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| 1509559116
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| 1509559116
| 3.00
| 5
| Jun 13, 2024
| Jun 13, 2024
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liked it
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This book has an agenda with a capital A. I didn’t realise! I impulse-bought this in a naïve “I want to read a history of British feminism” kind of wa
This book has an agenda with a capital A. I didn’t realise! I impulse-bought this in a naïve “I want to read a history of British feminism” kind of way, without reading any other reviews (it’s brand new), and I thought “Sexed”? What a strange (bad) title. It was a clue but I did not realise. If you skip the introduction and the last chapter anyone could read this short history of British feminism, anyone at all. It’s straightforward, it’s never dull, it races along, it’s solid stuff, just what I wanted. Recommended! But there’s no point in reviewing that part of the book. Susanna is here to talk about the currently residing elephant in the room, that is, the massive ongoing conflict which we have seen engulfing feminism in the last decade or so. On one side is what the author describes as “gender-critical” feminism, which defends “sex-based rights”. This is the side she is on - indeed, this is why she wrote this book. So : what do these feminists want ? They are committed to resist efforts to displace sex and sex discrimination with an alternative set of concepts: gender, gender identity, gender equality, and so on. And she adds : “To an outsider, the difference may seem abstruse. But it is a crucial fault line.” Well, you can say that again. So Susanna’s opponents are “trans-rights activists”. Having said that, I have said enough for many people – they will want to boycott this book and advise everyone else to avoid it like the plague. Susanna says It is perfectly possible to disagree fundamentally with trans activist aims while supporting the right of transgender people to be protected against discrimination. I suspect many people would dispute that. And she freely acknowledges that attacks on trans rights are usually bundled up with the usual rightwing attacks on all minorities. I made pages of notes as I read this book, and I would have written up my usual far-too-long type of review, and discussed all kinds of interesting issues, such as the Contagious Diseases Acts (1864) and why feminists campaigned against them, Margaret Thatcher and why women in the 1980s voted for her, whether capitalism or patriarchy is the real enemy, the struggles of intersectionality, the disturbing story of the Pankhursts, and so on, and so forth – there is enough material in this book for one three times as long. But in the end the extremely contentious arguments about gender, upon which the whole book floats, capsized that idea. Because of these arguments this book will be regarded as a clarion statement of pure common sense by some people and a horrific diatribe to be anathematised by other people. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Jul 2024
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Jul 05, 2024
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Jun 26, 2024
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Hardcover
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| 0300170629
| 9780300170627
| 0300170629
| 4.30
| 254
| Jun 27, 2017
| Jun 27, 2017
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really liked it
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I coveted this big book for months before I got it. I coveted it way more than my neighbour’s ass*. Finally I got it. It’s a slow read, but very good.
I coveted this big book for months before I got it. I coveted it way more than my neighbour’s ass*. Finally I got it. It’s a slow read, but very good. I’ve just read part one so far, and here are the two most interesting things I found. Chapter 1 gives us the best summary of medieval Christianity I have ever come across. So here is a summary of the author’s summary. First, it might be worth stating the obvious here, that in those days no one chose to be a Christian. You automatically were. (Also, no one called themselves Catholics, there was only one type of Christianity.) And here’s the thing – I should say The Thing : as soon as you got born into this world, the major obsession was how to get out of it well, meaning, how to get to heaven and avoid hell. This could be very tricky if you did not follow the rules. Here are the rules. 1. As soon as you are born you must get baptized. Unbaptized infants go to Limbo, not Hell. At first it was thought they did go to hell but although medieval types were pretty cool with all kinds of horrible torture they found the vision of eternally frying babies a bit too much so they came up with Limbo, which is not heaven and not hell, it’s strictly nowhere. This solved another problem – Christians were kind of upset at the idea of good non-Christians being fried eternally too so they figured those also go to Limbo. (Note : I’m surprised there wasn’t more of a protest from traditional Christians in 1962 when Chubby Checker released “Limbo Rock” : “Every limbo boy and girl All around the limbo world Gonna do the limbo rock” – there’s no rocking in Limbo, it’s a non-place. Chubby was theologically way off. ) 2. You must confess your sins but only once a year, so it’s not too much of a drag. The pressure on hard-working priests hearing all those confessions during the same week (Holy Week) “rendered a detailed grilling improbable” as Peter Marshall says, so you didn’t have to go to great lengths remembering all the coveting you did in the previous year. However, mnemonics were available to help really keen people remember all their sins. 3. When you die a priest has to grant you absolution so you can die in a State of Grace but sorry to say that while you can’t proceed without it, absolution doesn’t get you to heaven. No, only saints and martyrs go straight to heaven. You still have to work off the guilt of your accumulated sins so you have to do time in Purgatory. It’s true that you have to contort words and meanings furiously to find the slightest trace of the idea of purgatory in the Bible. But this idea solved another problem. People thought it was really unfair if a nasty murderer got absolution and died in a state of grace and went to heaven in exactly the same way a good nice person would. So the idea was that the murderer would do 50,000 years and the nice person just maybe 4 months or so. 4. Purgatory is not hell, but it’s hell to be there, and the idea is that you’re going to be there for thousands of years as you burn away all your fornications and shoplifting and fiddling of tax returns. Even non-murderers will have to do some significant purging. But take heart, you can do something about it. Before you die, in your will, set aside some cash to pay people to say prayers and masses and add a stained glass window installation here and there for your soul. Depending on the strength and frequency of these prayers & masses, your time in purgatory will be massively reduced. Prayers on earth really affect what happens in the afterlife! I think this was a real spiritual breakthrough – it gave people some hope. Otherwise the afterlife could seem a depressing prospect. So, one really special mass = one thousand years in Purgatory. One pater noster probably = about 5 years. Here’s Paulie Walnuts in The Sopranos figuring out how much time you have to do : You add up all your mortal sins and multiply that number by 50. Then you add up all your venial sins and multiply that by 25. You add that together and that's your sentence. I figure I'm gonna have to do 6,000 years before I get accepted into heaven and 6,000 years is nothin' in eternity terms. I can do that standing on my head. It's like a couple of days here. I don’t think Paulie Walnuts set aside any dough at all for priests to chant masses for his soul so you can see that this part of theology has evolved in the last 500 years, but not that much. I think that many people still think yeah, that’s about how the whole thing works. It’s interesting to note that in the above scheme there is no mention of Jesus. He comes in to the formulas used by the priests in baptism and absolution but an average medieval person would only have a hazy notion of what he was all about. All the services were in Latin. LOLLARDS These were the English heretics who didn’t believe half the things the Church was telling them. Such as that praying to saints was useful, or that going on a pilgrimage was a good thing, or that relics (like a fragment of the fingernail of St Simeon etc etc) were fakes, and especially, that during the Mass the bread and wine did NOT transubstantiate and become the actual body and blood of Christ. Wow, the Church was very prickly on that point and wanted to burn alive all disbelievers in this most bizarre idea. Etymological notes: Limbo is from the Latin limbore, meaning a stupid dance performed with a piece of wood. Lollard is from the Latin lolium, meaning lollard. * "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass" Exodus 18:21 ...more |
Notes are private!
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Nov 02, 2018
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Jan 14, 2019
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Jun 10, 2017
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Hardcover
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| 1408700972
| 9781408700976
| 1408700972
| 3.79
| 138
| Sep 01, 2010
| Sep 01, 2010
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did not like it
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I picked this one up, started it, put it down, picked it up weeks later, put it down, you know, is it him or is it me or maybe it’s David Lloyd George
I picked this one up, started it, put it down, picked it up weeks later, put it down, you know, is it him or is it me or maybe it’s David Lloyd George? But I think it’s him. Here’s the thing – I need the shelf space and this chunk is 700 pages. I bought this on a whim and now I need room for my more recent whims, which I hope will be more entertaining than this tiresome and bewildering trudge. Here’s the other thing – he’s writing this for fellow wonks. You can tell because he never steps back to say, for instance, that in the year DLG was elected to the Commons the state of the parties was like this, and the Liberals believed this, Tories that, and DLG took this or that line, and so on. Orienteering. Very important in politics otherwise it’s all just names, names names. ...more |
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not set
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not set
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Mar 17, 2016
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Hardcover
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| 1846140188
| 9781846140181
| 1846140188
| 4.21
| 2,511
| Nov 06, 2014
| Nov 06, 2014
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really liked it
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We who have lived in England since 1945 have been among the luckiest people in the existence of Homo sapiens, rich, peaceful and healthy.* If you watch We who have lived in England since 1945 have been among the luckiest people in the existence of Homo sapiens, rich, peaceful and healthy.* If you watched the news on the tv here, you would not think so. The news is filled with people dying in hospital corridors, being stabbed in parks, visiting food banks because even though they work two jobs they can’t afford a tin of beans, etc – A Ken Loach film like I Daniel Blake or Shane Meadows’ This is England will give you the idea, and there are dozens like that ; and no wonder things are bad because just look at the parade of buffoons they send to govern us – Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, and grinning broadly behind them, Nigel Farage. So this brings me to DECLINISM When British people talk about Britain it is forever in terms of doom and gloom, of once being great and now being number 31 in a table of countries with the brightest children, or something like that. Declinism has been our national narrative for several generations, a chorus of lamentation in a lucky country where life is safer, longer and more comfortable than ever in history. [image] Possibly the freakish nature of the British Empire (25% of the whole world at its height) meant that everything that came after it seemed hollow and diminished to some people, just like English theatre after Shakespeare, or English pop music after the Beatles. During my life I have noticed that Britain continually beats itself over the head with Sweden (and other Scandinavian countries) – they are so good at everything, we are so bad. It becomes tiresome. So I was glad to find that Robert Tombs was having none of it. A distorted narrative of continuous economic failure from the 1870s was constructed, and then explained as due to deep-seated political and cultural failures… although they have long since been intellectually demolished He robustly tells us that the economic woes of Britain have been broadly similar to other countries and compared to many we’re doing quite a bit better. That’s almost the first cheerful thing I’ve heard anyone say about Britain in decades. He says “The change has been that a few other countries have caught up.” He says that of the two superpowers who eclipsed Britain after WW2, one vanished in a puff of smoke, and the other repeatedly found itself mired in ghastly mistaken foreign adventures as “the world no longer permits the light-touch hegemony formerly exercised by Britain”. Yes, there can be some loftiness in his tone. Note : Other countries have their own myths of decline too – MAGA, if it means anything, means that America isn’t great now. A NOTE ON ENGLAND/BRITAIN/UNITED KINGDOM/WHATEVER IT’S CALLED [image] There is a separate history of Wales and Scotland up to the 16th century, but since then England colonised them and incorporated them. And in this book RT begins to use the name Britain all the time after World War One. It’s a bit of a giveaway. So I think the premise of this book is dubious. It’s not just the English we are talking about here. When the British Empire, WW1 and WW2 are discussed the whole nation is involved, how could it not be. HISTORY REALLY IS ONE DAMN THING AFTER ANOTHER. Unfortunately for me, history is crammed with war and economics, and I can’t say either of those light up my multi-fuel ecodesign smoke controlled wood burner; so I picked and threaded my way through the latter part of this vast tome from 1850 to now, that was the bit I was interested in. When you read this stuff you quickly understand that in politics there is never a dull moment, and that the task of the politicians is to talk about the current situation in a way that gives the impression they know what’s going on and what to do about it. [image] TO READ OR NOT TO READ But I loved his description of the impact the First World War had on Britain; and his whistlestop tour of the swinging 60s was fun, between the heavy showers of economics. I kind of recommend this, but…. It’s a bit long. And it's got a lot of those fact things in it. [image] SOUNDTRACK Another Quiet Night in England : The Oyster Band The Hard Times of old England : The Copper Family The Rose of England : Nick Lowe Waterloo Sunset : The Kinks Heartland : The The A Place Called England : June Tabor The British Man o’ War : The Old Swan Band Sweet England : Shirley Collins Adieu to Old England : Shirley Collins *(He adds that that goes for the whole of the Western world.) ...more |
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May 05, 2024
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Jun 05, 2024
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Nov 18, 2014
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Hardcover
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| 1561310700
| 9781561310708
| 1561310700
| 4.11
| 2,387
| Oct 01, 2000
| Mar 18, 2002
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really liked it
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In 1972 a total of 498 people were killed in Northern Ireland, which had a small population of around 1.5 million. It was a very violent place. The to
In 1972 a total of 498 people were killed in Northern Ireland, which had a small population of around 1.5 million. It was a very violent place. The total body count of The Troubles is 3,739 between 1966 and 2012 (but the murders have not been in double figures since 2004.) Now – can anyone tell me how many people have died in Iraq’s complex internal wars since 2003? Is anyone counting? And that’s just one example. How long have you got? Really, as civil wars go, it was not much to write home about. The United Nations estimated casualties of the Sri Lankan civil war as somewhere between 80 and 100,000 killed between 1982 and 2009. Now that’s what you call a civil war. But I’ll say one thing for the Troubles – they kept your attention. Just when you were beginning to lose interest with the interminable tit-for-tat shootings ( see Alan Clarke’s grim but excellent film Elephant ) something really ghastly would happen. FOR INSTANCE In May 1981 a British soldier shot Julie Livingstone in the head with a plastic bullet. He alleged he was shooting at rioters. She died the following day. She was 14. In the same month a rioting crowd began throwing stones at a passing milk lorry. The lorry crashed into a lamppost and the driver and his son, Desmond Guiney, were killed. Desmond was 14 too. Julie was Catholic, Desmond was Protestant. That’s what you could call fearful symmetry. THE TWO MINORITIES People make out Irish politics were complex. Not really. The big reason for this low-level civil war was plain to see. If you consider Ireland as one country, the Protestants are a minority (maybe 20%). But the country was chopped up in 1922, and in Northern Ireland, a province of Great Britain, the Protestants are the majority (60%). The Protestants wanted to keep being the majority, thank you very much, and the Catholics wanted Northern Ireland to re-join the Republic of Ireland so they could be in the majority. And it wasn’t just a whimsical notion either, it was a fight to get the hands of the strangler off their throats. There’s no doubt the Catholics were viciously denied every possible social and human right between 1922 and, well, the outbreak of peace in 2004. They were denied housing, jobs, votes, decent treatment by the police and courts, you name it. They had been kept down for so long. Well, isn't democracy the rule of the majority? If so, Northern Ireland 1922-2004 was intensely democratic. Not so surprising that when the top shot off the kettle it went with a bang. THE HUNGER STRIKE The gruesome story of the Troubles never became boring because each side had a flair for original or striking twists. The hunger strikes were really something. For politicians, it was like being trapped in a horror film, only it was real. Here’s how it got to be that way. Imagine this. IRA prisoners, hundreds of whom were behind bars in the Maze prison, (more IRA members inside prison than outside!), had long insisted that they were political prisoners and/or prisoners of war, and not criminals. The British government shilly-shallied about the issue. At first, to avoid trouble, they did grant “political status” to these prisoners, but then they changed their mind – by 1976 they could stomach it no more, they craved to stop coddling the murderous scum, so they decided to phase out the special privileges and make the IRA wear ordinary prison uniforms and carry out ordinary prison work. Republican prisoners were determined to fight to maintain their special political status. So they decided to refuse to wear prison uniform. Prison officers would beat these guys, and in retaliation, the IRA began systematically killing off-duty prison officers (ten in 1979 alone). The prisoners were refused any clothing if they refused to wear the uniforms. They were given a blanket and a mattress. By 1978 there were 300 such prisoners “on the blanket”. It was a classic battle of male egos. The problem for the prisoners was that no one much cared if they were naked. Their campaign went on for 18 months and got nowhere. So they hit on the idea of refusing to wash. Thus began the next phase, the dirty protest. They refused to leave their cells at all, either for food or to have a shower or, crucially, to empty their chamber pots: leaving prison officers to empty the chamber pots. The clashes this led to meant that excrement and urine literally became weapons in the war between prisoners and prison officers. … Soon the protest was escalated again, prisoners spreading their excrement on the walls. As conditions reached dangerous levels, with maggot infestations and threat of disease, the prison authorities forcibly removed prisoners to allow their cells to be steam-cleaned with special equipment, (and) forcible baths, shaves and haircuts of protesting prisoners. The British secretary of state for Northern Ireland, Roy Mason, wrote : The image of prisoners naked in their cells with nothing for company but their own filth is undeniably potent, and it was being trumpeted round the world. But despite the adverse publicity I couldn’t give in. To do so would give the IRA its biggest victory in years. It would mean the abandonment of…the rule of law. Then things went up another gear – seven prisoners went on hunger strike in October 1980. The IRA leadership was dismayed – they didn’t want any more of this, but they were not in control of their own members in prison. By now Margaret Thatcher was prime minister, and she said: I want this to be utterly clear – the government will never concede political status to the hungerstrikers or to any others convicted of criminal offences. The first hungerstrike quickly collapsed in confusion. The second one began on 1st March 1981. The first prisoner to refuse food was Bobby Sands. He was 27. It's worth noting here that the Suffragettes, in the 1910s, also went on prison hungerstrike. They were force-fed. The government decided they would not do that with the Irish prisoners. Indeed, Margaret Thatcher said : If Mr Sands persisted in his wish to commit suicide, that was his choice. Then things went up another gear. A Nationalist MP died in Northern Ireland, and the IRA had the brilliant idea of putting up Bobby Sands as the candidate for the by-election. On 9 April 1981, when he was already losing his sight and was very ill, he was elected as Member of Parliament for Fermanagh and South Tyrone. He died on 5th May. The other hungerstrikers weren’t far behind. Seven days after Bobby Sands, Francis Hughes died, 9 days after him came Raymond McCreesh and Patsy O’Hara on the same day, 18 days later, Joe McDonnell, and so on…. Ten men, all in their mid-20s, dying of starvation one after another, between May and August. It was so gruesome. How did it end? The families of the 13 other hungerstrikers, the ones who hadn’t yet died, insisted they stop – they were terrified, they were out of their minds, they knew the British government didn’t care a hoot, and the prisoners eventually listened to their families and stopped. The authors sum it up : There could have been no more definitive display of political motivation than the spectacle of ten men giving their lives in an awesome display of self-sacrifice and dedication. It was possible to view this as outlandish fanaticism, and many did; but it was not possible to claim that there were indistinguishable from ordinary criminals. NUN'S MEN AND MONKS' WOMEN There are some amazing quotes in this book. Here are two about the IRA. The first is from the Rev Dr Ian Paisley, who recently died. A very remarkable man. He was always good for a soundbite. This is him in 1994 : Are we going to agree to a partnership with the IRA men of blood who have slain our loved ones, destroyed our country, burned our churches, tortured our people, and now demand that we should become slaves in a country fit only for nuns’ men and monks’ women to live in? We cannot bow the knee to these traitors in Whitehall, nor to those offspring of the Vatican who walk the corrupted corridors of power. Here’s another from John Hume, a Catholic nationalist politician : The IRA are more Irish than the rest of us, they believe. They are the pure master race of Irish. They are the keepers of the holy grail of the nation. That deep-seated attitude, married to their method, has all the hallmarks of undiluted fascism. They have all the other hallmarks of the fascist – the scapegoat – the Brits are to blame for everything, even their own atrocities! You probably know this already, but 13 years after the first quote, Reverend Paisley became First Minister of Northern Ireland with none other than Martin McGuinness, former military leader of the IRA, as Deputy First Minister. [image] After all the horrors, the body parts, the misery, the existential hardcore never-surrender-never, never, the mutual slayings, the undisguised hatreds, the story winds its way into something which might, if you tilt it backwards and hold it up to the sun, be mistaken for peace by a myopic man without his glasses on. At least, when I go to London these days, I don’t have to worry about the IRA blowing me up randomly.* There’s some other people who’ve taken over that position now. This is a great sober account of a little war in a little place. Really nothing much to bother about. Just a little normal sorrow, just some ordinary pity. Only 3,739 dead people. There’s probably more than that in two days in Syria or the Congo. *Last fatal bombing in mainland Britain by the IRA : 1996. ...more |
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Sep 24, 2014
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Oct 03, 2014
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Sep 24, 2014
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Hardcover
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| 184018504X
| 9781840185041
| 184018504X
| 4.56
| 91
| Oct 08, 1999
| Jun 01, 2004
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it was amazing
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Update. You can only read this book a few pages at a time, it's very upsetting. It gives you like no other account I ever read the details of urban gue Update. You can only read this book a few pages at a time, it's very upsetting. It gives you like no other account I ever read the details of urban guerilla war. I'll give one example. On 9 August 1971 running gun battles erupted between the IRA, the Protestant militias and the British Army. It was chaos. 12 people died in one night. Here's one of the 12 deaths : A reporter from the Irish Times named Kevin Myers was in the middle of it. He was in a house and was shot at by some sniper from a house across the road. A soldier who was down in the street shot at the sniper and the reporter thought that saved his life. He ran down to the street to get away from the madness. He saw three kids throwing stones at the soldiers from an alley between two houses. He told them there was shooting going on and they didn't believe him, they hadn't noticed it. Then the soldier who had just shot at the sniper thought there was another sniper in the alley where the kids were, and fired again. His shot ricocheted off a wall and fragments of the one bullet hit the three boys he couldn't even see; one lost the fingers of one hand, another lost the back of his head but survived; the third was 16 year old Leo McGuigan. I crouched beside him but he was dead to my fingers, and no blood came from the tiny hole in his cheek. We put his lifeless lolling body in a car. This was just a random car which was passing and had stopped to help. As the car began to drive away the same soldier aimed his automatic weapon at it but this time several people told him not to fire and he didn't. **** This is a five star book and I’ll probably never finish it, I’m only on page 60 of 1542 closely printed pages, it will take years. But it’s a stunning achievement, and I wanted to make a point about it. This book tells the story of every single death caused by the Troubles in Northern Ireland and England. The first one on 11 June 1966 (John Scullion, aged 28, single, storeman) all the way through to the last, on 8 May 2006 (Michael McIlveen, aged 15, schoolboy – number 3712). 2006 is when the last edition was published. There have been a few more deaths since then, but not that many. A handful. So – 3,712 death over a period of 40 years. From three year old Jonathan Ball, an English kid killed in Warrington, a town in England, when the IRA planted bombs in litter bins in a shopping mall (a 12 year old boy was also killed in that one) all the way to 91 year old Martha Smylie who was killed by a UDA bomb which was planted at the Imperial Hotel in Belfast. The bomb damaged her old peoples’ home next door and this old lady was badly injured, and died the following day. This book, with austere reserved grace gives us the people back from the statistics. If you’re interested in Northern Ireland, or civil conflict, or terrorism, or what happens when police fire into a crowd, or a car bomb goes off in a crowded street, or how people live when the ground is crumbling under their feet, this is a must have. That there should be a similar volume for the victims of all conflicts is self-evident, just as self-evidently there never will be. * Postscript: I mentioned this book to a colleague of mine, we've worked in the same office for years, and she comes from Strabane, a border town in Northern Ireland. It turned out that Number 2555, Ronnie Finlay, aged 32, Protestant, married, 3 children, factory worker, shot by the IRA on 23 August 1983 as he left his factory, was her dad's best friend. ...more |
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0
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not set
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not set
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Mar 26, 2014
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Hardcover
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| 0701172983
| 9780701172985
| B00BO497OQ
| 4.13
| 9,932
| Feb 28, 1999
| 2003
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liked it
| THE REASONABLY SENSIBLE REVIEW (Having had some crude knockabout fun with this book I thought that it deserved a reasonably straight review too. ) As Sh THE REASONABLY SENSIBLE REVIEW (Having had some crude knockabout fun with this book I thought that it deserved a reasonably straight review too. ) As Shakespeare didn’t say, some are born weird, some achieve weirdness, and some have weirdness thrust upon them. This is English history as Mexican soap opera. It’s compelling stuff. THE BOOK David Starkey is a loathesome right-wing creep who gets invited onto British political discussion programmes because producers know he’ll say something outrageous and all the liberals will be hissing about him the next morning. But he’s a solid historian who attacks his field (monarchy in general, Tudors in particular) with gusto and narrative energy. Mostly, he’s a good read. In this book he includes way too much detail about the pomp ‘n’ ceremony and the royal progresses (the King on tour) and the protocols and suchlike, mainly, I think, aside from the possibility that he’s in love with all this stuff, because it’s like what used to be called Kremlin-watching. When you can’t get the inside dope, you have to infer what’s going off in the court by who sits with who and who visits who and for how long. It’s not all like that – we do have lots of juicy bits too. So I would have cut this book by about one third – it’s a bugger to lug about – but it becomes easy to spot which bits can be skipped. And even when you do all the ceremony-skipping, it’s still really long. But the story is very remarkable, and the psychology is all intact for the armchair student. GOD WARS As we know, when kings marry it’s not for love, it’s all part of the dynastic chess game. Henry broke this rule a couple of times and did marry for love, and see how that turned out – not well. There were two main problems for Henry’s wives – producing sons (only one managed to do that, and only one son), and figuring out their place in the ongoing religious hoo-hah called the Reformation. This needs a word of explanation. I had been thinking before reading this book that when Henry decided the Pope was never going to give him a straight answer about his divorce, and told the Pope to take a running jump, and declared himself to be the supreme head of the English Church, that this was the English Reformation, and the country then became Protestant. Not so. Henry didn’t change anything, he was just as Catholic as the next Pope. He dissolved the monasteries but that was purely for money. So the Protestants were laying out their theologies (that transubstantiation did not exist, that only faith got you to heaven, etc) but Henry was burning them for it. The reformation in England happened after Henry. It was a complicated piecemeal affair. But Henry’s wives were all caught up in the whole religious war, which was sometimes hot, sometimes cold, always subversive to personal lives, always cruel, never merciful. They each had their beliefs, or they thought they did, and they perforce had to get involved in all the manoeuvring once they became Queen. It wasn’t pretty. It was the end for more than one of them. THE WIVES 1) Catherine of Aragon. Well, she had a strange life. She was a piece on the diplomatic chessboard, moved around by her parents and by Henry VII and then by his son. She never got to do much of anything she actually wanted to do. She was Spanish, and was betrothed to Arthur son of Henry VII at the age of three (he was 2). When she was 16 she went off to England to be finally married. The groom was 15. Less than a year later he died. So now what? Bright idea from Henry VII – she should stick around in England and marry his other son, Henry. Who was ten at the time. She had no choice. So when he was 17 and she was 24, they married. She had umpteen pregnancies, produced only one daughter and no sons, and Henry became convinced she was a dud and that someone else should get the job. The way he was going to dump Catherine was to say that they were never married – he found a verse in the Bible saying marrying your brother’s widow is wrong (there’s another verse saying marrying your brother’s widow is compulsory) so he decided the marriage was never legal. He just had to persuade the Pope, who was a political pawn of Catherine’s uncle and who took 7 years to not make a decision. So Henry dumped the Pope then dumped Catherine. Good news, he didn't kill her. 2) Anne Boleyn – after Penelope Cruz came Elizabeth Taylor. Henry couldn’t keep up. Eventually he decided either she was getting way too Protestant and radical so he got Cromwell to fit her up with some bogus adultery charges, or she really had been spreading herself around the court. Who knew. She got the chop. 3) Jane Seymour – After Penelope Cruz and Liz Taylor came Bridget Jones. Henry really liked her ordinariness. She liked him too. Life was good. Then she got pregnant. Better still. Then she had a boy. The best queen ever! Then a week later she died. 4) Anne of Cleves - This was where Henry selected her out of several foreign possibilities based on portraits. Turned out she was so ugly he almost couldn't look at her - the Flanders Mare. But he took pity - explained to her (via a translator) that her looks prevented him from getting an erection and that therefore the marriage was annulled, and she could stay in England and be his sister instead. 5) Catherine Howard. - Then came Lindsay Lohan. She lasted 18 months. Boy bands have had longer careers. Her head rolled. 6) Finally Catherine Parr who actually outlived - survived - Henry by about 18 months. She came close to getting the chop but did some fast talking. Immediately - in a matter of weeks - after he died she married the guy she really loved, then became pregnant, then died. It was dangerous being female in the 16th century. 500 years later in a lot of places not much has improved. ...more |
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Mar 24, 2013
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Mar 24, 2013
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Hardcover
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| 0060005505
| 9780060005504
| 0060005505
| 4.13
| 9,932
| Feb 28, 1999
| May 04, 2004
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liked it
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MARRY, KISS OR KILL : THE SIX WIVES OF HENRY VIII A play in several indecent acts ACT ONE Scene 1 The Year : 1500. Plymouth Docks Catherine of Aragon (aged MARRY, KISS OR KILL : THE SIX WIVES OF HENRY VIII A play in several indecent acts ACT ONE Scene 1 The Year : 1500. Plymouth Docks Catherine of Aragon (aged 16) : So this is England... (She is violently ill). Scene 2 The Year : 1501. London Chuck Berry : It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished them well You could see that Young Arthur did truly love the mademoiselle Catherine : Like, what are you, 15? Arthur: Well, yes… (begins crying). Scene 3 The Year : 1502. Ludlow Castle, Wales Arthur : I’m going to bed. I’ve got the collywobbles or something. Later that evening. Lady in Waiting : Oh la, Princess Catherine, Prince Arthur has just died. Catherine : Come on, you’re pulling my plonker. I only just got here. We’ve only been married like five minutes. Oh my God, what a fucking disaster. Now what? Scene 4 The Year 1502. London Henry VII : We deeply regret the death of our heir and first born, the right noble Prince Arthur. But good news is, we have another one. Catherine: What? No, don’t make fun of me, I’m a young Spanish girl and apart from my 65 servants I’m completely alone in your creepy country. Henry VII : No, straight up. Take a look. Enter Prince Henry, skipping. He has his crown on backwards. Prince Henry : Hey sire. Hey Kath. Wassup? Catherine : Hey, Hal. Wanna game of badminton? Wait…. Oh wait a moment… (speaks to Henry VII) … tell me this is a joke, right? You don’t mean what I think you mean? Henry VII : Smiling broadly I knew you’d catch on! So what do you think? He’s a likely lad ain’t he – look at those plump calves, give him a poke in his middle there, he’s a likely lad alright. (Winks) Catherine (now in a towering Spanish rage) : He’s ten years old you old English perv! Henry VII : Calm down dear, I didn’t mean now, obviously not now. You’ll have to wait around a bit. But you know, you’ll get to be Queen! It’s all good! Catherine: Well how long do you suppose I’ll be having to hang around then? Henry VII : Oh, er… how does seven years sound? Catherine (sings) : It might as well rain until 1509. Scene 5 The year 1521. London. Henry VIII: Look, you can’t say I didn’t give her a fair crack of the whip. But I got to say, it looks like God didn’t want me to be married to this one. How many times has she been up the duff? About a zillion? And how many sons do I have? About none? Am I right? Cardinal Wolsey: Okay boss, but we can’t do nothing without the word. Henry VIII: The word? Wolsey : Yeah. From R-O-M-E. Henry VIII: Well, what do I pay you for? Get it done. And ask the Lady Anne to join me in my privy chamber. I wish to fumble with her lambkins. Henry VIII (soliloquy) She comes around here just about midnight, ha She make me feel so good, I wanna say she make me feel all right. Comes a-walkin' down my street, then she comes up to my palace, She knock upon my door and then she comes to my privy chamber, Yeah an' she make me feel all right, And her name is A-N-N-E B-O-L-E-Y-N I'm talkin' bout B-O-L-E-Y-N Shout it out now ACT TWO Scene 1 The Year 1522. London Catherine of Aragon (soliloquy) : Boleyn, Boleyn, Boleyn, Boleyyyyyyyyyyn I'm begging of you, please don't take my man Boleyn, Boleyn, Boleyn, Boleyyyyyyyyyyn Please don't take him just because you can. Your beauty is beyond compare With flaming locks of coal black hair With ivory skin And eyes of emerald green Your smile is like a breath of spring Your voice is soft like summer rain And I cannot compete with you, Boleyn Boleyn, Boleyn, Boleyn, Boleyyyyyyyyyyn I'm begging of you please don't take my man Well you could have your choice of men But I could never love again He's the only one for me, Boleyn And I had to have this talk with you My happiness depends on you And whatever you decide to do, Boleyn Scene 2 The year 1529. London Enter Catherine. Catherine : Greetings, most bountiful Lord, my dear husband. Henry VII: Good morrow, lodger. Catherine : Lodger? Nay, wife, I trow. Henry VIII: Lodger. Catherine : Wife! Henry VIII: Lodger. Catherine: Don't give me this crap. My lord, we have asked the Pope these several times and he says our marriage is a true and indissoluble bond fused in the highest heavens which can never be broken asunder. Henry VII: Yeah, well, I will crush the Pope’s brains with my own two hands. Scene 3 Later that day. Anne Boleyn : Look, I’m not getting any younger. Catherine of Aragon: We all noticed that. Anne : Shut your trap you fat slag. Henry VIII : O who shall envieth the King of England who like a badger entrapp’d by hounds turns now to the left hand and now to the right yet seeest no sky. This lodger of mine has my balls in a Spanish salt grinder. Enter Wolsey. Henry VIII : Well, what have you got for me? Wolsey: Well, it’s complicated. It looks like the Pope’s not playing ball. (Dies.) Enter Thomas Cranmer Cranmer: I have an idea. It could be the Pope is a heretic. Henry VIII: I like that. Talk to me, Thomas. Anne (to Henry VIII) : You got to do something that no one else did Friends say that it can’t be done But all my love you know you've won So third finger, left hand That's where you gotta place the wedding band The Vandellas : Oooo - oooh Henry VIII : Yeah, yeah, I get it. Scene 4 The Year 1530. London Enter Thomas Cromwell Cromwell : Sire, I have a crazy idea but it just might work. Why don’t… you be the Pope. Of England. The Pope…of England! Yeah. Like that. It be cool. Henry VIII : By my trow, that man hath the sow by the right ear. Scene 5 The Year 1536. The Tower of London Anne Boleyn : How did the old fool find out? I was so discreet with Mark Smeaton, Sir Henry Norris, Sir Francis Weston, Sir Richard Page, Sir Thomas Wyatt, my brother, Sir Francis Bryan, the Spanish ambassador, oh my he was good... Thomas Cromwell( listening at the door): Aha. Henry VIII: Various cardinals and courtiers chaunting doo wop a wop in the background Here's the moral and the story from the guy who knows I fell in love and my love still grows Ask any Protestant in the land They'll say keep away from-a Runaround Anne She likes to travel around, yeah She'll love you and she'll put you down Now people let me put you wise Anne goes out with other guys Scene 6 The Year 1536. Tower Hill, London Executioner : Don’t worry, I’m good at this. You won’t feel a thing. Anne : Slag. She is beheaded. The Executioner holds up her head and shows it to the crowd Head : Slags! ACT THREE Scene 1 Next day. Henry : Oh Jane. Jane Seymour : Oh Henry. Scene 2: Later that same year Cromwell : Sire, my liege, most gracious Highness, do you want the good news or the bad news. Henry : Oh the good news, you know me. Cromwell: You have a son! Henry : At last! Brilliant! What’s the bad news – has it got two heads? Cromwell : No, it’s okay but your wife kind of died. Scene 3 The Year : 1537. Some palace in England, who cares Henry : Mail order? What do you mean? Cromwell : Well, you look at the pix and you decide which one you like and then they ship her over. Henry (not convinced) : What if the pictures are attainted – suborned – photoshopped? Cromwell : You send Hans Holbein over, he does you a quick portrait, and Bob’s your uncle. Henry : Well, okay… (thumbs through the book) – what about that one? Cromwell : Oh, sorry – dead of plague. Henry : That one? Cromwell : Ah, yeah, she was cute. Look at those tasty wambles. But, er, they burned her for heresy only last week. Henry (not known for his patience) : Then that one. Cromwell : Okay! Saxony here we come! Scene 4 The Year 1539. Rochester. Henry is peeking through a heavy curtain. Henry : Oh my God! Is that her? Tell me it’s not so! She looks like a monkfish. I’ve seen prettier partially eaten dead donkeys. I wouldn’t touch that one with a ten foot pole. My dick has shrivelled off and is now running away at great speed. I’m going to have Hans Holbein’s guts on toast for dinner. Cromwell (singing frantically and capering about) If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life Never make a pretty woman your wife So from my personal point of view Get an ugly girl to marry you Scene 5 The Year 1540. A street in London Courtier 1: I heard he hated her but he couldn’t get out of it. Courtier 2 : Yes, and I heard from a very good source that he couldn’t get it up – I can’t say I’m surprised, did you see her yet? The actual words he used were (whispers) “I could not in any wise overcome that loathsomeness in her company and be provoked or stirred to that act”! Courtier 1 : Oh I say… what a disahster – what does she say about it? Courtier 2: Well, what I heard was, that she was such an ignorant German goose that she wondered why she didn’t get with child even though all he ever did was say Madam, I bid thee goodnight! Courtier 1 : Well I can’t say I’m surprised that nobody had explained the birds and the bees to her before. I mean, why would you need to bother? Courtier 2: I know. Isn’t it just too delicious. Scene 6 The Year 1540. London. Cromwell : Sign here…. Here…. And here. Anne of Cleves : Er – how much a year did you say? Cromwell : £4000. Anne : Das ist das beste Angebot, das ich hatte das ganze Jahr über haben. She signs. Scene 7 The Year : 1541. A fence in Pall Mall, London First sparrow : So much for the new queen then. Second sparrow : I here she’s happy enough where she is. 1st sparrow: What, rolling around in a basket? 2nd sparrow: Huh? No, she has a nice house, she’s okay. 1st sparrow: They chopped her head off. 2nd sparrow: They did? Wow, I did not hear that. Was it because she was so damned ugly? 1st sparrow: No, idiot, she was a pretty little thing. 2nd sparrow: What Anne? She was a dog! 1st sparrow : No, not Anne, Catherine! 2nd sparrow: Who’s a idiot? Catherine’s long gone. I’m talking about Anne. Of Cleves. 1st sparrow: Oh – I get it – you’ve been away… you missed a whole queen! Yeah man, they come and go quick, you blink and you miss a whole queen! Ha ha, that’s kind of funny. A 3rd sparrow flutters down to join them. 3rd sparrow : Hey this new queen’s all right. Dunno how long she’ll last though. 1st sparrow : She already got the chop, bro. Dead ‘n’ gone, deader ‘n’ dead. 3rd sparrow: What Catherine? 1st sparrow: Yep, Catherine. 3rd sparrow: Catherine Parr? 1st sparrow: No, what, who’s she? 2nd sparrow : Ha ha, youse guys, this is the most ridiculousest conversation I ever heard between London sparrows. A 4th sparrow flutters down to join them 4th sparrow : Hey, Henry’s dead, guys. All : Henry who? [image] ...more |
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not set
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Mar 24, 2013
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Feb 16, 2013
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Paperback
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| 0099532670
| 9780099532675
| 0099532670
| 4.00
| 15,129
| May 16, 1996
| Jan 06, 2009
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really liked it
| On that day a dead dog with clipped ears, a rope around its neck, and its head tonsured like a priest’s was hurled into the Queen’s chamber at Whiteha On that day a dead dog with clipped ears, a rope around its neck, and its head tonsured like a priest’s was hurled into the Queen’s chamber at Whitehall. This is history at its best, with utterly intense soap opera plots and weird glamorous characters and all of it true. This book picks up where Henry VIII and his collection of calamitous chorines left off and tells the story of the next eleven years. And what eleven years they were. Heads rolled, the stench of burning flesh hung in the air, and there was a coup d’etat, and in the middle of it all, three unfortunate children, one of whom was beheaded. When Henry expired of (it is thought) type II diabetes he’d already laid down what should happen to the crown. It should go to his only son Edward, then if he died without any heirs to his first daughter Mary, then if she died without any heirs to his second daughter Elizabeth. No one paid too much attention to the back-up plan with the girls, since the likelihood of them succeeding was thought remote, but that is exactly what happened. The Tudors were really bad at having kids. There’s a woman at my office who had two sons in quick succession recently. I said “you would have made a great wife for Henry VIII” and she said “No, I would have been dead, they were both C section, and one was breech”. Being pregnant was often a death sentence. Extract from Mary’s will, 1557 : I, Mary Queen of England, thinking myself to be with child in lawful marriage…and being at this present (thanks be unto Almighty God) otherwise in good health, yet foreseeing the great danger which, by God’s ordinance, remains to all women in the travail of children, have thought…to declare my last will and testament. So Edward VI became King aged 9 in 1547. He sounds like a precocious spiteful arrogant brat, God rest his soul. The big shot lords who ran the government were pushing through a religious revolution in his name, and this was the big issue of the day. Henry VIII as we know had told the Pope to go chastise himself, and declared Henry himself to be Supreme Head of the Church of England, but that didn’t mean he was a Protestant – no sir! But Edward’s handlers, they were. Meanwhile, half sister Mary, aged 31, was a hardcore Catholic (she was half Spanish); and half sister Elizabeth, aged 14, was becoming a hardcore Protestant. The salty English soup was coming to the boil. Edward VI started to die when he was around 14 and completed the job aged 15. He probably had tuberculosis. For lurid descriptions of lingering vile fatal illnesses, Alison Weir is hard to beat here. After this teenage death the salty soup boiled over. THE NINE DAY QUEEN The guy running the government at that point was one John Dudley (Duke of Northumberland, Lord High Admiral, blah blah). He went just a little bit completely crazy. He saw his meal ticket subsided into the arms of Lethe, and his mind was racing – if Mary is Queen, I’ll be for the chop. She’ll throw out all the Protestants and bring in Catholics. I’ll lose everything. What can I do to rescue this damnable situation? So he came up with a Plan. 1. Persuade the dying 15 year old King to disinherit both his sisters 2. Persuade him to nominate another child as his successor 3. Persuade the regency council and the entire country to accept this insane plan. Then I can carry on running the country. The hapless girl he fixed on was a 15 year old called Jane Grey, a cousin of the king and a great grand daughter of Henry VII. John Dudley bullied her parents, bullied the council, and bullied her. His line was, it’s either Jane Grey or the Pope, by which he meant, it’s either me or the Pope. For a few days after Edward died it looked like the whole thing might work. Dudley was like a chessplayer on crack – move this here, block this there, swap those off, get that and that round to here… but then his great plan began to unravel just like in my chess games. As soon as they announced the succession of Queen Jane through England people (the nobles and the hoi polloi) started spontaneously drifting to Mary’s residence in Framlingham to declare support for her. Dudley got an army together to go and take Mary prisoner, he realised that would be essential, and he was running around bribing the solders and they were melting away, deserting, shamed by the nastiness of the enterprise. Yes, Mary was a Catholic, but she was Harry’s daughter. Everyone knew that. So Dudley was left with a melting posse, not an army, a loutish gang, and Mary arrested him, not the other way round, and that was the end of that. QUEEN MARY’S TO DO LIST 1. Suppress rivals to the throne by force of arms 2. Imprison Elizabeth in The Tower (we can’t prove anything but just let’s make her sweat a little bit) 3. Behead Jane? 4. Get married to Catholic toy boy 5. Convert the whole country back to Catholicism 6. Give birth to boy 7. Burn heretics by the score Queen Jane Approximately was clapped in the Tower of London with her immediate family and fiancé. Mary was Queen, the nation rejoiced. How quickly their songs of love and celebration turned to tears and gnashing of teeth. As Catherine of Aragon is the agonised heroine of Henry VIII’s reign, so her daughter Mary is the agonised antiheroine of the following ten years. At first Mary was all sweetness and mercy and didn’t want to execute Jane or her family. Until there was another rebellion, also feeble, which also melted away. That convinced her to remove her rivals, so she threw her sister into the Tower, and Jane, aged 16, went to the block. [image] After that, no more Mrs Nice Mary. She got married to a Spanish Catholic prince. She was 38, he was 27. Description of Mary by Ruy Gomez, her husband’s best mate : rather older than we had been told. She is not at all beautiful and is small and flabby rather than fat. She is of white complexion and fair, and has no eyebrows…. [Philip] treats the Queen very kindly and well knows how to pass over the fact that she is no good from the point of view of fleshly sensuality. Anonymous Spanish courtier : What shall the king do with such an old bitch? After the wedding and the honeymoon came the serious business of burning human beings alive, however. Back to work. It turned out that this sweet woman, who pretty much everyone liked personally, who had been sorely mistreated most of her life, called a bastard, rejected and imprisoned by her father and brother, who everyone had such sympathy for, when by a simple twist of fate she broke free from this wretched life and became queen, the first ever English queen to reign in her own name, the thing she really wanted to do was burn people alive if they disagreed with her. HERETICS : BURNINGS PER MONARCH Elizabeth – 5 in 45 years (0.11 per year) Henry VII – 10 in 24 years (0.41 per year) Henry VIII – 81 in 38 years (2.3 per year) Mary – 295 in 4 years (74 per year) ENGLAND UNDER MARY I never saw England weaker in strength, money, men and riches. As much affectionate as you know me to be to my country and countrymen, I assure you I was ashamed of both. Here was nothing but fining, heading, hanging, quartering and burning.. taxing, levying and beggaring, and losing our strongholds abroad. A few priests ruled all, who, with setting up of six foot roods, thought to make all cocksure. Thomas Smith, 1560 IN CONCLUSION My kind of history book, a great story told with meticulous detail. Alison Weir isn’t the most personal writer, she keeps her own counsel, refrains from comment, and I would have liked more of that, but really, I ain’t complaining none, this was hair-raising. ...more |
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Feb 11, 2013
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Apr 14, 2013
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Feb 11, 2013
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Paperback
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| 1848877951
| 9781848877955
| 1848877951
| 4.00
| 1,695
| 2012
| Oct 01, 2012
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it was amazing
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O London! City of famous fogs, pea-soupers, the London particular, a choking of the throat and cayenne pepper in the eyes and stepping gingerly along
O London! City of famous fogs, pea-soupers, the London particular, a choking of the throat and cayenne pepper in the eyes and stepping gingerly along the street you must feel the walls as you goes or you shall tumble into somebody’s cellar for sure, and all the pickpockets glad for the bad days, and Parliament forced to bring in a Purification of the Thames Act from the sheer stink of it lapping at their grand doors. And the smoke from the house fires, 644 in 1848, and that a mild year. 239 killed, not counting children. Who counts the children? [image] O London! City of clogged streets, stogged roads, impassable thoroughfares jammed with barouches, cabriolets, broughams, toll gates, barrows, the brewers and their giant dray horses, hackney cabs, omnibuses, handcarts, horses falling, people falling, three or four dead per week on average, linkboys, street sellers, sweeps, dustmen, watercress girls, everything and everybody for sale, chamois leathers, trivets, blackleading, snuff, knives to grind sir? - every street a market; o infarcted bilious capital city. O London! City of shrieks, cries and bellows, the barking of dogs, the street trader yodels, the howling rowling yowling of Smithfield slaughtered oxen, pigs, goats and sheep, the squawking of chickens and parrots in cages to buy, the shouting quarrelling disputatious roiling of the people, the pushing driving whooping harrying of the drovers rushing their animals through the narrow streets (mad bull found in tripe shop!); o hideous and discordant city. [image] O London! City of practical men! How you know what to do with an old horse! Sell the flesh to the catsmeat man; the tongue, heart and kidneys to a butcher that you may know of, the manes and tails to the upholsterers, the hooves to the glue-makers, the shoes and nails to the blacksmiths, the fat for axle grease, the skins to the tanners and the bones for buttons for vests. O London! City of reeks and stenches from the slaughterhouses, from the excremental assault of humans and animals, so many horses they can’t be counted, and from the noticeable olfactory efflorescence of the hoi polloi; and from coal dust everywhere, and from Billingsgate, largest fish market in the world; and from the Thames, the old brown swill of the Thames; o noxious nauseous city. O London! City of cruelty, jamming animals together and handling them with dreadful ferocity at Smithfield, that infamous place, and murdering animals by the thousand week after week until the streets run with a liquid poultice of mud and offal and blood and the shit of all these animals too, ankle deep, ankle deep, and the animals bellowing in agony, and the scandal talked of so many times in Parliament, and nothing done; and not just animals, no : “the deceased died from want of the common necessities of life and exposure to the cold. Name unknown. Age about 50”; and cock fighting advertised in The TIMES. And animal baiting a favourite – bulls, bears, badgers – you lay your bet on how long the dog will last against the bear until it’s dead or injured, that’s where the fun lies. It’s sixpence admission, Mondays and Thursdays. Only twice a week. Gives the bear a chance to heal up. No women allowed. O rhinoskinned indifferent city. [image] O London! City of delight, drinking, debauchery, delectation – be careful to avoid the ring-droppers and pea and thimble sharpers and watch your handkerchief, and your watch now. O the gin palaces, with their blinding gaslighting, right there in the slums, such glamour, serving gin to people deciding between food and oblivion, with oblivion winning most nights. O London! City of the swirling demonic delightful torrent of ordinary extraordinariness : in the middle of the mire and carriages and markets and hustle, right there on the street, the Punch and Judy men, the animal acts (those we do not kill and eat we wish to entertain us), tumblers, brass bands parading about, buskers, fiddlers with a dancing girl, but most common, street organists, a bugger to lug, and sometimes, the marmoset played and the boy danced, and sometimes, the other way about. Fantoccini, raree shows and the Cackler Dance where she will skip lightly, madam and miss, between 24 eggs, if you please. But now let us eat winkles and drink ginger beer, we are tired. Let’s find a chop-house or a slap-bang. Waiter, bring that gentleman’s kidneys. Look alive there, brisk now. Sir, a copy of the song just now sung? Thanks you – now give me your orders! Here’s to the maid who will take in her hand which she longs for in her heart. Oysters – legendary as the poor man’s food! Imagine that. Sam Weller says : Poverty and oysters always seem to go together…the poorer a place is, the greater call there seems to be for oysters. Blessed if I don’t think that when a man’s very poor, he rushes out of his lodgings and eats oysters in regular desperation. [image] O London! City of delusion and rumour – did you hear there is to be a horrible earthquake on 16 March 1842 and all will be dashed in pieces? St Paul’s Cathedral has already sunk five foot! Go and see if I’m wrong. And when we see the Prince Regent on the street, as sometimes we do, we shout at him : “You damned rascal, where’s your wife?” And seven assassination attempts against Queen Victoria. Among the connoisseurs of executions, it is considered that the Horsemonger Lane gaol affords the best viewing places. [image] O London! City of slums and of those who fecklessly indigent refuse to support themselves and yet breed like vermin, expecting the provident to find them the vittles, shoes and furbelows they’ve drunk all away, and a cup or three of Turkish coffee while you’re about it. Get thee to Fleet, and Clerkenwell, and if that will not suit then the Marshalsea is always welcoming, or the Spitalfields workhouse, bound by law to pinch your toes, there’s eight to ten persons a bed there, sleeping head to feet, if you call that sleep at all. They’ll sleep when they’re dead. Practical, money-making city, delirious, appalling, fuliginous, oneiric, the wonder and the centre of the world. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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not set
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May 18, 2013
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Oct 08, 2012
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Hardcover
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| 0199272689
| 9780199272686
| 0199272689
| 4.12
| 52
| Nov 14, 2002
| Sep 30, 2004
|
it was amazing
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What happened in the mere space of twenty years was a King who went to war with his own people, twice, and who was defeated, twice. And the people fin
What happened in the mere space of twenty years was a King who went to war with his own people, twice, and who was defeated, twice. And the people finding him to be a pestilential recalcitrant rogue and a man of blood, cut off his head, with the Crown upon it, and were horrified at their own actions. And kings were abolished, and England was a republic. But they found that they could not figure how to prevent Parliament itself becoming as great a tyrannical power as the King had been, especially since Parliament refused to call any new elections. So the Army turned Parliament out into the street, and a single man, the Army’s great general, Cromwell, became Lord Protector, a thing that had never been in England. He tried various types of councils and parliaments and found them to be as trying as ever King Charles did. And a few years later, he died, and the nation, not finding any sufficiently great man to take his place, called back the King, and restored him, and lit bonfires. This series of violent upheavals was minutely described by contemporaries in every twist and turn, using the beautiful language of the time. And appearing on the historical stage for the first time came a motley of strangely named rebels – Levellers, Fifth Monarchy Men, Ranters, Quakers, True Levellers, or Diggers – all with their millenarian dreams, and all thinking that now was the time, when the old world was running up like parchment in the fire. [image] Here are some favourite quotes which tell a little of this complex story. October 1647, from Putney Debates where the Army discussed what kind of government there should now be. Colonel Thomas Rainborough: I think that the poorest he that is in England has a life to live as the greatest he; and therefore truly, sir, I think it's clear that every man that is to live under a government ought first by his own consent to put himself under that government; and I do think that the poorest man in England is not at all bound in a strict sense to that government that he has not had a voice to put himself under… insomuch that I should doubt whether he was an Englishman that should doubt of these things. October 1647, from a Royalist pamphlet – a summary of events: The King raysd a Parliament he could not rule, the Parliament raysd an Army it could not rule, the Army made Agitators they cannot rule, and the Agitators are setting up the people whom they will be as little able to rule! Perhaps the single event which led to the civil war was when King Charles attempted to arrest five MPs who had been fulminating against him. 17 January 1642 : A declaration of the House of Commons touching a late breach of their privileges Many soldiers, Papists and others, to the number of about five hundred, came with His Majesty on Tuesday last to the said House of Commons, armed with swords, pistols and other weapons, and divers of them pressed to the door of the said House, thrust away the door-keepers, and placed themselves between the said door and the ordinary attendants of His Majesty, holding up their swords, and ' some holding up their pistols ready cocked near the said door and saying, ' I am a good marksman; I can hit right, I warrant you,'… afterwards some of them being demanded what they thought the said company intended to have done, answered that, questionless, in the posture they were set, if the word had been given, they should have fallen upon the House of Commons and have cut all their throats. So the King was at war with his own people. But Parliament was still ruling in his name. A paradox? Here’s how they solved it: 6 June 1642 – declaration of Parliament It is acknowledged that the King is the fountain of justice and protection, but the acts of justice and protection are not exercised in his own person, nor depend upon his pleasure, but by his courts and by his ministers, who must do their duty therein, though the King in his own person should forbid them The King saw this headlong revolutionary rush as disastrous: Charles I on the end result of democracy, 18 June 1642 at last the common people (who in the meantime must be flattered, and to whom licence must be given in all their wild humours, how contrary soever to established law, or their own real good) discover this arcanum imperii, that all this was done by them, but not for them, and grow weary of journey-work, and set up for themselves, call parity and independence liberty, devour that estate which had devoured the rest, destroy all rights and proprieties, all distinctions of families and merit, and by this means this splendid and excellently distinguished form of government end in a dark, equal chaos of confusion, and the long line of our many noble ancestors in a Jack Cade or a Wat Tyler. The King’s opponents were not happy The Earl of Manchester, 1644 If we beat the king 99 times he is king still, and so will his posterity be after him; but if the king beat us once, we shall be all hanged, and our posterity be made slaves. 1647 – the King is arrested by the Army. King Charles : You cannot do without me. You will fall to ruin if I do not sustain you. Colonel Ireton : Sir, you have an intention to be the arbitrator between the Parliament and us; and we mean to be it between your Majesty and the Parliament. The Parliament had freed the people from the King, but who would free the people from the Parliament? January 1948, from a pamphlet: O you members of Parliament, and rich men in the City, that are at ease, and drink wine in Bowls, and stretch your selves upon Beds of Down, you that grind our faces, and flay off our skins, will no man behold our faces black with Sorrow and Famine?... What then are your russling Silks and Velvets, your glittering Gold and Silver Laces? Are they not the sweat of our brows, and the wants of our backs and our bellies? Perhaps it could be Oliver Cromwell, the greatest general? Some said yes, some said no : 21 March 1649, Leveller pamphlet You shall scarce speak to Cromwell about anything but he will lay his hand on his breast, elevate his eyes and call God to record; he will weep, howl and repent even while he doth smite you under the fifth rib. After the King’s head was cut off, there were to be no more Kings : [image] 17 March 1649 : Act of Parliament abolishing the Monarchy And whereas it is and hath been found by experience the office of a King in this nation and Ireland, and to have the power thereof in any single person, is unnecessary, burdensome, and dangerous to the liberty, safety, and public interest of the people, and that for the most part, use hath been made of the regal power and prerogative to oppress and impoverish and enslave the subject; and that usually and naturally any one person in such power makes it his interest to incroach upon the just freedom and liberty of the people, and to promote the setting up of their own will and power above the laws, that so they might enslave these kingdoms to their own lust; be it therefore enacted and ordained by this present parliament that the office of a King in this nation shall not henceforth reside in or be exercised by any one single person; and that no one person whatsoever shall or may have or hold the office, style, dignity, power or authority of King of the said kingdoms and dominions By the abolition of the kingly office provided for in this act a most happy way is made for this nation to return to its just and ancient right of being governed by its own representatives But many months later, after Parliament itself turned into a burdensome, useless government, Oliver Cromwell turned them out into the streets on 20 April 1653 : You have sat too long for any good you have been doing lately ... Depart, I say; and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go! Which left England with no government at all. But English people shrugged and carried on. In reaction to Oliver’s coup, he remarked “there was not so much as the barking of a dog”. Indeed, a couple of days later, some wag pinned a notice on the door of the Parliament building : This House is to be Let, now unfurnished It was a vertiginous tumble into the politically unknown, perhaps the most exciting point of English history. It looked like a carte blanche. But it wasn’t. An egalitarian earthly paradise was not then constructed upon our green and pleasant land. It turns out that when you have got rid of kings and Lords and have got a government of the people, you still have to ask “what sort of people”, and the answer mainly is that the lords and royalists have slithered back into government because they know how to. So the story of 1640-1660 is a of a Noble Attempt Doomed to Failure, and no less fascinating for that. [image] Oliver Cromwell, warts and all. They pleaded with him to be King. He said no. I recommend this vast volume to anyone who wants to get away from the froth and babbles of the 21st century for a week or so, and find how altogether similar were the troubles of 350 years ago, and how much better expressed they were. All men have stood for freedom... and now the common enemy has gone you are all like men in a mist, seeking for freedom and know not where nor what it is: and those of the richer sort of you that see it are ashamed and afraid to own it, because it comes clothed in a clownish garment.... For freedom is the man that will turn the world upside down, therefore no wonder he hath enemies. Gerrard Winstanley, 1949 ...more |
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| 1841653381
| 9781841653389
| 1841653381
| 3.95
| 40
| Jul 01, 2011
| Jan 01, 2011
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My love of James Joyce, Steve Reich, the chess games of Mikhail Tal and the films of Pasolini predispose certain people to roll their eyes when I tell
My love of James Joyce, Steve Reich, the chess games of Mikhail Tal and the films of Pasolini predispose certain people to roll their eyes when I tell them I come from the working class, but it's quite true. My father had two jobs in his entire life, he was a manual labourer on the railways and a maintainance man at the local coalmine; and my mother was a factory worker and shop assistant. So you don't have to go very far back in my family's history, back to my grandparents, in fact, before you come upon a very British working class dread : fear of the workhouse. The legendary horror of The Workhouse was universal. In a way, workhouses were the British gulag. You went in, and you didn't come out except in a box. This is a great little guide to the whole thing. So - where did they come from? In the beginning the monasteries had looked after the poor but jolly King Henry VIII abolished all of those in 1536. The relief of the poor was given over to the small local communities called parishes (hence the phrase "living off the parish"). It all became chaotic. Some parishes established their own workhouses, some didn't. In 1834 an organised workhouse system was introduced. It is a universal fact of human affairs that some poor people are deserving of help and others are not deserving, because they are idle and workshy and have morally corrupt characters. There is a folk song which sums up this attitude: Of all the trades in England the beggin' is the best For when a beggar's tired, he can sit him down and rest. The point of the workhouse was to deter the undeserving poor. Life within the workhouse was contrived to that in all cases, unless you really were entirely resourceless and destitute, life on the outside would seem far preferable. How was this contrived? First, separation of people into five categories : able bodied men, infirm men, able-bodied women, infirm women, and children. Each category was housed and worked in different parts of the workhouse and did not mingle. Second, there was a rigid timetable : Rising and roll call : 6 am Breakfast and prayers : 6.30 work : 7 Dinner : noon Work : 1 pm Supper and prayers : 6 pm Bedtime : 8 pm Then, there was a rigid diet, the main component of which was bread. So: Breakfast : bread and porridge Dinner : Bread and cheese, or bread and broth. Two or three times a week, potatoes and mutton included. Supper : Bread with cheese or broth (a type of vegetable soup). But note that because food supply was put out for competitive tender amongst local suppliers, the supplier with the lowest price got the contract, and the lowest price was achieved usually by adulterating the food, so, milk would be watered down, flour would have chalk or alum added, oatmeal replaced by cheaper and less nutricious barley meal. In the workhouse you worked. For able bodied men it was often strenuous but with little practical value and was intended to add to the deterrent character of the institution. Some of the most common tasks of this type were stone breaking, corn grinding, oakum picking and bone crushing. In 1839 a survey found that just under half of the inmates of British workhouses were children (under 16). Famous one-time resident of a London workhouse : Charlie Chaplin, aged 7. Inmates could, in theory, discharge themselves at any time. That they usually didn't, and exited in the standard pine box, speaks to their utter demoralisation. Although, it is true, that some paupers were called in-and-outers as they would be constantly checking themselves out for a few days, then back in. Like modern homeless people use overnight shelters. The fascination of the horror of the workhouse impelled some middleclass Victorians to enter a workhouse in disguise, just like undercover reporters do these days. There were scandals - workhouse inmates in Andover were found to be starving to death, for instance. Well, things are better these days. We don't starve people when we put them into institutions, but we might sexually abuse them. That's progress, isn't it? The workhouses were abolished in 1930 and many of the grim buildings became part of large hospitals when the National Health Service was formed in 1948. A few miles from my house there is the Nottingham City Hospital, and the central building of that used to be the Sherwood Workhouse. My daughter Georgia was born within sight of it. Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears, While we all sup sorrow with the poor; There's a song that will linger forever in our ears; Oh hard times come again no more. Tis the song, the sigh of the weary, Hard Times, hard times, come again no more Many days you have lingered around my cabin door; Oh hard times come again no more. While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay, There are frail forms fainting at the door; Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say Oh hard times come again no more. ...more |
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| 1852853220
| 9781852853228
| 1852853220
| 3.00
| 7
| Nov 19, 2005
| Nov 19, 2005
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it was ok
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About eight years ago my car was stolen. I got a good look at the thief so the cops asked me to come down to the station and look at some photos on th
About eight years ago my car was stolen. I got a good look at the thief so the cops asked me to come down to the station and look at some photos on their computer. I described the perpetrator : about 16, maybe younger, short, white, with very blond hair. So the cop enters those details and all the kids with criminal records fitting the description who live in the Nottingham area appear on the screen. Oh my God. There were hundreds. Mugshot after mugshot. All very young, between 10 and 18, all white with blonde hair. And all… how can I say this delicately… not the prettiest boys in the playground. And they had a kind of look, as if they were all related. It could have been any one of them. These hundreds of boys all lived in the sprawling godforsaken council estates which ring Nottingham. If you never have to go there you never go there. And you never have to go there. But if you do, you see guys with tracksuits and vicious rottweiler type dogs with tattoos of spiderwebs on their necks (the guys, not the dogs), you see old mattresses and sofas piled up on the lawns, you see cardboarded windows, you see little kids all over the place, day and night. And the rest. Etc. It's the underclass. So I thought I'd read this book which is subtitled: A History of the Excluded 1880-2000. But actually it should be subtitled : A History of Sociological, Economic and Political Attitudes to the Excluded 1880-2000. It's a history of the writing there has been about this class, under its various names : the undeserving poor, the residuum, the problem families, the unemployable, and now the underclass. Welshman attaches terrific importance to the rise and fall of these labels and the theories like "the cycle of deprivation" or "social exclusion" which follow them. But I didn't get why the terminology is such a big deal, I thought all these writers and thinkers were grappling with the same intractable problem. The best parts of this dull book were some fiery quotes from previous social reformers. Here's two : Helen Bosanquet, described the underclass in 1893 as follows : Its members lacked foresight and self control, they lived entirely in the present and had little sense of the past. They were unable to remember street names and house numbers, they had a poor sense of direction and they had trouble in distinguishing left and right. Family ties were loose so that neither different generations nor siblings had much sense of mutual responsibility. As a result their lives were one incoherent jumble from beginning to end; it would be impossible to make even a connected story out of it, for every day merely repeats the mistakes, the follies anf the mishaps of yesterday; there is no development in it; all is aimless and drifting. Mr B Rowntree in 1904 wrote : Born often of a poor stock and growing up amid a degrading environment, with a slum street for an unguarded playground, receiving the legal minimum of education with no encouragement from their parents, sent into the world at 13 or 14 to drift into whatever employment comes their way, then, whether single or married, living in a poor house in a dingy street, and returning to it night by night after nine or ten hours of unskilled work which rouses neither interest nor ambition, with minds untrained to serious thought, and a horizon on which the marvels of art and science and literature have never dawned – what wonder if, in their effort to introduce some colour into the drab monotony of their lives, they fall victims to the allurements of the bookmaker or publican, or lose heart and join the ranks of those who have ceased to strive? That's good stuff. This book, though, not so much. For specialists only. ...more |
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| 0198212224
| 9780198212225
| 0198212224
| 3.75
| 8
| Jan 01, 1999
| Jan 01, 1906
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really liked it
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A review to mark the occasion of the diamond jubilee of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II On page 385 of this gripping book we find one of the greatest Ac A review to mark the occasion of the diamond jubilee of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II On page 385 of this gripping book we find one of the greatest Acts of Parliament, and certainly the most surprising. It passed the House on 17 March 1649 and the relevant bit is here: And whereas it is and hath been found by experience the the office of a King in this nation and Ireland, and to have the power thereof in any single person, is unnecessary, burdensome, and dangerous to the liberty, safety, and public interest of the people, and that for the most part, use hath been made of the regal power and prerogative to oppress and impoverish and enslave the subject; and that usually and naturally any one person in such power makes it his interest to incroach upon the just freedom and liberty of the people, and to promote the setting up of their own will and power above the laws, that so they might enslave these kingdoms to their own lust; be it therefore enacted and ordained by this present parliament that the office of a King in this nation shall not henceforth reside in or be exercised by any one single person; and that no one person whatsoever shall or may have or hold the office, style, dignity, power or authority of King of the said kingdoms and dominions By the abolition of the kingly office provided for in this act a most happy way is made for this nation to return to its just and ancient right of being governed by its own representatives This was followed later the same day by the abolition of the House of Lords and on 19 May 1649 by an Act declaring England to be a Commonwealth or Free State. So, take heart, fellow republicans*, it can be done! Now, what happened after this exciting turn of events is of the utmost interest and I shall continue the story in an upcoming review. *Americans will note that the word has different meanings on each side of the Atlantic. ...more |
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| 0140137327
| 9780140137323
| 0140137327
| 4.12
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really liked it
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Nearly 400 years ago, from the midst of the English Revolution, I hear the same anger at the despoilation and hooliganism of their rich ravening ruler
Nearly 400 years ago, from the midst of the English Revolution, I hear the same anger at the despoilation and hooliganism of their rich ravening rulers as I do today, in the incoherent but passionate Occupy movements, and, if I'm honest, in the outraged and outrageous screechings of the tea party - on all sides there is the sense of trying, pitifully, to raise up a single skinny fist and shake it and howl This is not the way things were supposed to be! So here are the words of an Englishman who thought the same in 1649. His name was Gerrard Winstanley and he wasn't a Leveller, he was a True Leveller. ****** In the beginning of Time, the great Creator Reason, made the Earth to be a Common Treasury, to preserve Beasts, Birds, Fishes, and Man, the lord that was to govern this Creation; for Man had Domination given to him, over the Beasts, Birds, and Fishes; but not one word was spoken in the beginning, That one branch of mankind should rule over another. And the Reason is this, Every single man, Male and Female, is a perfect Creature of himself; The Earth (which was made to be a Common Treasury of relief for all, both Beasts and Men) was hedged in to In-closures by the teachers and rulers, and the others were made Servants and Slaves: And that Earth that is within this Creation made a Common Store-house for all, is bought and sold, and kept in the hands of a few, whereby the great Creator is mightily dishonoured, as if he were a respector of persons, delighting in the comfortable Livelihoods of some, and rejoycing in the miserable povertie and straits of others. From the beginning it was not so. Money must not any longer....be the great god that hedges in some and hedges out others, for money is but part of the Earth; and after our work of the Earthly Community is advanced, we must make use of gold or silver as we do of other metals but not to buy or sell. Break in pieces quickly the Band of particular Property, disown this oppressing Murder, Opression and Thievery of Buying and Selling of Land, owning of landlords and paying of Rents and give thy Free Consent to make the Earth a Common Treasury without grumbling.....that all may enjoy the benefit of their Creation. And hereby thou wilt honour thy Father and thy Mother : Thy Father, which is the spirit of community, that made all and that dwels in all. Thy Mother, which is the Earth, that brought us all forth: That as a true Mother, loves all her children. Therefore do not hinder the Mother Earth from giving all her children suck, by thy Inclosing into particular hands, and holding up that cursed Bondage of Inclosure by thy Power. Was the earth made to preserve a few covetous, proud men to live at ease, and for them to bag and barn up the treasures of the Earth from others, that these may beg or starve in a fruitful land; or was it made to preserve all her children? Gerrard Winstanley & others The True Levellers Standard Advanced - April, 1649 The New Law of Righteousness, 1649 A Declaration from the Poor Oppressed People of England Directed to all that Call Themselves or are Called Lords of Manors, 1649 [image] ...more |
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