Pupil Barrister

Author: Robert (Page 153 of 327)

Shadow Cities


There is much to admire in André Aciman’s Shadow Cities, a ‘classic’ New York Review of Books essay.  For Radhika Jones, it is the way the writing evokes her own memories of New York.  As for me, I like the concept of overlaying imagined cities and long-lost viewpoints:

New York is my home precisely because it is a place from where I can begin to be elsewhere—an analogue city, a surrogate city, a shadow city that allows me to naturalize and neutralize this terrifying, devastating, unlivable megalopolis by letting me think it is something else … Straus Park allowed me to place more than one film over the entire city of New York, the way certain guidebooks of Rome do. For each photograph of an ancient ruin comes a series of colored transparencies. When you place the transparency over the picture of a ruin the missing or fallen parts suddenly reappear, showing you how the Forum and the Coliseum must have looked in their heyday, or how Rome looked in the Middle Ages, and then in the late Renaissance, and so on. But when you lift all the plastic sheets, all you see are today’s ruins.
I didn’t want to see the real New York. I’d go backward in time and uncover an older New York, as though New York, like so many other cities on the Mediterranean, had an ancient side that was less menacing, that was not so difficult to restore, that had more past than present, and that corresponded to the old-fashioned world I think I come from. Hence, my obsession with things that are old and defunct and that seep through like ancient cobblestones and buried rails from under renewed coats of asphalt and tar. Sealed-off ancient firehouses, ancient stables turned into garages, ghost buildings awaiting demolition, old movie theaters converted into Baptist churches, old marketplaces that are now lost, subway stops that are ghost stations today … Going to Straus Park was like traveling elsewhere in time.

This is a marvellous evocation of why I enjoy much of the literature and imagery that I do.  I have discussed the idea of overlaying of invisible worlds onto a physical space quite a lot on this blog.
To wit: The human ideas imposed onto China Mieville’s The City & The City, and the secret Londons described in Un Lun Dun and Kraken; The transnational societies in Cory Doctorow’s For The Win; the myriad wifi networks on Exmouth Market; my idea for a London Underground game, marvellously realised by Chromaroma; and overlaying a fantasy narrative onto Edinburgh in Ghost.
Releated: there is the leaving of a digital breadcrumbs trail we saw in Stalking Shawn; andPulling echoes of the past into the present space in [murmur];
And finally, there is the fascination with the organic nature of cities: Buildings in a state of constant alteration and repurpose (the Free Word Centre where I now work is one such building); Medieval cities that persist in the twenty-first century, like Fes; The way buildings can take on a personality, when plugged in; the way a city can seem to be a jungle; and buildings that make you feel as though you are already a part of history, such is the weight of their (future) iconic status.
 

A Tale of Two Authors

Compare how two authors deal with book reviews that they believe to be defamatory.
First, Chris McGrath, author of “The Attempted Murder of God: Hidden Science You Really Need to Know” took blogger Vaughan Jones to the High Court over a review that Jones posted on the Amazon website, of all places.  The judgement on whether this case can proceed is expected today.
Historian Niall Ferguson was similarly upset by a negative review.  His book Civilisation was eviscerated by Pankaj Mishra in the London Review of Books (a much more credible and prominent platform than Amazon’s product review pages).  Ferguson felt he had been defamed as a racist.  However, in contrast to Chris McGrath, Ferguson chose a different forum to express his grievance and demand satisfaction – the letters page.
This approach – fighting words with more words – is precisely the kind of counter-speech I advocated in my ‘Way of The Blogs‘ piece for the Guardian a couple of years ago.  It offers a form of redress to the aggrieved person, while avoiding censorship, and it is also much cheaper.  I think it is a much classier way of dealing with critics, than hauling them down to the Royal Courts of Justice.

Put Your Eco Money Where Your Mouth Is

Wind turbines
When it comes to the environment, there is an awful lot of rhetoric about how ordinary consumers should take action to change the way businesses operate. By choosing green products or services, the hope is that the capitalist system will eventually reward green products. The companies that work with, rather than against, our fragile environment, will eventually make money.
This kind of incrementalism is noble, but it often seems ineffectual and weak. People have so many decisions to make every day about what to purchase, and the ‘green’ option is often the more expensive choice. In these austere times, it is naive to expect environmentally friendly products to prevail in the marketplace, by virtue of their sheer moral strength.
With this in mind, the Ecobond from Ecotricity is – if you will excuse the apt but unimaginative metaphor – a breath of fresh air. The company has green credentials (and a reassuring green logo, too) but the Ecobond is a straightforward financial proposition. Ecotricity is raising money to build a new tranche of wind farms, and is asking investors to contribute to the enterprise. They say they will pay 6% per year for four years on your investment, then return the capital to you at the end of the term.
I am not an energy analyst or a financial advisor, but in the short term, a business that makes money selling power to the UK national grid must surely be a reliable investment.

Update

I now recall that a couple of years ago I blogged about 1BOG (‘One Block Off The Grid’) in San Fransisco, a form of ‘For Profit Activism’:

Its almost as if those people who are actually spending the money to make this work are participating in a leisure activity, rather than an everyday participation in a market that could sustain the local economy.

Does this apply to Ecobonds, I wonder?

On 'Authority' and Reality TV Judges

Michel Roux Jnr and Gregg Wallace, judges.

Michel Roux Jnr and Gregg Wallace, judges.


The new series of Masterchef: The Professionals, which began this evening, has reminded me of why I like the Masterchef franchise.  The judges’ feedback is in an entirely different league to that offered on the Saturday night ratings-chasers, Strictly Come Dancing and The X-Factor.
Watching Greg Wallace and Monica Gelati give their comments on ten different duck and leak dishes, I was reminded of David Foster Wallace’s fantastic ‘Present Tense‘, a Harper’s review of A Dictionary of Modern American Usage. In the long essay, Wallace takes on the conundrum of ‘authority’ when applied to matters that are ultimately subjective, such as the use of language.  He concluded that the author of the book has earned his authority by showing the breadth of his reading and thinking on the subject at hand.
I see a similar earned authority on Masterchef.  Monica Gelati and Michel Roux, Jnr come to the series with quite a significant amount of (shall we say) ‘establishment’ authority, because they run Michelin starred restaurants.  But the awarding of Michelin stars is a controversial affair and is ultimately based on the opinions of a small number of elite restaurant critics.  Why should we, the hoi polloi who watch Monday Night telly, trust what they say?  Masterchef is enjoyable and interesting because Gelati, Roux and Wallace (along with John Torode, who presents/judges the public and celebrity versions of the show) never take their own authority for granted.  Each piece of feedback is explained and justified in quite a detailed manner.  Even though cookery deals primarily with taste and smells, the audience finds that they agree with and endorse the (subjective) opinions of the judges.  We all learn something about cooking as a result, and the show gives us insights we can take back to our own kitchens and dinner tables.
Compare this with Strictly Come Dancing, where the feedback is often extremely generic (“You know what, I really liked that dance, Audley!”), emotive comments based on the person, not the dance being judged (“Anita, you’re such a nice person!”) or riddle with soundbites – Flamboyant Bruno Tonioli’s orgasmic responses seem pre-prepared and designed to entertain, rather than inform.  Craig Revel-Horwood and chief judge Len Goodman attempt to comment on the holds or the footwork, but there is scant explanation of how the dances are supposed to be performed, which leaves the audience on the outside of the experience.
X-Factor, of course, is hideously compromised by the fact that the ‘judges’ are also the mentors of the competing singers.  Their feedback is tainted from the outset, and – within the context of the show – they lack the ‘authority’ to comment on any given act.  This is before we take into account the deeply cynical and disingenuous feedback that implies that the terrible Frankie Coccoza is even in the same league as the astonishing Misha B.
The fact that the judges in Strictly and X-Factor wield their authority without constantly ‘earning’ it accounts, I think, for the disparity between what they say should happen, and the verdict that the paying audience delivers.  It’s a funny paradox that Masterchef, which is run in an entirely authoritarian manner by the judges, still manages to involve its audience more than the shows that allow viewers to vote for the winner.
Misha B, in a different league

Misha B, in a different league

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2026 Robert Sharp

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑