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Thursday 31 March 2022

Think About It 073: BRAD BIGELOW

 
But the most common and by far most effective way things get forgotten is inertia.  Forgetting is the human condition.  Dementia is only noticeable because it’s such an aggressive form of forgetting.  Remembering takes effort, and if no one makes the effort, the inevitable result is that people and what they accomplished in their lives are forgotten.
 
'The Laughing Cavalier,' by Allan Turpin (1969)
[Neglected Books, 20 July 2020]

 
 
Use the link below to visit Neglected Books, the consistently interesting 'forgotten literature' website operated by North American blogger and editor BRAD BIGELOW:
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Thursday 24 March 2022

The Write Advice 164: CATHERINE JINKS

 
I can't say I'm the sort of person who's really inspired by other people's writing.  I'm more likely to be inspired by a place, or a film, or a story, or a face, or a piece of music — those are the things that trigger inspiration, for me.  Moreover, I like and admire a vast number of books, not all of them because the writing is spectacular.  You can enjoy a book, and return to it repeatedly, without necessarily wanting to emulate the author.  Sometimes, you enjoy and revere it because you could never hope to imitate it; it's quite beyond you.
      That said, I have to acknowledge that there are a number of writers whose expertise fills me with a deep and abiding sense of the most profound satisfaction.  They never lag, they never put a foot wrong, they are absolute masters of the written word.  Evelyn Waugh is (or was) one of them; his dialogue beggars belief.  Jane Austen was another.  Somerset Maugham's style was practically flawless.  The work of these authors has a clarity, a precision, an elegance that makes it deceptively simple, with a simplicity that almost no one else can ever hope to attain.
       Whenever I read it, I come away knowing that I have to work harder.  Which is inspiration of a sort, I suppose.
 
'Advice for Business Writers From a Master Storyteller' (The Business Writer Compilation No.1) [date unspecified]
 
 
Use the link below to visit the website of Australian novelist and historian CATHERINE JINKS:

 
 
 
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Thursday 17 March 2022

Words for the Music 022: PHIL JUDD

 
PHIL JUDD, c 1974
 
 
 
 
 SWEET DREAMS
SPLIT ENZ
from the 1976 Mushroom LP  
Second Thoughts
 
 
 
 
 SWEET DREAMS


 
Cunning as a conman
Shrewd as a liar
I went weak at the knees
The first time I saw you
Deep inside, day to day ritual
Oh give it a try
Do what you will
Look out now
 
But I've seen it all before
It's nothing new to me
A living legend
Like fifteen million other
Angels
 
Try as I do
I can never get through
I only got as far
As the backseat of my car
And it's all very well
To cry now
Yes it's all very well
To lie now
 
Well I'm wasting my time
Clutching at straws
You know damn well
That what's mine is yours
A rich man or poor
Duchess or whore
I haven't got time for
Either or
 
I can't get over it
Thank God
The storm's passed over
I'll settle down I guess
Sweet dreams
Every once in a while
Sweet dreams
Every once in a while
 
Mantovani
Martini and money
I fell for your etiquette
The first time we ever met
You really socked it to me
With your finger snap rhythm
Look out now
Break up
 
You've got it all figured out
Ten to one I lose
Drop your lover's noose
And swing me
Cruelly deprived
I don't know how you've survived
Romantic theories
Of the pixies and faeries
Looking in retrospect
Seldom wrong but never correct
Emotions are aired
Like carpets out to dry
 
I can't get over it
Thank God
The storm's passed over
I'll settle down I guess
Sweet dreams
Every once in a while
Sweet dreams
Every once in a while
Sweet dreams
Sweet dreams
Sweet dreams
Every once in a while
 
Well you wouldn't know me
From a bar of soap
I'm part of the furniture
An ornament, a rocking chair
But it's all very well
To cry now
Sweet dreams
Every once in a while
 
 
 
Words and music 
Philip Raymond Judd
 
© 1976 Mushroom Records Australia
 
 
 
 
I first became aware of Phil Judd via The Swingers, the band he formed in New Zealand in April 1979 whose song Counting The Beat became an instant hit on Australasian radio two years later.  Its gloriously hook-laden melody was balanced by an equally infectious rhythm track and lyrics that relied heavily on repetition without ever sliding into formulaic banality.  The track remains a legitimate trans-Tasman classic and one of the more memorable pop singles of its era.
 
But as great as Counting The Beat was, I didn't fully come to appreciate the talent of Phil Judd until a friend introduced me to Second Thoughts, the 're-made' LP by New Zealand art-rock band Split Enz released in 1976.  Judd was a founding member of that earlier groundbreaking group, the guitarist and songwriter primarily responsible for giving it what was, in the first half of the creatively adventurous 1970s, a completely unique look, feel and sound.  Judd left the band for good in 1978, replaced by Neil Finn whose more accessible style of songwriting would see Split Enz rack up many hits throughout the early 1980s prior to Finn breaking away in 1985 to form the even more successful Crowded House.
 
Second Thoughts and its 1975 predecessor, the denser and darker Mental Notes, remain among my favourite rock LPs to this day.  And Sweet Dreams typifies what makes them such engaging works of art — the sheer inventiveness of the songwriting, with a melody that shifts from acoustic folk-rock to vaudeville novelty tune to grand opera all in the space of one stirring five minute opus.  Judd's lyrics are equally inventive, employing imagery (lines like 'Drop your lover's noose/And swing me' and 'Emotions are aired/Like carpets out to dry' still floor me to this day) that's as arresting as it is darkly witty and, courtesy of his idiosyncratic vocal style and formidable arranging skills, as poignant as it is occasionally unsettling.  
 
Sweet Dreams is as far removed from the slickly produced New Wave of later Split Enz hits like I Got You as you can get and, in my far from expert opinion, infinitely superior to anything the band released following Judd's departure.  Had the original incarnation of Split Enz hailed from Britain or North America rather than from what was then the relatively isolated (but culturally thriving) island nation of New Zealand — a situation that did not prevent the Australian media from describing the band as 'Australia's own Split Enz' because its members happened to be based in Melbourne for much of their careers — then I have no doubt they would now be considered as influential as King Crimson, Pink Floyd, Frank Zappa or Sparks.  
 
Unfortunately, that sort of recognition eluded the Judd incarnation of the group.  As is the case with most music that's truly groundbreaking rather than created to capitalize on a pre-existing trend, neither Mental Notes nor Second Thoughts sold nearly as well as they deserved to upon their respective releases.  (That may have been a side effect of Second Thoughts being a commercially inspired re-fashioning of the band's debut LP, produced by Roxy Music guitarist Phil Manzanera in London — a combination of some of the more accessible material from that first album plus some new songs designed to appeal to a more mainstream audience.  That said, Second Thoughts works perfectly well as an album in its own right, with its opening track Late Last Night a particular standout.)  But Judd's early music was never really mainstream in the way the industry defines that term today.  It has the rare distinction, achieved by only a handful of artists worldwide, of existing as a genre unto itself.
 
The good news is that Phil Judd is still with us and still creating excellent and compelling music in his home studio in suburban Eltham, music that's thankfully lost none of its jaw-dropping originality or its ability to startle, delight and challenge the listener.  He's considered a national treasure by many of his Kiwi countrymen and rightly so.  Sadly, his career proves the point that true originality seldom receives the attention it deserves from an industry that grows more cliché-reliant by the day.  There's nothing the least bit clichéd about Phil Judd's songwriting.  It's as nuanced and complex as the man himself, a testimony to his resilience as a performer and his seemingly unlimited capacity to make artistic statements that are as bold as they are individually memorable. 
 
 
 
Use the links below to visit the Bandcamp site of New Zealand-born, Australian-based songwriter, guitarist, composer and equally gifted visual artist PHIL JUDD and the PhilJuddOFFICIAL YouTube page where you can view tracks by Split Enz, Phil Judd solo, The Swingers and his later 1980s band Schnell Fenster:
 
 
 

 
 
 MENTAL NOTES
SPLIT ENZ
© 1975 Mushroom/Festival Records Australia
Cover painting:  
Phil Judd 
 
 


SECOND THOUGHTS
SPLIT ENZ
© 1976 Mushroom/Festival Records Australia
 
 
 
 
Special thanks to everyone who takes the time to upload music to YouTube.  Your efforts are appreciated by music lovers everywhere.
 
 
 
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Thursday 10 March 2022

The Write Advice: CARTOON 015

 



© Charles Barsotti + Cartoonbank.com
 
 
 
Use the link below to read a 2013 interview with North American cartoonist CHARLES BARSOTTI (1933–2014) posted on The Comics Journal website:
 
 
 
 
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The Write Advice: CARTOON 007  

Thursday 3 March 2022

The Guru of Love (2003) by SAMRAT UPADHYAY


 
Rupa Publications India, 2003

 
 
 
 
She got up, rummaged in the cupboard, and pulled out a large sheet of paper, the corners curling, and handed it to Ramchandra. The drawing was of a large mansion, and the caption, at the bottom, read PANDEY PALACE. The two people standing above the house were labeled Grandfather and Grandmother. Their faces were clearly unhappy; drooping curves were drawn as their lips. Above Grandfather's head she'd written 'The Guru of Money.' Alongside the mansion was a smaller house, with broken windows (Sanu had neatly cut the windows in half, with jagged lines showing their panes), and a door that seemed to hang on the hinges. Underneath was written 'The Archarya Hut.' The four people above the hut, who reflected her own family, had smiling faces, and above Ramchandra's head was written, 'The Guru of Love.' 
 
 
 
 
The Novel:  Ramchandra is a mathematics teacher living in Kathmandu with his wife Goma, thirteen year old daughter Sanu and nine year old son Rakesh.  A poor man who divides his time between teaching at a local school and coaching private students in his cramped and crumbling apartment, Ramchandra nevertheless considers himself to be more or less contented with his life.  Although he, Goma and the children lack a bathroom and a telephone and live in Jaisideval, one of the city's less salubrious neighborhoods, he still takes pride in the fact that his slightly older wife chose him to be her husband when, as the eldest daughter of the wealthy and well-connected Pandey family, she literally had her choice of eligible suitors.  Despite their occasional squabbles over money and her parents' deliberate rudeness to him, he and Goma remain a devoted couple whose relationship is, for the most part, a stable and successful one. 
 
 
This changes when Ramchandra takes on a new private pupil named Malati, an attractive girl in her twenties who is determined to improve herself by passing the exam that will see her rewarded with a School Leaving Certificate –– a qualification that she hopes will gain her entry to a business college and eventually enable her to work as a secretary.  Although he fights it for a long time, Ramchandra is unable to resist his overwhelming attraction to Malati, finding himself captivated as much by her aura of sadness and mystery as he is by the girl's youth and undeniable beauty.  Learning that she's a single mother with a baby daughter named Rachana does nothing to dampen his ardour.   His lust for Malati, which he finally satisfies after failing to do so in an abandoned temple where they're attacked by a troupe of monkeys who steal the girl's clothes and scratch her face, becomes inextricably linked with his desire to ensure she passes her exams so she can finally escape the hovel she shares with her vindictive stepmother.

 
Yet Ramchandra is not without guilt regarding his betrayal of Goma, blaming his behaviour on the fact that something must be wrong deep inside him which only she, his wife, can help him to identify.  With this in mind, he plucks up his courage and confesses his adultery to Goma, resulting in her taking Sanu and Rakesh to live in Pandey Palace, the luxurious colonial-era mansion owned by her rich and snobbish parents who continually remind her of his inability to provide her with a decent house or even a servant of her own.

 
Ramchandra, filled with remorse now that he's ostensibly ended his affair with the equally guilt-ridden Malati, tries to explain his actions to Goma, only to be rebuffed while he becomes an object of scorn to his daughter Sanu who, in less confusing times, scolded her wealthy and pretentious grandparents for treating him, as she once angrily put it, "like a dog."  After much pleading, Goma agrees to return to the apartment in Jaisideval where she cooks and runs the household as before, her one stipulation being that she will no longer share a bed with her unfaithful husband.

 
Things come to a head, however, when Malati is thrown out by her stepmother after being called a slut and appears at the school where Ramchandra teaches to inform him of what has happened.  Unable to accept the thought of his former lover becoming a prostitute in order to support herself, he begs Malati to visit him at home that night, by which time he expects to have found a solution to her problem.  The solution comes not from him, however, but from Goma who insists, in her stubbornly practical way, that the girl and her child must come to live with them.   "Don't you see?"  she asks when Ramchandra protests and accuses her of trying to punish him.   "You've found something in her you haven't found in me.  You have to decide for yourself exactly what that is.  And the only way to do so is by being honest, by living with her, as if you were husband and wife… You need to find out what it is you crave.  So this is the only way."   The next day, after many assurances from Ramchandra that Goma will accept the arrangement because she herself suggested it, Malati moves in with the Archarya family.   "Will you forgive me, bhauku?"  the frightened girl asks after meekly approaching her savior in her kitchen.   "I don't have that power," Goma tells her.  "You'll have to forgive yourself."

 
While living together proves to be extremely awkward for everyone, it gradually reveals the underlying wisdom of what, on the surface, appeared to be a very foolish notion on the part of Goma.  Their close proximity –– Ramchandra and Malati share the bedroom with the latter's daughter Rachana, while Goma sleeps in a separate room with her own children –– revives their affair but also creates new problems for Ramchandra, among the most perplexing of which are his wife's changed attitude toward him and the terrible injuries he fears he's done to her pride and sense of identity.  But far from being crushed by the new arrangement, Goma copes magnificently with it.  She stops being sad and, to her husband's surprise, does not walk in on him and Malati making love or angrily order the girl to leave.  She even arranges a family outing to a Hindu temple to pray for Malati to pass her exams and, later, insists the girl accompany them to dinner at her parents' house.  Ramchandra, in the meantime, becomes an object of ridicule to his neighbours and fellow teachers, who tease him about taking a 'second wife' as news of his unusual situation spreads throughout a city now poised for the political coup that will see the nation's hated one party 'Panchayat' political system replaced by its first true multi-party democracy.  
 
 
But all is not as it seems with Malati who, in time, reunites with Amrit, the already married father of her baby who seduced her when she was a schoolgirl and then callously abandoned her after learning she was pregnant.  What was once the burning if self-damning passion of Ramchandra's life gradually but inevitably cools, bringing him to the realization that the special qualities he thought he saw in the girl were the products of her youth, her elusiveness and her unanticipated availability.  His doubts about Goma and her decision to marry so late –– doubts which have plagued him on and off since he was first shown her photograph by his mother so many years earlier –– also played a role, he's now prepared to admit, in drawing him toward Malati.

 
Only when his relationship with the girl is truly over and he and Goma are once again living in their cramped apartment following the deaths of Mr and Mrs Pandey does Ramchandra finally learn the truth about his wife's past.  Goma, it seems, wanted him from the moment he arrived at Pandey Palace to serve as tutor to her younger sister.  So great was her need for him, she explains, that she refused to eat until her parents agreed to drop their objections to the idea of him becoming her suitor.   "There was something about your face –– your belief in the world, as if you viewed it with an innocence that would drown all sorrows.  At the same time you looked tired, almost wise beyond your years.  I was smitten,"  she adds with a smile.   "I used to walk past the living room just to see your face."   In time they resume their old routine, Ramchandra's indiscretion forgotten as democracy comes to Nepal and, in time, Goma starts a sewing business which enables them to build the decent house her parents always wanted her to have.


Mariner Books US, 2004
 
 
Although Ramchandra is identified in his daughter's drawing as 'The Guru of Love,' it is really the patient, level-headed Goma whose actions show her to be worthy of this moniker.  With grace and determination she sets out to teach her confused husband the error of his ways, treating him at times like an over-indulged child and at others with the sort of dispassionate laxity he finds at first bewildering and, in time, maddening.  Ramchandra is not a cruel or heartless man, but someone who finds himself in an absurd situation he can neither control nor escape, the victim of a mid-life crisis which, as he tells Goma more than once, he requires her support and assistance to understand and emerge from.  His predicament can also be seen as a metaphor for the turbulent political situation in Nepal in the lead-up to the abolition of the Panchayat system in April 1990 –– a system symbolized by the selfish attitudes of Mr and Mrs Pandey and the 'palace' they call home while so many in Kathmandu struggle to feed, house and educate themselves.  Goma's decision to sell the house following their deaths represents a further symbolic break with the past, a new beginning for herself and Ramchandra who, after much striving, regains her trust and respect along with that of their children.  Malati, in the meantime, loses her former power over him, becoming the second wife of the recently divorced Amrit who, as a shopkeeper confides to Ramchandra after he drops in to visit her one last time, finds it impossible to keep his hands off other women.

 
The Guru of Love could easily have been titled The Guru of Wisdom.  Perhaps the most telling moment in what is a quietly revelatory book is a scene in which Ramchandra informs Goma that a colleague of his has been seen flirting with a female student.  Goma defends the colleague's behavior, reminding her husband that the man may not have been able to help himself.  "I didn't say I'm supporting him,"  she adds when Ramchandra expresses surprise at her leniency.  "I just said we can't judge people without knowing what's ailing them."   The heart wants what it wants, this statement implies, even when wanting it has the capacity to rob us of everything we value in life.  Goma is wise to let her husband decide his own course of action rather than attempting to impose her own desires on him.  What truly loves you, she instinctively seems to understand, will always return if you can somehow find the courage to set it free.  As Upadhyay himself put it in a 2011 interview:

…I don’t know whether that’s actually a Buddhist gesture on Goma’s part, to do that, but it is a very loving gesture, because she could have easily said, 'Well, I’m not going to have anything of this, I’m done, I’m out,' but then that would have made it a very predictable novel for me. For her to do that was a challenge to her husband. It was a very strong challenge. 'Okay, you want it? Here, you can have it, and now what?'… She’s a higher being than Ramchandra is, and I think she proves herself at that point –– someone who’s able to move beyond the predictable emotions, which is part of Buddhist philosophy. The Buddhists say, all right, you have your emotions, but so what? There’s a higher nature that you can aspire to.
 
A higher nature indeed.  The Guru of Love is more than just a fascinating contemporary novel written with tremendous skill, verve, intelligence and compassion.  It is a transcendent work of literature which manages to be supremely entertaining while succeeding admirably at the difficult task of challenging if not destroying clichéd Western ideas of 'Eastern exoticism.'  Ramchandra and Goma may be Nepali, but they are first and foremost human beings, making them no more 'exotic' in their reactions to what proves to be a major but not insurmountable threat to their happiness than any other human being. 
 
 
 

 
SAMRAT UPADHYAY, c 2011

 
 
 
 
 
The Writer: The following biographical statement appears on the website of Samrat Upadhyay.  It is re-posted here for information purposes only and remains the exclusive copyright-protected property of its author:

 

Samrat Upadhyay’s first book, the short story collection Arresting God in Kathmandu (Houghton Mifflin, 2001) has been translated into French and Greek and was the recipient of a Whiting Writers’ Award as well as a pick for the 2001 Barnes & Noble Discover Great Writers Program. Upadhyay’s stories have been read live on National Public Radio and published widely as well as in Scribner's Best of the Writing Workshops and Best American Short Stories 1999.

 

Upadhyay’s novel The Guru of Love (Houghton Mifflin, 2003) was named a New York Times Notable Book of the Year 2003, a San Franciso Chronicle Best Book of 2003, and a BookSense 76 collection. The novel was also a finalist for the 2004 Kiriyama Prize, and has been translated into several European languages.
 

 

Upadhyay’s story collection The Royal Ghosts (Houghton Mifflin, 2006) won the 2007 Asian American Literary Award, the Society of Midland Authors Book Award, and was declared a Best of Fiction in 2006 by the Washington Post. The book was also a finalist for the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award from Ireland and for the Ohioana Book Award.
 

 

His second novel Buddha's Orphans (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2010) has been called 'powerful' and 'beautifully told' by Publishers Weekly, which gave it a starred review. The novel has been translated into German and Czech. It was also longlisted for the DSC prize in India.

 

Upadhyay has also co-edited the anthology Secret Places: New Writing from Nepal (University of Hawai’i Press), published in Winter 2001 as a special issue of Manoa magazine.
 

 

His novel The City Son was published by Soho Press in 2014. It has been shortlisted for the PEN Open Book Award.

 

He is the Martha C Kraft Professor of Humanities at Indiana University.

 
 
 
 
Use the links below to visit the website of North American-Nepali writer SAMRAT UPADHYAY and read an interview with him conducted by CAROL POLSGROVE:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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