected, thinning, and the scalp pulses like a newborn’s. She senses this pulsing in her hands. He is living, his mind is moving, and he is looking up at her with surprised, glazing green eyes. Her tears are for nothing. There is nothing to weep for, since he is unaware, gazing at her crying or laughing with the same indifferent emptiness in his look which seems always surprised now because everything lacks for him the context of memory.”

This is also Elizabeth’s story, one of belonging and fitting in – or not. Her childhood in Vietnam and America, then moving back to Ireland, then back again to Vietnam. Where does she belong? Is she Irish? Is she American? It’s similar to my own family. We are from Singapore, but the kids, being born in the US, are American citizens. We travel to Singapore once a year, and both sets of grandparents travel up here at least once or twice a year. My five-year-old once described himself as a Singaporean American. I wonder how he will feel in the future. Will he still have a connection to Singapore?

Although we don’t really learn much about Sandrine’s life in Zimbabwe, her experiences in Ireland are the key to this book. Her struggle to adapt to life in Ireland, to learn to be a caregiver for these elderly people she now lives with. The racism she experiences is because of the colour of her skin.

“She does not know that it doesn’t matter how she perceives herself to fit in. What she feels, how she might work to become part of this new society, it makes no difference. Sandrine has been spat and cursed at, has peered with shock into women’s faces as they have sneered at hers – she expected better of women and has been disappointed. At moments the desire to commiserate with another black Zimbabwean is overwhelming. She knows of the news that instances of assault are on the rise, the country is increasingly angry about non-nationals, and there is a referendum coming up that scares the life out of her.”

Flight takes time to get into. But when you do get into it, it is a gem. It is a story about feeling lost, both within the world and within themselves. It is unsettling, it is emotional. It is a thoughtful story that makes you examine your own life, your own situation, and where you belong.

Why did America vote Trump in again?

Are they blind or fooled by the emperor's clothes?

This is already a kleptocracy as well as an oligarchy of unhinged individuals that should not be even near the White House. A fascist dictatorship - almost!

I doubt Starmer is not strong enough against this bully. Too wishy-washy I am afraid.

Four years of dRump will be awful for the world!!

Book 5 - John Lanchester "Capital" (Faber & Faber)




This book starts like a small rock slowing rolling down a snowy hill that eventually turns into an avalanche. You are left with silence and white powder at the end of the novel.

John Lanchester’s novel borrows its title from the famous Karl Marx and his “Das Kapital”. Although, the book is not exclusively about a struggle between the proletariat and bourgeois. Rather, it is a more complex observation of how we, in a modern society value, treat, and exchange money and capital.

The novel, for me, felt very Dickens-esque. The story is set in London, and like in a Dickens novel, the city itself is its own awe-inspiring character. Lanchester follows a group of people who either live or are connected to the people who live on Pepsy Road. He slowly weaves the characters into each other, until at the end of the novel their lives become almost all intertwined.

I would suggest that if any one is interested in understanding more about Lanchester’s ideas that they should read his nonfiction novel “Whoops: Why Everyone Owes Everyone and Why No One Can Pay”. Lanchester looks at the rich who feel poor, the poor who know the value of money, and the middle class that are in between in name and nature.

For me, one of the most powerful lines in the book was delivered by the character Smitty, an anonymous artist who goes around London pulling off art stunts. He says:

The stuff which can’t be sold, that’s the stuff which makes everything else seem real. You can’t commodify this shit. Which is the whole point” (p.82).

The book has a strong themes of debt and profit, but not just in the financial understanding of these words. It is about familial ties and obligations that stretch from Mary helping her sick mother, and the Kamals coming together when Shahid is imprisoned. These obligations to family can also be spoken of as debts and profits. And this is the stuff you can’t sell. As Smitty would say, “You cant commodify this shit.”

The book is fairly long, closed to 600 pages, but it is well worth the read. I actyally started reading this book i December. There is always something happening and as each chapter swaps from family to family, you are spurred on to read one more chapter to find out what happens to each family.