Every revolution has its counterrevolution - that is a sign the revolution is for real.

The art of subtly is not dead! Campbell Street, Hobart. November 2010.

A couple of books to tackle this week, one a sombre reflection on Poland’s troubled history through the twentieth century; the second a riotous romp through the Edwardian era that touches on every perversion known to man!

The former is Mercedes-Benz, by Pawel Huelle. Huelle is one of the most eminent modern Polish writers. Mercedes-Benz has an unrelenting narrative that drives (literally) through the defining moments of modern Polish history.

Truthfully, you have never read sentences this long, but the style does complement the tale. Constructed in the format of a descriptive letter to Czech writer Bohumil Hrabal, the book fuses the challenge of driving lessons in the early-1990's Gdańsk, with the broader story of Pawel's father, grandfather and the fate of Poland fused into one.

It really is a wonderful fusion of autobiography, history and fictional creation. It is well worth a look.

The second book is The Vesuvius Club by Mark Gatiss, who you may know better as David/Val/Mickey/Brian/Hilary/Tony/Sheila/Phil/Mr. Chinnery/Les McQueen from the black as midnight but nonetheless outstanding League of Gentlemen television series.

Like that TV show, The Vesuvius Club is not subtle. Revolving around the perversions and gothic excesses of Edwardian London (and Naples), the protagonist of the tale is the heroic Lucifer Box: an impenitent narcissist, artistic dandy, who combines his artistic endeavours, debauched lifestyle with a career in the secret service.

Following an unmentionable indiscretion Lucifer has been blackmailed into His Majesty's service as a secret agent. Given the vivid descriptions of innumerable indiscretion through the novel, one shudders what that original indiscretion must have been!

Very much a genre-fusing parody with all amps turned up to 11, this book is a riot. Romance, action, adventure (drugs, money, buggery, midgets, and bad puns), this book has the lot.

If you like a laugh, and have little time for subtly in your comedy, read it now.

Comments

Roddy said…

In my youth it was a challenge.

12 November 2010 at 21:06

Kris McCracken said…

What was a challange?

15 November 2010 at 10:25

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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