http://www.lrb.co.uk/ Literary review publishing essay-length book reviews and topical articles on politics, literature, history, philosophy, science and the arts by leading writers and thinkers en-gb LRB (London) Ltd. Thu, 14 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT 20160 ben@lrb.co.uk (Ben Campbell) registrar@lrb.co.uk (Ben Campbell) http://www.lrb.co.uk/assets/images/lrb_160_w_on_b.gif http://www.lrb.co.uk/ London Review of Books logo http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/raba01_.html current affairs As Barack Obama never tires of saying, America is a country where 'ordinary people can do extraordinary things.' In January 2006, Neil Entwistle, a seemingly ordinary 27-year-old Englishman with an honours degree from the University of York, who had been living in the US for barely four months, shot dead his American wife, Rachel, and their baby daughter, Lillian, with a long-barrelled Colt .22 revolver borrowed from his father-in-law's gun collection. By the time the bodies were discovered in their house in Hopkinton, Massachusetts, huddled together beneath a rumpled duvet in the brand-new four-poster bed bought by the couple just ten days before, Entwistle was home in England, living with his parents in Worksop, as if what had happened in America was a violent dream from which he'd woken to reality in his old back bedroom at 27 Coleridge Road. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/hard01_.html current affairs At the time of the parliamentary elections in Serbia earlier this summer, the possibility that Radovan Karadzic, once the leader of the Bosnian Serbs, might be handed over to stand trial at The Hague seemed remote. The acquittal of the former KLA leader Ramush Haradinaj in April had stunned opinion in Serbia and added to the sense that the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia was a Serb-grinding machine which spat out Bosnians, Kosovo Albanians and Croats intact. The idea of any more Serbs going on trial was not popular: even someone like Karadzic, born in Montenegro, long resident in Sarajevo and regarded by many as a ludicrous figure. His arrest late last month illustrates how rapidly things are changing in Serbia, and how keen the new pro-European leadership is to drive its policies forward. The process of EU accession has long been conditional on the delivery of the big three: Karadzic, Goran Hadzic, a Croatian Serb wanted for the massacre of Croats in Vukovar in 1991, and Ratko Mladic, the hands-on commander at Srebrenica. But the capture of Dr Karadzic - psychiatrist, poet, New Age healer, telegenic bigot and mass murderer - is the greater public relations coup. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/klar01_.html current affairs Unlike the oil 'shocks' of the 1970s, the current energy crisis is almost certain to be long-lasting. None of the quick fixes proposed by pundits and politicians - drilling in protected wilderness and maritime areas, curbs on commodity speculators, pressure on members of Opec to increase output - is likely to have much impact. In 1973-74 and again in 1979-80, events in the Middle East led to a sharp reduction in the flow of oil from the Persian Gulf, causing a contraction in global supplies and a rise in energy prices, and thus sparking a global recession. But when equilibrium of a sort was restored to the region, the oil began to flow again and the crisis passed. Now, however, the imbalance between supply and demand is largely due to factors inherent in oil commerce itself - and so is less easily solved. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/clar05_.html art Henri Matisse's portrait of his wife, Amélie Parayre, was first shown at the Salon d'Automne in 1905. The catalogue called it simply La Femme au chapeau. Journalists soon decided (or pretended) that Matisse's painting was scandalous, and the public turned up in droves to make fun of it. So far so predictable: the script was forty years old. But on 15 November something unusual happened. Two paragraphs of real and vehement criticism appeared in the Symbolist journal L'Hermitage, signed by the painter-critic Maurice Denis. Ever since, they have haunted our picture of 20th-century art: What one finds above all, particularly in Matisse, is artificiality; not literary artificiality, which follows from the search to give expression to ideas; nor decorative artificiality, as the makers of Turkish and Persian carpets conceived it; no, something more abstract still; painting beyond every contingency, painting in itself, the pure act of painting . . . What you are doing, Matisse, is dialectic: you begin from the multiple and individual, and by definition, as the neo-Platonists would say, that is, by abstraction and generalisation, you arrive at ideas, at pure Forms of paintings [des noumènes de tableaux]. You are only happy when all the elements of your work are intelligible to you. Nothing must remain of the conditional and accidental in your universe: you strip it of everything that does not correspond to the possibilities of expression provided by reason . . . You should resign yourself to the fact that everything cannot be intelligible. Give up the idea of rebuilding a new art by means of reason alone. Put your trust in sensibility, in instinct. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/soar01_.html science and technology http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/wood01a.html film http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n15/meek01_.html current affairs Looking through the photographs I took in Tewkesbury in May, I found two pictures of Chuck Pavey and his floodwater hand. There's Pavey, a 66-year-old retired electrician in a Manchester United hooded top, a wispy white pageboy haircut and dark glasses, standing by a wall on the bank of the River Avon. He's holding his right hand horizontally in the air, about thirty centimetres above the top of the wall, which comes up to his waist. The olive-coloured Avon ripples away, three or four metres further below. In the background is an arched pedestrian bridge, a willow tree with its lower fronds stroking the water, and the massive red brick wall of a derelict flour mill. In the next picture, Pavey is standing next to the freshly whitewashed wall of the White Bear pub, looking more agitated, as if he's afraid I still haven't got the point. It's the same stance, except that this time the hand has risen above his head. It hovers about two metres above the level of the road; it comes three-quarters of the way up the casement of the pub window. I got the point. If you'd tried to stand where Pavey was standing on Monday, 23 July 2007 - the day water levels peaked in Tewkesbury - you'd have been treading water. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n15/coll01_.html biography When Raymond Williams died suddenly, aged 66, in January 1988, estimations of him were sharply divided. There were those who regarded him as a deservedly influential literary and cultural critic, a major socialist theorist and an exemplary instance of the union of intellectual seriousness and political purpose. There were others who thought he had for too long enjoyed an inflated reputation, that he was a muddy thinker and verbose writer who had been swept to a form of cultural celebrity by the vogue for working-class sentimentalism in the 1960s and lefter-than-thou self-righteousness in the 1970s. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n15/rose01_.html fiction Towards the end of Bernhard Schlink's best-known novel, The Reader, the narrator is pondering his future after taking his state exam in law. He has just seen his former lover, Hanna Schmitz, convicted of war crimes: she had been a concentration camp guard, something he hadn't known when she seduced him as a 15-year-old boy. None of the roles he saw played out in court appeals to him: 'Prosecution seemed to me as grotesque a simplification as defence, and judging was the most grotesque oversimplification of all.' He has lost his belief in post-Enlightenment law as enacting a gradual but steady progress towards 'greater beauty and truth, rationality and humanity, despite terrible setbacks and retreats'. Now the law seems to him more like Odysseus' journey - a process that endlessly circles back to its original starting point only to set off again. In this reading, the Odyssey is a story of motion, at once successful and futile, driven and without aim: 'What else is the history of law?' http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n15/disk01_.html diaries and memoirs If you set aside the incomparable cruelty and stupidity of human beings, surely our most persistent and irrational activity is to sleep. Why would we ever allow ourselves to drop off if sleeping was entirely optional? Sleep is such a dangerous place to go to from consciousness: who in their right mind would give up awareness, deprive themselves of control of their senses, volunteer for paralysis, and risk all the terrible things (and worse) that could happen to a person when they're not looking? As chief scientist in charge of making the world a better place, once I'd found a way of making men give birth, or at least lactate, I'd devote myself to abolishing the need for sleep. Apart from the dangers of letting your guard down, there's the matter of time. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n15/hard01_.html broadcasting http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n15/camp01_.html architecture http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/letters.html Correspondence The letters page from London Review of Books Volume 30 issue 16 http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n16/contents.html Table of contents Table of contents from London Review of Books Volume 30 issue 16