The Media Is The Message

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Musak fills the vast void with soulless sound, like a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. The seductive blandishments of advertisers like sweet poison fill our heads. To purchase is to exist. Consume, only consume be part of the great consumer boom.

Endless soaps, beautiful people flickering like ghosts across the wide screen. With a flick of a switch the mirage vanishes leaving us bereft. Never mind there is so much choice, no need to switch off the TV, we can float forever in a world of entertainment and a myriad shopping channels. The nice lady, the one with the barbey doll looks and her head filled with straw tells us to keep tuned lest we miss something exciting.

No time to think. Thank god for 24 hour entertainment for it kills the pain, stifles the nagging doubts that asail even the stupidest ass on occasions. But, when the lights go out what do you do with the thoughts which crowd unbidden into your head?

Book Review: The Poems And Prose Of Ernest Dowson With A Memoir By Arthur Symons

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I can not quite recollect when I first came across the poet Ernest Christopher Dowson. Perhaps it was while listening to one of the many recorded anthologies of verse which have delighted me over the years. Possibly I read his “They are not long the weeping and the laughter” while browsing through the Oxford Book of English Verse. Be that as it may, I was delighted to come across The Poems And Prose Of Ernest Dowson With A Memoir By Arthur Symons as a free download in the Amazon Kindle store, http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B000JQUZY6?ie=UTF8&ref_=oce_digital_UK.

Dowson was born in 1867 and died in 1900 at the tragically young age of 30. During his short life he produced some of the most moving poetry in the English language including his often quoted “They are not Long”

“They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,

Love and desire and hate;

I think they have no portion in us after

We pass the gate.

 

They are not long, the days of wine and roses,

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for a while, then closes

Within a dream.”

Indeed Dowson’s life was not long which serves to add poignancy to this beautiful poem. Whoever said that poetry has to be complex in order to be meaningful was wrong. As with “They are not long” verse can be a mere few lines and yet stir the emotions in a manner not achieved by more lengthy poems.

The brevity of existence and love is a constant theme in Dowson’s work. Take, for example his poem, April Love which touchingly describes the fleetingness of an affair

“We have walked in Love’s land a little way,

We have learnt his lesson a little while,

And shall we not part at the end of day,

With a sigh, a smile?

A little while in the shine of the sun,

We were twined together, joined lips, forgot

How the shadows fall when the day is done,

And when Love is not.

We have made no vows–there will none be broke,

Our love was free as the wind on the hill,

There was no word said we need wish unspoke,

We have wrought no ill.

So shall we not part at the end of day,

Who have loved and lingered a little while,

Join lips for the last time, go our way,

With a sigh, a smile?”.

Prior to reading “The Poems and Prose” I was not aware that in addition to his poetry Dowson had produced a number of short stories and one play. As with his poems the stories and play describe unattainable love or, in several of the stories the inability of men to take the plunge and express their love to their beloved.

In the play a man falls asleep in a beautiful garden to be awoken by a moon goddess. They indulge in romantic play for the few hours of night and at the end of their sport the lady leaves her mortal lover behind. Ever after he remains enthral to his moon goddess and is unable to find happiness with a mortal woman.

I could list the delights of this anthology until the cows come home, however I will cease my scribbling here and leave you to explore Dowson’s work for yourselves.

The Tumult and The Shouting Dies

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Yesterday morning as I stood patiently in line waiting to enter the underground at London’s Victoria station, surrounded by the hussle and bussle of rush hour, I longed to be anywhere other than the capital of this United Kingdom. Well the tumult and the shouting can be put aside for a while as I’m off to Liverpool this evening to spend time with my mum, her partner and my sister, not forgetting Lilley my mum’s black Labrador. I do hope that my guide dog, Trigger doesn’t cause chaos by chasing Lilley around the house but that is, alas I fear to much to wish for!

I will be returning to London on 9 August and it is unlikely that I’ll blog while I’m away. See you all on or around 9 August.

 

Kevin

The Joy Of Feedback

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Yesterday evening I met up with my friend Brian for a couple of pints and a curry. Brian has just returned from France and I was delighted that while there he read my story Samantha while relaxing in the grounds of a beautiful French chateau (now there is a man who knows how to live the good life)! Brian was extremely complimentary about Samantha stating that the story is exciting and well written. Receiving feedback from close friends is wonderful particularly when they express a liking for your work. Of course there is the danger that friends and family will hold off when providing their opinion due to not wishing to cause offence (how many mothers would tell their son that they don’t like their literary or other artistic creation for example?!). However I have known Brian for many years and I know that he would not hold back in providing feedback irrespective of whether or not he liked my writing. For my story Samantha please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Samantha-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI

Speke Hall

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Standing by the old house listening to the rain. The scents of the garden and the ancient wood beyond delight my senses. The smell of autumn fills the air. The woodland floor strewn with acorns. My grandfather and I walking together, the feel of acorns clutched in a child’s hand. Opening the fruit the kernel exposed to little exploring fingers. Leaves crunching, grandfather close and near.

My aunt standing close, we two sheltering from the rain. Grandfather departed many moons past. My aunt followed several years ago. They are part of something now beyond my comprehension, a small speck in nature’s unfathomable plan.

Great metal birds shriek overhead drowning out the singing of their feathered cousins. Oh how times change. In centuries past the hall dominated the village of Speke. Villagers and hall joined by threads tying one to the other. The domestics toiling to keep the house in good order, it’s owners and their guests maintained in comfort and well fed. Like a well regulated clock the hall ran smoothly, estate workers and domestics knew their place, all was right with the world. Or was it? Where the masters and mistresses of yesteryear tyrants exploiting the local poor? The truth lies no doubt somewhere in the middle. At best the domestics of the past had a sense of pride in maintaining the local squire while he (or she) in turn felt a sense of obligation to their employees. At worst domestic service entailed getting up at an ungodly hour to sweep the grate and light a fresh fire so that the hall would be warm for when the family arose later in the day.

 

http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/speke-hall/

 

Was it a semi-feudal paradise with kindly m

Waiting for the Rain

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Lethargy holds sway. People mop their brows, move reluctantly onwards trying in vain to escape the deadening blanket of heat. Like a giant hand held too close to the face the heat stops our breath, we gasp longing for the blessed rain.

The over heated brain yearns for quiet, a shady nook in which to find relief from the myriad thoughts and fears that pervade it, but the rain when it comes is warm and heavy providing little restbite from the giant’s all encompassing hand.

Book Giveaways

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This month’s KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) newsletter contains a link to a blog post on Create Space which suggests that authors give away free copies of their books in order to raise their profile and build up a loyal following, https://www.createspace.com/en/community/community/resources/blog/2013/06/24/find-advocates-with-free-books?ref=822525&utm_id=6002&cp=70170000000bgWg&ls=Email&sls=KDP_NL. I can see the advantages to such an approach, however the difficulty is that only US-based authors can provide gift copies of their books via Amazon (the facility is not available to UK-based authors such as myself). I would love to be able to give away free copies of my books via Amazon, however, at present my only option is to promote my books free of charge using the KDP Select promotion tool which authors can utilise for a maximum of 5 days in each 3 month period. I sincerely hope that Amazon extends the facility to gift to UK-based authors!

The Rebirth Of Crystal Palace?

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Today’s Daily Mail carries an article concerning the possible rebuilding of the Crystal Palace which was destroyed by fire in 1936. I live some 25 minutes walk from Crystal Palace park which contains the ruins of the Crystal Palace, consequently I was interested to learn of the plans of a Chinese billionaire to reconstruct the glass structure.

Today Crystal Palace is a wonderful place in which to enjoy a walk with it’s lush green grass (well perhaps not so verdant at this time of year), the lake with it’s wild fowl and the sports centre for those possessing the spirit of adventure. Watch out for the dinosaurs though which lurk by the lake ready to pounce on the unwary!

For the article please visit http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2378752/Crystal-Palace-reconstructed-billionaire-Chinese-property-developer-nearly-80-years-destroyed-fire.html