Of Gold and Iron Masks

Poster design featuring:

 

 1: Mask of Agamemnon  (c. 1550-1500 BC) [1]  

2 The Man in the Iron Mask (1939) [2] 

3: L'homme au masque d'or (2024) [3]

 

 

I. 

 

The death masks of Mycenae are a unique collection of gold funerary masks found on male bodies within a Bronze Age burial site located within the ancient Greek city. They were discovered by German businessman and amateur archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann during an excavation in 1876.   

 

The masks consist of a flat (foil-like) layer of gold that has been hammered into shape and depict faces with distinct features (including stick out ears) chiseled into the metal. 

 

The masks are believed to be fairly faithful representations of the deceased, although there's obviously a degree of artistic license (and idealisation); those who could afford to have such masks made would obviously want to look their best in the circumstances.

 

The most famous of these masks is known as the Mask of Agamemnon, after Schliemann claimed to have discovered the actual burial site of the legendary king of the Acheans from Homer's Iliad. Let's just say that from the very start there were doubts raised as to its authenticity ... [4]    

 

 

II. 

 

Whilst the Mask of Agamemnon certainly played a part in my thinking when I created the image shown as figure 3 above, I was actually more inspired by the story of an unidentified prisoner of the French state during the reign of  Louis Quatorze; a prisoner referred to (in English) as The Man in the Iron Mask ...

Arrested and incarcerated in 1669, the Man in the Iron Mask spent 34 years locked up until his death in the Bastille in 1703. Known by several pseudonyms, his true identity remains a mystery, even though it has been extensively researched and argued over by historians ever since. According to one theory, he may have been the son of Oliver Cromwell. Voltaire believed him to be Louis's illegitimate brother [5].

 

Whoever he was, his ordeal has been the subject of many fictional works, including novels, poems, plays, and films. 

 

Perhaps the best-known of these works is by Alexandre Dumas, although readers whose preference is for American cinema rather than French literature might better recall the 1939 movie directed by James Whale (or indeed the 1998 movie directed by Randall Wallace and starring Leonardo DiCaprio). Both films are what would be termed very loose adaptations of the third part of Le Vicomte de Bragelonne (1847-50) [6].   

 

 

III.

 

Hopefully, in my Man in a Golden Mask collage I have managed to capture something both of the Mycenaean death mask in all its aureate splendour and the close-fitting iron mask as imagined by Dumas in all its horror. 

 

By leaving the eyes open and the mouth exposed, I attempted to show how one who suffers great torment at the hands of others dreams of vengeance and this can often be seen shining in their eyes and smiling on their lips ...           

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The Mask of Agamemnon is currently held by the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, Greece: click here.   

 

[2] A still from the 1939 film The Man in the Iron Mask (dir. James Whale). 

 

[3] Papier collé by Stephen Alexander (2024). 

 

[4] Towards the end of his life, Schliemann accepted doubts as to the mask's true owner. Modern archaeological research suggests that the mask is genuine, but pre-dates the period of the Trojan War by 300–400 years. Other researchers say it may even belong to a much earlier period, c. 2500 BC. 

 

[5] It is thanks to Voltaire that the legend developed that the anonymous prisoner was made to permanently wear an iron mask; as a matter of fact, his face was hidden behind a mask of black velvet and official documents reveal that he was made to wear it only when travelling between prisons after 1687, or when attending prayers within the Bastille in the final years of his incarceration.

 

[6] Le Vicomte de Bragelonne ou Dix ans plus tard is an enormous 2,800 page novel by Alexandre Dumas which was first published in serial form between 1847 and 1850. In most English translations, the 268 chapters are usually divided into three volumes: The Vicomte de Bragelonne (chapters 1-93), Louise de la Vallière (chapters 94-180), and The Man in the Iron Mask (chapters 181-269). 

      Long fascinated by the tale of l'homme au masque de fer, Dumas portrays the prisoner as Louis XIV's identical twin. 

 

Starving for Perfection: On the Thinspirational Figure of Karen Carpenter

 Young America at its very best ...

 Karen Carpenter (1950-1983)

 

"Wants to look like a star / but she takes it too far ..." [a]

 

I. 

 

Having recently attended a seminar organised by the Subcultures Interest Group (SIG) at the London College of Communication, where discussion focused on Paul Tornbohm's book on the Carpenters (Sonic Bond Publishing, 2023), I find myself intrigued by the tragic figure of Karen Carpenter. 

 

Not so much her distinctive vocal skills or ability as a drummer, but her will to self-perfection and self-annihilation physically manifested in the form of anorexia; an eating disorder typically found in young women and which, according to Baudrillard, might also be seen as a form of social repulsion; i.e., a means of rejecting a gluttonous and disgusting world of consumption via the ecstasy of emptiness [b]. 

 

George McKay, a professor in media studies at the University of East Anglia, has written on Carpenter, her condition, and its representation in a fascinating 2018 essay which more broadly explores the relation between the anorexic body and popular music, and it's his essay around which I shall centre (a brief) discussion here [c]. 

 

 

II.

 

Drawing on and seeking to develop the work of other commentators concerned with celebrity anorexia, McKay expresses a "critical interest in ways in which the practices and expectations of the music industry set a conformist template of corporeality, particularly for its female stars" [2]. 

 

There's undoubtedly some truth in this idea, though it's not a template that all female artists within the music industry have felt obliged to conform to; one thinks of Big Mama Thornton and Cass Elliot, for example, and I'm pretty sure that even those who set such a template don't expect performers to starve themselves to death; they usually look to protect their investment, even if, in some cases, an untimely death can lead to an increase in record sales [d].  

Whilst it's a little unfair to think of Carpenter as the face of anorexia - she was, after all, one of the great pop voices of the twentieth-century, much admired by her peers and influential on numerous later artists - it was nevertheless her death in 1983 from complications associated with a condition which she began to exhibit symptoms of in 1975 [e], that first brought anorexia into the public arena. 

 

Before then, it was little known outside of showbiz and medical circles and it's for her anorexia that many people remember Karen Carpenter today; particularly those - like me - who are more concerned with matters critical and clinical than (middle of the road) musical.       

 

As McKay notes, anorexia nervosa fascinates because whilst it may be viewed as "a mental health issue leading to or presenting in a diminished corporeality" [4], it can also be regarded as a phenomenon "originating at least in part in the socio-cultural" [4].

 

Its complexity (and ambiguity) doesn't stop there either: as Helen Malson and Jane Ussher have observed, the anorexic body may be "'discursively construed in a multiplicity of often conflicting ways'" [f]. For example, it may "signify both self-production (of idealised body or identity) and self-destruction (symbolically and physically)" [4]. 

 

That's why such a body is often discussed from a political and philosophical perpective; not least of all by feminist authors.

 

 

III.

 

Surprisingly, McKay found fewer than expected mentions or images of Carpenter within the online pro-ana community, where one might have thought she'd have been given special status. He suspects this is because "lyrically there is no obvious mention of eating disorders in the Carpenters' repertoire, not even in song titles" [18]. 

 

Alternatively, it could be because "the music's smoothness is not heard as containing identifiable sonic signifiers of suffering, pain or anger" [18]. In other words, even those who might otherwise acknowledge Karen Carpenter as one of their own find the Carpenters mind numbingly dull.  

Having said that, I think Karen's story is one that should resonate strongly with those who think of anorexia in quasi-religious terms as a spiritual-ascetic practice; those who speak of birds and angels and of the idea that one might take flight if only disciplined enough to achieve purity and perfection in a corrupt and fallen world weighed down by the spirit of gravity [g].

The fact that she died at such a relatively young age - though far too old to join the 27 Club [h] - must surely make Miss Carpenter a martyr-saint in the eyes of those who regard anorexia as a miraculous rather than a nervous condition [i]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Lines from the song 'Never Good Enough' (2006), by Canadian singer-songwriter Rachel Ferguson; a favourite tune with many in the pro-ana community (or subculture): click here. 

 

[b] Long time readers - or those who investigated some of the older posts on TTA - will know that I have previously written with reference to anorexia (at times from a vaguely pro-ana perspective) on several occasions: click here, for example, or here. 

 

[c] George McKay, 'Skinny blues: Karen Carpenter, anorexia nervosa and popular music', Popular Music, Volume 37, Issue 1, (Cambridge University Press, 2018), pp. 1-21. Page references to this essay will be given directly in the post. Click here to access the essay in the UEA digital repository.

 

[d] McKay notes that by exerting constant pressure to look a certain way and perform in a certain manner, the music industry does bear some responsibility for when its young female stars implode. However, it's worth noting that professional dancers and fashion models have much greater pressure exerted on them to be ultra-thin than pop performers; see David M. Garner and Paul E. Garfinkel, 'Socio-cultural factors in the development of anorexia nervosa', in Psychological Medicine, Vol. 10, Issue 4, (1980), pp. 647-656. Cited by McKay.

 

[e] Carpenter had begun dieting at an early age and weighed around 120 pounds in 1973, when the Carpenters were at the peak of their success. By the autumn of 1975, however, she was below the weight that is popularly branded as that of a weakling - i.e., under 98 pounds - and fans were shocked at her gaunt appearance. Carpenter refused to publicly acknowledge that she was suffering with an eating disorder, however, and dismissed concerns about her health and wellbeing. Some might suggest this indicates anosognosia, but McKay argues (2018, 2):

      "Her lack of public utterance on her anorexia, right up to her death, is understandable, given her lonely and vulnerable position as the global star first and most associated with it. However, it is also problematic, not least since it leaves key male figures [including her brother Richard ...] to shape and control her narrative [...]" 

 

[f] See Helen M. Malson and Jane M. Ussher, 'Beyond this mortal coil: femininity, death and discursive constructions of the anorexic body', in Mortality: Promoting the Interdisciplinary Study of Death and Dying, Vol. 2, Issue 1, (1997), pp. 43- 61. Quoted by McKay.     

 

[g] McKay writes (2018, 12): "Karen seemed to be striving for what she thought of as versions of perfection in voice and in body ..." and he reminds us of the following lyric: 'I know I ask perfection of a quite imperfect world' in the song 'I Need to Be in Love', released as a single from the album A Kind of Hush (A&M Records, 1976). 

 

[h] The 27 Club is made up of popular musicians and other artists who died at the age of 27 and includes, for example, Janis Joplin and Amy Winehouse. Karen Carpenter was 32 when she died on 4 February, 1983. 

 

[i] One day, I'll write a post on the holy concept of anorexia mirabilis; an eating disorder common amongst medieval nuns and religiously devoted young women keen to imitate the suffering (and experience the passion) of Christ.  

 

Musical bonus: The Carpenters, '(They Long to Be) Close to You', single release from the studio album Close to You (A&M Records, 1970): click here for the official video on YouTube courtesy of Warner Music Videos. 

 

In Memory of Maggie Smith (1934 - 2024)

Maggie Smith in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie 

(dir. Ronald Neame, 1969)

 

 

I've never seen any of the Harry Potter films (and don't want to); nor have I ever watched the period drama Downtown Abbey on TV. 

But I have watched - on numerous occasions - The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969), starring Maggie Smith in the title role as a teacher at an Edinburgh girls' school (Marcia Blaine); a role for which she won the Oscar for best actress at the Academy Awards in 1970. 

It's certainly one of my favourite films [1] - written by the American screenwriter Jay Presson Allen, based on her own stage play adaptation of Muriel Spark's 1961 novel - and I absolutely adore Smith as the dangerous and stylish Miss Brodie (so much so, that one can almost - almost - overlook the latter's political idealism). 

 

The fact that Smith was an Essex girl - but with Scottish-Geordie roots - only increases my affection for her and allows me to imagine a faint level of kinship. And whilst I hate the idea of someone being described as a national treasure, Britain does feel just a wee bit poorer for her passing [2]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] For a list of my favourite films compiled and published in August 2014, click here.  

[2] Smith died peacefully in a Chelsea hospital earlier today, Friday 27 September. She was 89.

 

 

Click here to watch the original trailer for The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969).  

 

 

Give Me Convenience and Give Me Death

The Sarco Pod : every home should have one ...

 

 

I. 

 

Some readers might recall a news story from late 2021 which reported that someone had invented a 3D-printable [1] suicide pod and planned to demonstrate its practical convenience in the picture-postcard setting of Switzerland, where assisted dying or self-determined suicide - like public nudity and prostitution - is perfectly legal [2].     

 

Well, three years later, and I can announce the suicide pod - which is activated from inside and also contains an emergency button just in case the suicidal subject has a last minute change of mind or perhaps feels a tad claustrophobic - has finally had a fully successful first outing ...

 

 

II. 

 

Called the Sarco [3], the futuristic-looking pod works by rapidly increasing nitrogen levels (and thereby reducing oxygen levels), so that the suicidal subject lying snugly inside loses consciousness and dies in under ten minutes (giving them just enough time to count a medium sized flock of sheep if they wish to do so).      

 

Unfortunately, following the event held in a forest in Merishausen - a sparsely populated area on the Swiss-German border - the police moved in and made several arrests on the grounds that the anonymous volunteer - believed to be an American woman in her 60s - had not merely been given assistance in an unregulated manner, but had been incited into taking her own life (one would imagine that's going to be hard to prove in a court of law).

 

Officers also confiscated the Sarco pod - and, amusingly, took the corpse into custody.

 

 

III.

 

Although a German scientist (natch) by the name of Florian Willet - a leading member of the Last Resort [4] - was present at the woman's death, it is unclear whether he was among those arrested. Afterwards, Willet told a Swiss tabloid that the woman had enjoyed einen friedlichen, schnellen und würdigen Tod - which sounds like a bourgeois marketing slogan if ever I heard one! [5]

 

Meanwhile, the Australian inventor of the Sarco, Philip Nitschke, who had watched the woman's death via video link, posted on X that she had passed away - just as she wanted - in a beautiful forest and described her death as idyllic (i.e., picture-perfect).  

 

Before entering the Sarco Pod, the woman made a statement to her lawyer - who just so happens to be a director of the Last Resort and married to the good doctor Nitschke - that she was of sound mind; but do people ever know quite how how sane or crazy they are?

 

She also had the full support of her family, who doubtless acted with good intentions (and besides, it's certainly easier to pop mom in a pod than to provide palliative care).

 

Notes

 

[1] The capsule's Australian inventor Philip Nitschke - known by his critics as Dr. Death - doesn't plan to manufacture and sell his machine in the conventional manner. Rather, he intends to make the blueprints freely available online so anyone can download the design and, if they have a 3D-printer, produce their very own model.

 

[2] According to a government website, Swiss law allows assisted suicide as long as the person takes his or her life with no 'external assistance' and those who help the person die do not do so for 'any self-serving motive'.  

 

[3] This is obviously short for sarcophagus, which, as Síomón Solomon reminds us, is a term with a fascinating etymology that leads towards a dark poetry concerned with flesh eating stone and biting humour (or sarcasm). 

      In an email, Solomon also notes how on the side of the Sarco Pod is a quote from Carl Sagan, the US astronomer - We are made of star stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself - obliging him to ask whether the manufacturer is "purporting to create some kind of death-vessel for cosmic self-consciousness".   

 

[4] The Last Resort are the Swiss branch of Exit International, a nonprofit organisation founded by Philip Nitschke that lobbies for the legalisation of assisted suicide. As far as I know, they have nothing to do with the notorious East End skinhead shop or the English punk band formed in 1980.

[5] Personally, as one who plans on leaping into an active volcano when the time comes to do so, I'm not particularly concerned with the bourgeois ideal of having a peaceful and dignified death. Having violently entered the world with tears, I'm prepared to violently exit screaming.     

Reflections on Stephen Alexander's 'Lascivious' (1985) - A Guest Post by Sally Guaragna

 

Fig. 1: Stephen Alexander: Lascivious

 Oil on canvas (c. 1985) 

 

 

Stephen Alexander's aureate canvas entitled Lascivious depicting a rather shy and youthful-looking faun sharing a coital embrace with a flame-haired and sexually more experienced nymph, is, sadly, lost to the world: destroyed by the artist's sister in an act of malice that displayed sororal spite, philistine contempt for culture, and a previously unsuspected streak of puritanism [1]. 

 

The painting, which, as the title indicates, is essentially a reimagining of one of Agostino Carracci's erotic prints (c. 1590-95) [2], also betrays the influence of Van Gogh with its dynamic starry night sky and use of warm, radiant golden-yellow [3] (Alexander was at the time an avid reader of the Dutch artist's letters and kept a postcard featuring Vincent's self-portrait with a bandaged ear by his bedside). 

 

We also discover something of D. H. Lawrence's painting style in Alexander's canvas; see for example Lawrence's Fauns and Nymphs (1927) which features a golden-brown satyr embracing a large-breasted sun-nymph; and see also Lawrence's 1928 painting entitled Close-Up (Kiss), which may have influenced Alexander's compositional decision to simply produce a headshot of his mythological lovers (as well as the picture's golden-yellow colouring). 

 

Like Lawrence, Alexander seems primarily concerned with the invisible forces of desire that work upon the flesh and distort and deform bodies, caring little for anatomical fidelity. Deleuze terms such an art of sensation - an art that is neither representational nor symbolist.  

 

Lascivious is not, therefore, the work of an innocent Sunday painter; it's a philosophical gesture born of Alexander's libidinally material - essentially pagan - worldview. Very deliberately and with joy - though perhaps not with great subtlety or success - he promotes a Lawrentian concept of phallic tenderness in a manner that is not so much all'antica (despite the mythological theme) as très moderne.

 

Figs. 2-4

For details see note [4] below. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The digial image shown here is taken from a photo of the painting in the artist's possession.

 

[2] Agostino Carracci (1557-1602) was an Italian artist recognised internationally as one of the finest engravers of his time. 

      Between 1590-1595, he produced a financially rewarding series of fifteen erotic works known as the Lascivie, inspired by a notorious earlier set of prints known as I modi (c. 1524-27) engraved by Marcantonio, after drawings by Giulio Romano and illustrating various sexual acts and positions.

      Whilst enhancing his reputation amongst wealthy collectors of such works, Carracci's prints elicited censure from the Church which inveighed against works of an openly sexual nature even when they were given a mytho-classical veneer in an attempt to make them appear less salacious and the men who took pleasure in contemplating the images seem cultured rather than just pervy.

 

[3] Alexander discusses his love for the colour yellow (with reference to the works of Van Gogh) in a post on Torpedo the Ark entitled 'How Beautiful Yellow Is' (1 May 2024): click here.

 

[4] Fig. 2: Agostino Carracci, A Satyr and Nymph Embracing, print from an engraving (150 x 102 mm), British Museum, London. One of fifteen in the series Lascivie (c. 1590-95).

      Fig. 3: D. H. Lawrence, detail from Fauns and Nymphs (1927), oil on canvas (95 x 80 cm). 

      Fig. 4: D. H. Lawrence, Close-Up (Kiss) (1928), oil on canvas (45 x 37.5 cm). 

 

Art critic Sally Guaragna has written two other posts for Torpedo the Ark. Click here to read  Reflections on Stephen Alexander's 'When the Moon Hits Your Eye' (5 May 2023) and/or here to read Reflections on Stephen Alexander's 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' (6 August 2024). 

Bring Me the Head of Oscar Wilde

Visualisation of how Eduardo Paolozzi's Oscar Wilde 

sculpture will look when installed in Chelsea

The Paolozzi Foundation

 

 

A new sculpture of Oscar Wilde - or, more precisely, of the Irish playwright's head cast in black bronze, lying on its side and sliced into segments - has been condemned by his grandson, Merlin Holland, on the grounds that it fails to adequately convey Wilde's genius and is, from a purely aesthetic perspective, absolutely hideous (his words, not mine) [1].      

 

I have to say, Holland's criticism of the work, which is based on a maquette by the late Eduardo Paolozzi [2] - one of the most seminal British artists of the post-war era and a pioneer of Pop Art - seems rather ridiculous. And the fact that he should describe the work as unacceptable is troubling.

 

Holland may know more about his grandfather, whose life he has researched and written about extensively, than anybody else, but he has failed to appreciate that Paolozzi's cubo-surrealist sculpture is not meant to be a lifelike representation, nor is it attempting to capture Wilde's joie de vivre. 

 

Actually, the piece is very much in line with other sculptural works by Paolozzi; see for example his piece entitled The Head of Invention (1989), located at the entrance of the Design Museum in Kensington - click here - and if one were to criticise the Wilde sculpture it would be on the grounds that one has seen this kind of thing before.         

 

In sum: it lacks uniqueness, but it's not gloomy or hideous and it's certainly better than the hilariously bad memorial statue of Wilde by Danny Osborne located in Dubin's Merrion Square - click here - though not as challenging as Maggi Hambling's A Conversation with Oscar Wilde (1998), which can be found off the Strand in London, in which the playwright rises from the dead, cigarette in hand: click here.    

If Paolozzi's work tells us more about him than it does Wilde - and I admit it probably does - I can see this might be an issue for some, including Wilde's grandson. But that doesn't trouble me as an admirer of both men and, besides, our task ultimately is to learn to appreciate the piece as an object in its own right and not as something tied to a human subject.     

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm quoting from the article by Dalya Alberge entitled '"Absolutely hideous": new London sculpture of Oscar Wilde condemned by his grandson', in The Guardian (21 September 2024): click here. 

 

[2] In 1995, Paolozzi along with eleven other invited artists submitted a design for a statue of Oscar Wilde to a committee chaired by Sir Jeremy Isaacs. The committee, of which Merlin Holland was a member, eventually shortlisted six candidates, including Paolozzi, and requested they create maquettes (i.e., scale models). Ultimately, Paolozzi's design was rejected as too brutalist and the committee chose Maggi Hambling's more playful (if somewhat macabre) sculpture. 

 

D. H. Lawrence and a Tale of Two Parliamentarians

D. H. Lawrence - Sir W. Joynson-Hicks - Lee Anderson

 

 

I have to confess, I was surprised to hear Lee Anderson mention the name of D. H. Lawrence in his speech to the Reform UK National Conference at the NEC in Birmingham yesterday ...

 

I know the MP for Ashfield is from the same neck of the woods and has a similar working-class coal mining background as Lawrence, but, even so, I was not expecting to hear England's most controversial author of the early twentieth-century namechecked by someone once described by the Daily Mirror as the worst man in Britain. 

 

Celebrating English culture, Anderson arguably revealed his Romantic nature by referring not only to Lawrence, but also to Wordsworth, Keats, and Byron [1]. Just how familiar he is with these writers I don't know; although in his maiden speech to parliament in January 2020 Anderson did claim to have read Lady Chatterley's Lover several times [2]. 

 

It might also be noted that, the following year, Anderson stood up in the Commons to thank the Government for the extra funding they had given to the D. H. Lawrence Centre in Eastwood and to ask whether the Secretary of State would support his bid to get a Lawrence statue erected in Eastwood in order to celebrate the author's life and works [3].     

 

Times have certainly changed: a 100 years ago Tory members of parliament such as Sir William Joynson-Hicks were openly calling for the censorship and destruction of Lawrence's work ...

 

 

II. 

 

Best known as a long-serving and controversial Home Secretary in Stanley Baldwin's Second Government (1924-29), Joynson-Hicks (or Jix, as he was called) gained a reputation for moral authoritarianism. Not only did he clamp down on nightlife, but he vigorously opposed what he regarded as indecent literature. This included, for example, Radclyffe Hall's The Well of Loneliness and Lady Chatterley's Lover. 

 

Postal workers - acting under instruction from Scotland Yard and the Home Office - intercepted copies of the latter being sent into Britain from Florence (where the book had been privately printed). Even more outrageously, the Postmaster General also opened another parcel which Lawrence had sent (by registered post) to the London office of his literary agent, containing two typescripts of a collection of poems entitled Pansies. 

 

The typescripts, confiscated (and eventually destroyed) on the grounds of indecency, gave Joynson-Hicks another chance to attack Lawrence in parliament as part of a relentless secret war waged by the authorities against Lawrence since 1915 and publication of arguably his greatest novel The Rainbow [4]. 

 

Lawrence was understandably enraged by this. However, despite being mortally ill in late 1929, he summoned the strength to go on the attack: "the Pansies seizure inspired him to keep up his campaign against hypocrisy and censorship" [5], memorably describing Jix as a censor-moron and a "miserable mongrel" [6].

 

One can't help wondering what he'd think of Lee Anderson and whether or not he too deserves to be thrown down a well of loneliness ...

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Anderson's list of a dozen British literary greats seemed somewhat random and lacked chronological consistency. It ran in full: D. H. Lawrence, Wordsworth, Keats, Byron, Shakespeare, Dickens, Tolkien, Orwell, Jane Austen, Ian Fleming, C. S. Lewis, and George Eliot. 

[2] For those who are interested, the text of Anderson's maiden speech in the House of Commons (27 Jan 2020) can be read by clicking here. 

      Anderson is mistaken to say that Lawrence wrote Lady Chatterley's Lover in his home region - he wrote it in Italy - although it is based in and around the village of Teversal. Lawrence had made his final visit to what he called the country of [his] heart shortly before he began work on the first version of his novel in the autumn of 1926, so he was certainly in the process of assembling ideas.  

[3] Anderson's contribution to parliamentary debate on 16 September 2021 can be found in Hansard: click here. According to Nigel Huddleston - the then Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport, who responded to Anderson's request - there were "many D. H. Lawrence fans" in the House - which, if true, is another great surprise to me.  

 

[4] Readers who think this sounds overly-dramatic might like to see Alan Travis, 'The hounding of DH Lawrence', in The Guardian (10 April 1999): click here. 

      The key point is Joynson-Hicks misled his fellow MPs when he informed the House of Commons that the package containing Lawrence's typescripts had been sent via the 'open book post' and had been subject to a random search to ensure the contents had been charged at the correct rate, when, in fact, it had been registered and Lawrence's mail was routinely checked as part of a long-running police surveillance operation. 

 

[5] John Worthen, D. H. Lawrence: The Life of an Outsider (Allen Lane, 2005), p. 389.

    

[6] D. H. Lawrence, letter to Juliette Huxley [12 January 1929], The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. VII, ed. Keith Sagar and James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 132. 

 

 

Memories of Autumn '84: At the Races

Myself and Mr Field pictured at the Charisma Gold Cup 

(20 October 1984)

 

 

Entry based on The Von Hell Diaries: Saturday 20 October 1984

 

I can't honestly say I'm a fan of horse racing: it may be the sport of kings, but it's not the sport of punks. 

 

Nevertheless, it was the Charisma Gold Cup [1] and so I headed off with my becaped friend Mr Field [2] to the races at Kempton Park wearing a top hat and a new tartan winter coat. Decided also to wear clown-white face makeup just to amuse the punters.  

Bumped into Holly and Chief [3] at Richmond station. The latter really looked the part: unfortunately, the insider's tip that he gave me turned out to be a less than winning piece of information. But, as he explained when the horse finally trotted over the line, there's no such thing as a cert.

Steve Weltman [4] was also dressed to the nines, but he looked a little stiff and uncomfortable. Amusingly, he wouldn't speak with me and Kirk and I don't think he even wanted to be seen with us. And so we headed to the enclosure area where we had drinks with Roddy Forrest [5] and flirted with his very attractive wife, Fiona, who seemed like a lot of fun (and an Aquarian too).  

 

Lamb chops for lunch - and lots of wine (drunk straight from the bottle). Didn't meet any actual jockeys, but the Radio 1 disc jockey Mike Read was hanging around looking a bit twatish.  

 

Afterwards, whilst Kirk got into an argument with a drunken Tory MP, I met a woman wearing a very nice white jacket and red stockings who insisted on giving me a hug and a kiss and even slipped me her phone number before leaving with her ex-boyfriend (who I believe was Glen Colson) [6]. 

 

 

        

Notes

 

[1] Sponsored by Charisma Records, the Charisma Gold Cup was a three-mile handicap chase and formed the centrepiece of Kempton's opening jumps fixture. The race continued after Virgin acquired Charisma (in 1983) and was run in Tony Stratton Smith's memory following his death (in 1987) for several years. 

 

[2] I have mentioned my friend Kirk Field in several posts on Torpedo the Ark: click here. 

 

[3] Holly Fogg was the Charisma Records secretary; Chief was the Charisma fixer who used to operate out of the mail room at 90, Wardour Street. 

[4] Steve Weltman was the MD at Charisma Records.

 

[5] Roddy Forrest was the product manager at Charisma Records.  

 

[6] Glen Colson was an interesting figure working within the music business for many years. I might be mistaken, but I think the young woman in the red stockings was Gillian Gould.  

Bits

The Bulletin Vol. 43 No 2217 (10 August, 1922) [a] 

Metro (16 September, 2024)

 

 

I. 

 

Although D. H. Lawrence's Australian novel, Kangaroo (1923), is little remembered today outside of certain red-bearded circles, it was critically well-received at the time (perhaps less for its philosophy and more for its descriptions of the bush). 

 

One of the things I admire about it, however, is Lawrence's use of actual text drawn from a popular weekly news magazine; namely, the Sydney Bulletin - "the only periodical in the world that really amused" [b] the novel's protagonist Richard Somers:

 

"The horrible stuffiness of English newspapers he could not stand: they had the same effect on him as fish-balls in a restaurant, loathsome stuffy fare. [...] But the Bully, even if it was made up all of bits, and had neither head nor tail nor feet nor wings, was still a lively creature. He liked its straightforwardness [...] It beat no solemn drums. It had no deadly earnestness. It was just stoical, and spitefully humorous." [269].

 

Whether we might find the same "laconic courage of experience" [272] in today's edition of the Metro [c] - copies of which are sitting in a pile at the front of the bus - is extremely doubtful I fear ... 

 

 

II. 

 

And, having now flicked through the paper in search of some entertaining snippets - or bits as Lawrence calls the short news items that catch his eye [d] - I can confirm that the Metro is completely devoid of momentaneous life or even vaguely interesting anecdotage, with the single exception being the story of a rat-catcher from Wakefield who recalled once having a client who had a rat living in the wooden slats of his bed and another who was left screaming when she discovered a rat floating in her toilet bowl (only after having already sat down to urinate) [e].

Having said that, I was sorry to read that a fluffy tortoise-shell cat named Rosie - believed to be the world's oldest, aged 33, and living in Norwich with her human companion Lila Brissett - has just died [f].

 

And I would like to send congratulations to a couple in Crewe - Peter and Peggie Taylor - who have been married for 78 years and who have both now celebrated their 100th birthdays [g].  

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Known as the 'bushman's bible', The Bulletin was an Australian weekly magazine based in Sydney and first published in 1880. It featured articles on politics, business, poetry, fiction and humour and exerted significant influence on Australian society and culture, promoting the idea of a national identity distinct from its British colonial origins. The copy shown here, dated 10 August 1922, may have been read by D. H. Lawrence, as he was in Sydney on this date, before departing for San Francisco on the 11th. Readers who are interested, can read this edition of The Bulletin online thanks to the National Library of Australia: click here. 

 

[b] D. H. Lawrence, Kangaroo, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge University Press, 1994), p. 269. Future page references to this work will be given directly in the post. 

      As Bruce Steele notes in his Introduction to Kangaroo, Lawrence's use of the Bulletin "was not simply as a quarry for verbatim quotation [...] Sometimes he adapted or extrapolated from it [...] He even attributed ideas and views to it" [xxxiv]. 

      Arguably, Lawrence's use of a print publication was the most radical and imaginative since Picasso cut and pasted a piece of Le Journal into his collage Guitar, Sheet Music and Wine Glass (1912); a work widely regarded as the first self-consciously modern artwork to incoporate real newsprint. As Steele concludes, Lawrence seems to have not only been amused by the Bulletin - including its cartoons and advertisements - but found it a "productive source of idiom as of fact" [xxxv], giving a certain authenticity to his novel. 

      Finally, readers might also be reminded that earlier in chapter VIII of Kangaroo Lawrence incorporates an "almost thrilling bit of journalism" [168] by A. Meston from the Sydney Daily Telegraph virtually in full - something dismissed as padding by critics of the novel. Such criticism, however, is dealt with by John B. Humma in his excellent reading (and defence) of Kangaroo. See 'Of Bits, Beasts, and Bush: The Interior Wilderness in D. H. Lawrence's Kangaroo', in South Atlantic Review, Vol. 51, No. 1 (Jan., 1986), pp. 83-100. Click here to read on JSTOR.     

 

[c] The Metro is the highest-circulation freesheet tabloid newspaper in the UK. It is published in tabloid format by DMG Media and distributed on weekdays.

 

[d] The bits that most fascinated Lawrence were actually contributions from readers of the Bulletin published on a page known as 'Aboriginalities'.  

[e] Danny Rigg reports on the work of professional rat-catcher Keiran Sampler (and his two canine assistants Poppy and Panny) in a story entitled 'It's rat-a-pooy', in today's Metro (16 September, 2024), p.7. Click here to read the story in the e-edition. 

[f] See 'Rest in puss Rosie ... Oldest cat in world dies aged 33', in the Metro (16 September, 2024), p. 9. Click here to read the story in the e-edition. 

 

[g] See Izzy Hawksworth, 'We're both 100 years old and still married after meeting in a bar', in the Metro (16 September, 2024), p. 9. Click here to read the story in the e-edition. 

Is the Pope Lawrentian (or Merely a Heretic)?

Pope Francis wearing a large 

D. H. Lawrence pendant necklace

 

D. H. Lawrence famously declared that there was no real battle between himself and the Catholic Church because, when it came to the religious fundamentals, he was in close accord. Thus, for example, he believes in a single almighty God, in esoteric doctrine, and in the power of a priest who has been initiated into the latter to grant absolution [1].    

 

Having said that, Lawrence also believes that whilst Jesus is undoubtedly a Son of God, he is not, however, the only Son of God - and this, actually, does put him in in direct conflict with the central Christian teaching that acceptance of Christ is the sole means of salvation and knowing God. For as Jesus himself said (according to the Gospel of John):

 

I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me [2].

 

Or at least, this used to be the central teaching - but no longer for Pope Francis, it seems ... For yesterday, the Bishop of Rome concluded his three-day visit to Singapore by declaring that All religions are a path to God [3].

 

Such pluralism makes one wonder whether the Pope is actually a Lawrentian: for like Lawrence, he seems to believe that there are many saviours (with others still to come), so that "the great Church of the future" will recognise that men "are saved variously, in various lands, in various climes, in various centuries" [4]. 

 

I'm not a Catholic, but, if I were, I'd find this pretty outrageous; for here is the visible head of the Church not only calling for interfaith dialogue but essentially saying that not even Jesus can declare himself to be the way for all men and that - to paraphrase Lawrence - it is disastrous for any religion to assert itself above all others. 

 

That's heresy, is it not? 

 

Of course, the present Pope has a record for this kind of thing; even lending his support in 2019 to the placing of a South American pagan idol inside a church in Rome [5], and so I suppose nothing should surprise us. 

 

As I'm not a Catholic or a Christian of any other kind, however, this isn't really a great concern to me. Indeed, as a reader of Lawrence, I'm inclined to agree with Ramón, that every people should "'substantiate their own mysteries'" [6] and "'speak with the tongues of their own blood'" [7].

     

 

Notes

 

[1] See D. H. Lawrence, 'There is no real battle ...', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert (Cambridge University Press, 1988), Appendix I: Fragmentary writings, p. 385.

 

[2] John 14:6 (KJV). 

 

[3]  The Pope was quoted in the article 'All faiths lead to God: New controversy as Pope preaches religious pluralism on final day of tour', in The Catholic Herald (13 September 13, 2024): click here. 

[4] D. H. Lawrence, 'There is no real battle ...', Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, p. 385.

 

[5] See the post entitled 'On the Desecration of Altars and the Return of Strange Idols' (25 October 2019): click here.  

[6] D. H. Lawrence, The Plumed Serpent, ed. L. D. Clark (Cambridge University Press, 1987), p. 427.

[7] Ibid., p. 248.