“One young boy, asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, a fireman or pilot or such, answered: "Alive.”

Jen on the beach. Ellis Beach, Far North Queensland. April 2021.

The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family and Defiance During the Blitz by Erik Larson

There has with no doubt been a great deal of work and fine scholarship put into this book, and to that, I will credit Larson. Yet too often, I find that anything that touches upon Churchill drifts too easily into the hagiographic, which I do not understand.

There is plenty here that showcases the flaws of the man and his temperament - consider the impetuous way with which he pursued the frankly ridiculous idea of air landmines (at who knows what opportunity costs) or the taste for luxury in a time of extreme deprivation. In total, are we really supposed to overlook these flaws because of... why exactly? That he was prone to cry?

I confess that I don't get it. I found the boorish tales of his family living it up while men were dying in huge numbers; the British public was going without, and the Empire's colonial subjects (of whom Churchill's views are decidedly suspect) were starving to death in the millions yet more evidence of his obnoxiousness.

I note that we didn't get to see whether the family were quite as concerned with the Bengali Famine - in which up to four million Bengalis starved to death as a direct result of a decision made by dear Winston - as they were with what dress, brooch or fob watch one was to wear at the next party.

Bitter, Moi? Indeed I am. If you're going to do warts and all, one shouldn't flinch. The drunkenness, arrogance, misogyny, racism, bullying, self-centredness and dictatorial manner are presented here more as amusing deviations from greatness, whereas they seem to be the measure of the man to my mind. A fondness for aggression and risk-taking is all very well when it is someone else doing the dying for you.

Forgive me; I'm just not that interested in the gifts that he gave to his wife or who his son (or his wife) happened to be fucking at this or that party at the time.

⭐ ⭐ 1/2

Comments

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

But when the strong were too weak to hurt the weak, the weak had to be strong enough to leave.

Can you believe that it is time for Theme Thursday already? Today we are not talking chocolate , toddlers , mess or ignominy . No, today we're dealing with ANIMAL . Now I could have posted a picture of a possum, numbat, wombat, wallaby or any other furry killing machine that roams our fair isle, but I figure that I'd use a far more deadly creature as an example of an animal . Some people - I know them as fools - have chosen to embrace that highfalutin idea that human beans are for some ungodly reason superior to animals. Of course, what these imbeciles seem to forget is that were are simple animals ourselves ! Anyone with a baby, toddler, teenage boy or Queenslander in their household could tell you this. Look at Henry [above]. One chocolate frog in the back of the car on a sunny day and all of a sudden it's Elagabalus meets Bacchus for a quick shandy in the Serengeti and we're down on all fours carrying on like a cat in heat. Fair dinkum, anyone who chooses to ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

Search This Blog