History repeating

W. Kasper comes to that inevitable point in the rock critic’s lifecycle that he has to bemoan the kids today:

The most interesting, fruitful aspect of British pop in the 90s was when it was, well, mixed race; if not physically at least sonically. Any innovations (however minor), and the sense that you were hearing something said differently, was related to this (Two Tone had a more important social impact than punk: discuss). Considering this, Britpop was even more hideously reactionary than many assume, which may be why Gorrilaz are more listenable and inoffensive (in a good sense) than Blur. The chronic social/racial stratification of British pop (since the end of the 90s) sealed the lid on its coffin as anything relevant. If experience is anything to go by, ‘the kids’ are now more starkly divided into ‘indie’ (white) or ‘urban’ (black), with all the class division that implies.

Really? I’m not sure this last complaint is a) true or b) different from any other point in British pop history. 2-Tone was only a blip and its most succesful band, Madness, wasn’t all that multiracial. If you look at it from far away British pop has always been about a few pioneers getting inspired (stealing) Black music and making it palatable to a white audience, followed by a backlash as it all becomes a bit too mixed: hence Oasis, or a few years earlier, The Smiths, or even earlier The Kinks: all self-consciously English bands as response to a pop culture that had become too un-English, too American and too dancable. Crossover has always been more rare than coexistence, yet the reality of most people’s musical experience is much more pick ‘n mix than their self indentification as “indie” or “urban” suggests.

The Gollancz fifty

This year it will be fifty years since Gollancz started publishing science fiction and fantasy. To celebrate the publisher set up a website listing its fifty best science fiction and fantasy novels (or at least the ones it still has the rights to) and is asking us, their readers to chose our favourites out of these. Twentyfive science fiction and twentyfive fantasy novels are listed and you get to choose one of each. The top five choices will be published in a special “collectable retro-look edition”. A nice idea to celebrate a very important British science fiction and fantasy publisher. I can’t be the only fan who quickly learned to associate yellow covers in the library’s bookcases with proper science fiction….

Given that these lists had to be created out of the books Gollancz still had the rights to, they’re somewhat biased towards contemporary authors, but unfortunatly also heavily biased towards male authors: of the twentyfive science fiction novels, only two are by women. The fantasy list is slightly more balanced, but still only has five novels written by women. Both lists are also very white and anglosaxon. Of course you can argue that given the constraints of having to work from their own backlist meant that these lists would always be imbalanced, but than that only moves the argument to why Gollancz hasn’t had a more diverse publishing list in these fifty years…

Apart from that, these lists are a good excuse to play the usual “bold if you’ve read it, italicise if you own it” game. First the science fiction list, which seems to be the stronger of the two and from which I’ve certainly read the most. On the downside, there are no real surprises in this list either: a mix of obvious classics always present in these lists and contemporary bestselling authors. Many of these books have had special editions recently as well, e.g. in the Science Fiction Masterworks series. Which probably explains why I read so many of them…

  • A Case of Conscience by James Blish
  • Altered Carbon by Richard Morgan
  • Brasyl by Ian McDonald
  • The Dispossessed by Ursula Le Guin
  • Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick
  • Dune by Frank Herbert
  • Fairyland by Paul McAuley
  • The Female Man by Joanna Russ
  • The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
  • Flood by Stephen Baxter
  • Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
  • Gateway by Frederik Pohl
  • Hyperion by Dan Simmons
  • Last and First Men by Olaf Stapledon
  • More than Human by Theodore Sturgeon
  • Pavane by Keith Roberts
  • Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke
  • Revelation Space by Alastair Reynolds
  • Ringworld by Larry Niven
  • Stand on Zanzibar by John Brunner
  • Tau Zero by Poul Anderson
  • The Time Machine by H. G. Wells
  • The Separation by Christopher Priest
  • The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester
  • Yellow Blue Tibia by Adam Roberts

The fantasy list seems to be more heavily biased towards contemporary books, with some odd choices: the complete Book of the New Sun but Stephen R. Donaldson is represented by the first book of the third trilogy in the Thomas Covenant series? Why Eric of all Discworld novels?

  • Beauty by Sheri S. Tepper
  • Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie
  • Book of the New Sun (Vol 1&2) (Vol 3&4) by Gene Wolfe
  • The Book of Skulls by Robert Silverberg
  • Conan Volume One by Robert E. Howard
  • Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris
  • Elric by Michael Moorcock
  • Eric by Terry Pratchett
  • Fevre Dream by George R. R. Martin
  • The Final Empire by Brandon Sanderson
  • The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
  • Graceling by Kristin Cashore
  • Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill
  • I Am Legend by Richard Matheson
  • The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch
  • Little, Big by John Crowley
  • Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees
  • Memoirs of a Master Forger by William Heaney
  • Mythago Wood by Robert Holdstock
  • The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss
  • The Runes of the Earth by Stephen Donaldson
  • Something Wicked this Way Comes by Ray Bradbury
  • Tales of the Dying Earth by Jack Vance
  • Viriconium by M. John Harrison
  • Wolfsangel by M. D. Lachlan

I’m not sure which books of either list I’d choose as my favourite, but I’d think in the end I’d go for Stand on Zanzibar and Mythago Wood, both books by British writers who died too soon and who deserve a bit more attention.

It’s just not an English murder with a Black victim

Midsomer Murders creator explains why he wants to keep his murders white:

The ITV1 detective show, which has run for 14 series, ‘wouldn’t work’ if there was any racial diversity in it, producer True-May said.

‘We’re the last bastion of Englishness and I want to keep it that way,’ he told Radio Times.

He insisted he had never been tackled before about the ‘whites only’ rule in the show, which stars John Nettles as Det Ch Insp Tom Barnaby.

He said: ‘I’ve never been picked up on that but quite honestly I wouldn’t want to change it.

‘We just don’t have ethnic minorities involved. Because it wouldn’t be the English village with them. It just wouldn’t work.

‘Suddenly we might be in Slough. Ironically, Causton (one of the main centres of population in the show) is supposed to be Slough. And if you went into Slough you wouldn’t see a white face there.’

Racist, obnoxious, outrageous, call it what you want, but it’s the creative bankruptcy of his statement that explains why I’ve never watched a full eposde of Midsomer Murders. As if you can’t get that specific brand of sophorific excitement with the occasional Black or Asian face, as if the cozy menace can’t be created without some pasty white 1930ties England that never was.

Gorey unclaimed by comics or were its claims rejected?

Tom Spurgeon is disappointed no comics creators were present in a NYT article about Edward Gorey:

That’s what it seems like reading this New York Times profile of Edward Gorey, anyway, as authors and designers line up to claim his influence, without a cartoonist in sight. I’ve said this before, but it intrigues me that someone whose major works embody both the Scott McCloud (sequential narrative) and RC Harvey (verbal/visual blend) definitions of comics gets so little mention by and, actually, seems to have little direct influence within, the medium in which he seems to have worked.

I wonder if this is an example of comics not claiming its own, or more a case of the NYT not letting cartoonists in to the party. Neil Gaiman is quoted, but only as the author of Coraline, not for his comics work, which has its Gorey influences as well. More generally, with a respectable cartoonist like Gorey, there is as much a tendency for the wider art world to seperate him from his comics context is as there sometimes is for the comics world to disown him. It’s a pattern we’ve seen time and again, with people like Gorey, Al Hirschfeld or Charles Addams, or even Art Spiegelman with Maus.

Obsolete ideas about high brow art versus low brow commercial product still determines the framework in which we think about comics and individual cartoonists. From a comics theory point of view whether a cartoonist’s work is published in in the New Yorker or Action Comics might not matter, but in practise it does reflect on how people percieve him: as a caricaturist/social commentator working in a highly respected tradition of satirical drawing dating back to at least the 18th century or as just another hack doing work for a medium held in contempt almost from its inception. Consciously or unconsciously, this sort of consideration will have helped shaped that NYT profile. Because Gorey was published in respectable, high art venues, the sort of people that will be asked to provide quotes for this profile will be novelists and film makers rather than cartoonists.

At the same time, with creators that do manage to break out of the comics ghetto something more insidious happens. From Spiegelman onwards, what you see is that their work is decontextualised, treated as a singular occurrence rather than as a work of art which is part of a wider tradition. Again, this is not necessarily done consciously, but just part and parcel to the way in which the respectable media ignore the low rent comic book. That usually, something like Maus or Fun Home is respected more for its subject matter than its strengths as a comic.

The unbearably whiteness of British literature

The 12 best new novelists look frighteningly white

The BBC is doing another of its tedious “reading is cool and hip and you should read more too or at least watch our programmes about books” promotions. In the process The Culture Show also chose its top twelve new writers and, well, there’s something off about them. It’s not just the facepalmingly awfulness of how the chair of the jury describes what literary fiction is in The Guardian:

What is literary fiction? It is not genre fiction. Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall is a historical novel. Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go was shortlisted for the Arthur C Clarke Award, the leading British prize for science fiction. Yet you only have to think about these two examples to see how they escape their genres. Mantel’s novel revisits the favourite stamping ground of historical fiction – Henry VIII and his wives – in order to rethink what it might be to see events filtered through the consciousness of a person from a distant age. Ishiguro takes a dystopian hypothesis – human clones being bred for their organs – and then declines to put in place any of the sci-fi framework that would allow us to understand how this could be. Indeed, the whole interest of his story is in the limits placed upon its narrator. These are both “literary” novels because they ask us to attend to the manner of their telling. And, despite their narrative demands, they have both found hundreds of thousands of readers willing to do so.

But well, doesn’t that group of up and coming literary fiction writers look a bit white to you? Granted, they all look awfully middle class as well, but BBC and Guardian, so let it go. Is the state of literature in Britain so bad that no promising writer of colour could be found?

(Found via BLCKDGRD.)