Author Archives: Natalie Bennett

An excellent half of a play

There’s a lot to praise about 412 Letters, the inaugural production of the play by Matthew Wilkie that opened tonight at the Union Theatre in Southwark.

There’s an affectionate, sparky chemistry between its two actresses, Emma Field-Rayner, who plays Ros, the uptight, respectably middle-class, high-flying PR executive, and Louise Kempton, who’s Charlotte, the working class, mixed-up but determined would-be writer.

The script is beautifully structured around the letters the two have exchanged – letters written primarily by Ros, that Charlotte has appropriated for her latest attempt to write the Great British Novel. We jump back and forth through time, as the carefully catalogued sheets reveal how the two met – Charlotte was the drummer in a band booed off-stage, who typically decided to take on the whole abusive audience with her fists, and came out worst from the deal – and how their relationship developed, then imploded.

The repartee is fast and witty, even if the roles the two play – Ros the grown-up, bossy organiser, Charlotte, the rebellion child, are, except for the lesbian nature of their relationship, already widely explored, perhaps to the point of cliche.

“I need closure,” Ros exclaims.
“Do I look like a fucking door?” Charlotte replies.

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Two in the eye in the fundamentalists

After the discovery of the “missing link” fish/amphibian yesterday, today it is the unveiling of the Gospel of Judas:

The Gospel of Judas, a fragile clutch of a leather-bound papyrus thought to have been inscribed in about AD300…
According to this version of events, not only was Judas obeying orders when he handed Jesus to his persecutors, he was Christ’s most trusted disciple, singled out to receive mystical knowledge.
According to the 26-page gospel, copied in the ancient Coptic language apparently from a Greek original more than a hundred years older, Jesus told Judas: “Step away from the others and I shall tell you the mysteries of the kingdom. It is possible for you to reach it, but you will grieve a great deal.”

Scholars are saying it doesn’t reveal anything fundamental that wasn’t already known about the gnostics (about whom I’ve written here and here), but it is a nice reminder that the whole idea of the Bible as a single, unchanging document, set in stone, is utterly ridiculous – a bit of a problem for the fundamentalists.
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Simon Jenkins in the Guardian today is getting stuck into modernist architect. That left me looking out my Sixties tower block window (and a very nice, practical, well laid-out, light and airy flat) it is too, wondering if the fault on “failed estates” really is with the architecture, or with the lack of investment in maintenance, services etc? I tend towards the latter view.

Perhaps some of the huge estates, with their linked walkways, as seen for example in east London, do by their nature create problems, but to sweep up all modernist architecture in that seems a bit harsh.
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The Tories have decided that prison doesn’t work and the solution lies in rehabilitation not punishment. Meanwhile Labour keeps locking more and more people up without making any provision for their rehabilitation. It is getting to be a funny old political world.

One figure of note from that article: 2 per cent of the prison budget is spent on education – TWO PER CENT! No wonder the recidivism rate is awful.

A sceptical view of Sir Walter Scott

My 19th-century retroblogger Frances Williams Wynn is again telling tales of Sir Walter Scott, for whom I suspect she has a soft spot, although she’s again displaying her sceptical streak in questioning whether his apparent sang froid in the face of royalty was anything more than the calm of a practiced performer …

My uncle mentioned this as an extraordinary feat of self-possession and ready wit. I am certainly not inclined to doubt the extraordinary talents of Scott, but in this instance many circumstances appear to me to diminish the wonder. The trade of Scott in his character of London and Edinburgh lion was as decidedly at that period that of a teller of stories as it has since been that of a writer of novels. The tales had probably been told a hundred times, and on this occasion his friend Mrs. Hayman, I doubt not, gave him a previous hint of what would, be asked from him.

Elsewhere in the diaries, she heard him telling traditional stories.

If you are a chicken, be a bit worried

… if you’re a human, just snort with annoyance at the hysteria over bird flu. It is the only symptom you are likely to see, unless you are in the habit of rooting in the entrails of dead birds in the park, or collecting guano for garden fertiliser, in which case it would probably be a good idea to stop. Yes, I am very fed up with bird flu stories already, and there’ll be days and days and days of it yet…

Meanwhile, the government is destroying civil liberties and centuries of checks and balances in government, as neatly laid out by Jenni Russell in the Guardian:

The government is briskly and fundamentally reshaping the relationship of the individual to the state, of the Lords to the Commons, and of MPs to ministers. The ID cards bill will allow the authorities unprecedented surveillance of our lives, and the power to curtail our ordinary activities by withdrawing that card. The legislative and regulatory reform bill, now entering its final stages, will let ministers alter laws by order, rather than having to argue their case in parliament. Then this weekend brought another shocking government proposal to increase its own power and weaken the restraints upon it. Lord Falconer made clear that the government intends to drastically curtail the powers of the Lords. The current convention is that peers cannot block any legislation contained in a party’s manifesto. In future peers will have to pass any legislation that the government deems important, whether it was in the manifesto or not. They will effectively be neutered.

Now that really is something to get hysterical about.

And to demonstrate what these sorts of things mean in practice, two Yorkshire grandmothers face up to a year in jail for taking a walk:

Helen John, 68, and Sylvia Boyes, 62, both veterans of the Greenham Common protests 25 years ago, were arrested on Saturday after deliberately setting out to highlight a change in the law which civil liberties groups say will criminalise free speech and further undermine the right to peaceful demonstration.
Under the little-noticed legislation, which came into effect last week, protesters who breach any one of 10 military bases across Britain will be treated as potential terrorists and face up to a year in jail or £5,000 fine. The protests are curtailed under the Home Secretary’s Serious Organised Crime and Police Act.

Finally the good news, the discovery of the missing link between fish and land creatures. The Guardian is hopeful that this will be a blow to the proponents of “intelligent design”, but that of course presumes that their views have anything to do with evidence, which sadly I doubt.

The Carnival of Feminists No XII …

… is now up on Written World, and it takes the event to a whole new world. Ragnell stepped aside to allow a woman from another planet, indeed perhaps another universe, to run the show – Star Sapphire, “Sovereign of the Planet Zamaron, President of Ferris Aircraft, Super-Villainess, Much Maligned Strawfeminist, Recurring Green Lantern Antagonist, the Killer of Katma Tui”. From that, you might gather, this is a carnival unlike any that has been before.

Despite her “foreign” origins, Star Sapphire is up with all of the latest feminist issues, from the Duke rape case to women in Zambia stepping into politics, but you’ll also find a feminist analysis of topics that mightn’t usually jump to your attention, from the hair colour of cartoon characters to the models they provide for young girls.

Please help to spread the word!

Returning to 1982

Plastic Zion, which has just opened at the White Bear, was written in 1982, and is very much an artefact of that time, featuring a representative subset of the angry, disillusioned youth of Thatcher’s Britain, and their music.

At the centre of this discordant little group, transplanted by some unfortunate attempt to experience kulture to an abandoned cafe in backwoods France, is the working-class lad made rock star hero Clem (Nigel Croft-Adams) and his middle-class rebel, self-mutilating, self-hating, girlfriend Josephine (Caroline O’Hara).

Their “groupie” pack – much depleted from Clem’s glory days – consists of his longterm and faithful schoolfriend Yak (Ben Richardson), who’s been unable to imagine a life of his own, and two spongers, the transvestite Carly (Tim McFarland), a petulant, camp imp, and the dim but assertive Dagmar (Minouche Kaftel).

Over the course of a moderately drunken evening they squabble, make-up, and act out all of their anxieties and problems. Yet at the end of it, with the exception of one, perhaps shattering, revelation, they are at the same point as they started.

This is a play that is both better, and worse, than that description suggests. A sketch of the characters suggest stereotypes, and yet the playwright, Chris Ward, makes each of these come alive as real, suffering human beings. READ MORE