Why I won’t be watching the Watchmen

One of my favourite books is American Psycho.  The constant bored tone Ellis uses is stunning.  I've never seen fiction handle boredom and disconnection so well.  When the film came out I decided not to watch it.  I couldn't see a movie replicating the things I admired about the book.  The requirements of a Hollywood movie would sensationalise a book I loved for its lack of sensationalism.  I didn't want this  completely different work to alter the way I thought of a novel I liked.

I feel the same way about Watchmen.  I love the book.  I remember arguing for hours with friends about which characters were the most moral, who was 'right'.  Then I watched the first trailer and heard Rorscach's voice.  In my mind Rorscach speaks in a weasely voice, closer to his secret identity than the figure he cuts in costume.  In the clip I saw he sounded more like the trailer-man.

I love the novel Watchmen.  I love the way it's paced, the speed at which it unfold when I read it.  I love the details in the background, the detours the story takes.  Like Alan Moore I can't see these things working in a movie.

A couple of links from LinkMachineGo sum up two other reasons I don't want to see the film: the tacky associated merchandise ("we're society's only protection"?) and that it's not likely to be a good adaptation.

I hope everyone enjoys the film, it's just not for me.

But everybody knows that…

One of the most useful things I learned on my masters was the importance of citation.  It's not enough to provide a fact: you need to be show where it came from. 

I once spent a few hours in the University library tracing William Burrough's assertion that Tristan Tzara caused a riot by performing random poetry on stage. I'd seen the fact quoted in various places but ended up fairly sure it was an exaggeration on Burrough's part (as unlikely as that sounds).  By a process of repetition the story had gained an academic credence.

Another important thing I learned was to be suspicious of common sense.  If 'everyone knows' something it's worth figuring out where that belief comes from and what its limits are.

David Aaronovitch has written a brilliant article in the Times investigating the statistic that we are caught on CCTV 300 times a day.  It's a fantastic demonstration of how 'everyone' can come to know something.  (via As Above)

I’m reading an “erotic story” at Short Fuse, March 8th

What did I do at the weekend?

Well, I spent Sunday revising a story, which involved reading a great deal of Anais Nin.  Reading industrial doses of erotica is a strange thing.  After the first hundred pages or so it all blurs together.  You turn the page, hoping for a surprise and…  Oh wow, people fucking again.  

Still, I persevered, finished the story, and sent it off.  I received an email this morning to say it's been accepted and I will be reading The Dirty Bits at Short Fuse's erotica night this Sunday.

The story is on it's 3rd title, having previously been called Dirty Books and Madrugada.  I originally wrote it back in 2007 and it's waited on my hard drive since then.  The revised version is much stronger, and features excerpts (samples?) from Anais Nin and Georges Bataille. It's going to be an interesting piece to read aloud, a little showier than my usual pieces. 

Short Fuse is on March 8th in the Komedia's Studio Bar and costs £4 entry.  The night also features short stories from Tom Rice, Afsaneh Gray, Naomi Foyle and the poet Catherine Smith. It should be quite a night.

Sita sings the blues

Back in December Roger Ebert raved on his blog about an obscure movie called Sita Sings the Blues on his blog.  The movie is described as "An animated version of the epic Indian tale of Ramayana set to the 1920's jazz vocals of Annette Hanshaw".  Reading Ebert's description I decided I had to see this film.  But the article ends on a sad note:  "the songs Annette Hanshaw sings (composed and recorded in the 1920s!)
in the film are still restricted by copyright, and therefore no one is
free to distribute a film that uses them, no matter how brilliant the
film may be."

Then yesterday an event turned up in the upcoming RSS feed for Brighton: the local Flash programmers group are showing the movie.  It turns out the rights issues have been resolved and the film is now available for free download.

I don't yet know if the film is as good as promised but I'm excited to see the Internet is working as it should be.  You read about an odd, obscure film, then a locally organised group put on a showing.  No marketing or advertising required, just a couple of appropriate RSS feeds.

A disappointing weekend that turned out OK

I had big plans for this weekend but most of them fizzled.  I was due to meet someone on Friday to discuss a collaboration and failed to find them.  Saturday I had an appalling headache that drove me to spend the whole day sleeping.  And, because of a (almost-healed) back injury, I missed today's Sussex Beacon Half Marathon.

But this weekend has not been a disaster.  I've read some interesting books, most fascinating of which was In Praise of Shadows.  This is a book on aesthetics by a Japanese novelist, Junichiro Tanizaki.  I particularly loved the description of the effect of dark tableware on soup.  The level of detail has left me spending the weekend noting little things about the world around me. 

Downsides to the book were some unpleasant theorising on aesthetics and race, and the translator's appalling afterword.  He claims "the urge to edit Tanizaki is "almost irresistable" because his essay doesn't have the "symmetry and logical progression" expected by a "Western reader".  "His descriptions of lacquerware under candlelight and women in the darkness … are perfect jewels; but would they not stand out to better advantage removed from the company of that murmuring bowl of soup…?".  No, not really.  

(A quote I loved from the introduction to the book: "The sun never knew how beautiful it was until it fell on the wall of a building" – Louis Khan)

I woke up at 5:15am this morning feeling refreshed, so read until it was time to get up.  After lunch I visited the Brighton Zine Fair's market.  Wow.  I picked up loads of interesting reading, but could easily have come away with much more.  It was an exciting and inspiring event and I'll try to write a separate post about it.

I'm now trying to wrap up the weekend ready for Monday and will hopefully have time to write my piece for Other People's Stories, which is likely to be about high-paid commuters and cheap flats. 

Anna’s Museum

Here's something I saw on Upper Western Road: Anna's Museum.  It's a collection of trinkets and artifacts curated by a child or an adult with interesting handwriting.  It's little things like this (the Deans, the isthisyou people, the weird snowmen) I love Brighton for.

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Sunday I went to the Art Junky flea market where my housemate Kirsten was exhibiting some of her Stride Designs work.  Art Junky was awesome: good cake, fantastic stalls and a roaming band – imagine the coolest jumble sale ever.  I picked up some lovely art books by Milly Freeman and Kate Blegvad.

Apart from that the weekend has been quiet.  I hurt my back on Friday lugging heavy bags, which has meant I couldn't run today.  I'm hoping that gets better very soon.

Wordplay

I was very nervous about reading at Wordplay last night.  I was reading second, following the incredible Spliff Richards, which made me even more nervous.  As it was the audience seemed to enjoy themselves and I felt OK once I was reading (although onstage might not have been the best place for me to start improvising edits of one section).  Rachel afterwards described me as a ‘solid’ performer, which is, I think, a compliment.  It was a lovely evening, also featuring the charming Bristol poet, Nathan Filer, who reduced one woman in the audience to tears (of laughter,  fortunately).  Thank you to Rachel for inviting me to read.

Here’s a video of Mr. Filer with his poem Perfidious Albino:

Incorporating Writing

The new issue of Incorporating Writing is now out (downloadable from here).  It was guest edited by the Tight Lip team, who asked me to contribute an interview with poet Gary Goodman.  I spoke to Gary towards the end of last year at the Royal Albion hotel. 

Editing the interview into an article was interesting work.  Some fascinating responses were cut to allow the article to flow.  Halfway through we were interrupted by an accident outside, a young woman knocked off her bicycle by a learner driver.  It was a disturbing thing to watch and seemed as if it ought to be recorded, but never fitted into the interview.

The magazine is a good read, featuring some provocative articles, an interview with China Mieville and photos from Sam Collins.