Belgium

The local nasty extreme right wingers stuck a brochure through the door. I see that they are concerned that freedom of speech has disappeared. Under the liberal consensus no one can criticise Islam any more. Don’t worry they have a solution; send all those nasty people back where they came from. In the case of the very nice Muslim women who work in the boys’ creche, I think that would probably be Etterbeek.

NaBloPoMo – Are we there yet? P is for Parker, Parks and Pratchett

Parker, that’s Dorothy Parker, obviously. Do I need to say more? “If all the girls who attended the Yale prom were laid end to end, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised”

I have always liked the idea of Tim Parks rather more than the result. He is an English man who married an Italian woman and lives in Verona. I find his books about growing up in the midst of what is, essentially, an Italian family with a funny English father, insightful and sometimes amusing. His writing can be a bit convoluted for me. The best of his books is “A Season with Verona”. Although Verona is famous in the English speaking world for Romeo and Juliet, it is famous in Italy for being the most racist town in the country and having the roughest football fans.  He spent a season bonding with the roughest of them.  It is enlightening and surprisingly touching from time to time.

Terry Pratchett is great.  He can be a little hit and miss but as my favourite aunt who reads everything says, why get something new from the library when you know you can rely on Terry Pratchett to deliver the goods.  Mildly humourous fantasy set on a fictional planet called Discworld which resembles our own in many ways.  I have them all.

I am fascinated by the way the British are so cautious about some things (careful, peanut packet contains nuts!) and so utterly reckless about others (more debt, help yourself sir, no, no, don’t bother with any independent advice).

A friend of mine who is half English, half Belgian pointed out what should have been obvious to me, namely, that the issue is not one of concern but of liability. The “careful contains nuts” brigade do not have any views about the well-being or intelligence level of their customers, they are merely anxious to avoid being sued. The financial institutions are much less concerned about this as the market is famously lightly regulated and they can get away with blue murder.

My Anglo-Belgian friend points out that the Belgian banks are far more paternalistic and there are no credit cards in Belgium merely deferred debit cards; everyone must pay off in full at the end of the month. An English friend tells me that her bank in Belgium was horrified when she and her husband decided not to take a fixed rate mortgage. “But” they said, “it’s twenty years, anything could happen.” They decided to chance it on the basis that it was only variable up to a ceiling of 2% more than the fixed rate.

The Belgians are also delightfully relaxed and normal about children’s safety, something I feel is not the case in Britain and increasingly not the case in Ireland. I was reading about the Madeleine McCann case in Le Soir a couple of weeks ago. The editorial was very disapproving about England and referred to its dreadful history touching on various tragic cases of abducted children. I did have a slight feeling of ‘hang on a minute, watch out for the mote in your own eye’. But it seems to me that the real difference is that though at some level, in Britain, people know that their children are statistically very unlikely to be abducted, they don’t act that way. In Belgium, despite everything, they still do.

NaBloPoMo – O is for pretty much everything

Flann O’Brien is a genius, he also wrote as Brian O’Nolan and Myles na Gopaleen. If you have never seen a ‘Keats and Chapman’ story and you like poor puns, I can recommend an excellent Christmas present for you. If you have never heard of ‘the brother’ your life is about to get a lot happier. The catechism of cliche is a thing of wonder. There is a little background information on the great man here. When I was growing up a hard backed brown volume called “The Best of Myles” was my father’s constant companion. I would occasionally sneak off with it only to be forced to replace it promptly following a bellow from my indignant father. I was going to give you a Keats and Chapman story but they are all rather long and the goodness of the internet does not appear to extend to providing a copy of a text. I am, however, selflessly going to retype something from the catechism of cliche. If you don’t love this, you have no soul. If it reminds you of my style, you have no tact.

“Is treatment, particularly bad treatment, ever given to a person?

No. It is always meted out.

Is anything else ever meted out?

No. The only thing that is ever meted out is treatment.

And what does the meting out of treatment evoke?

The strongest protest against the treatment meted out.

Correct. Mention another particularly revolting locution.

‘The matter will fall to be dealt with by so-and-so.’

Good. Are you sufficiently astute to invent a sentence where this absurd jargon will be admissible?

Yes. ‘The incendiary bombs will fall to be dealt with by fire fighting squads.’

Very good indeed. Is that enough for wan day?

It is, be the japers.”

John O’Farrell wrote what I think is the funniest book I have ever read. It’s called “Things Can Only Get Better: Eighteen Miserable Years in the Life of a Labour Supporter” and it incapacitated me with laughter in private and, regrettably, in public. Yes, I was the hysterical woman on the tram. I read two of his other books but though perfectly acceptable, they did not live up to this brilliant, brilliant book.

I got a present of an Ardal O’Hanlon book from the, now former, publishing exec. Ardal O’Hanlon is an Irish comedian most famous for playing the gormless Fr. Dougal on the “Father Ted” series. I thought his book would be funny, it was not. I thought it would be poorly written. It wasn’t. I don’t think it sold very well either though. I’m not sure anyone expected Father Dougal to write a dark brilliant story of Irish small town life (sort of like Pat McCabe, but to my mind much better – is it coincidence that he and McCabe come from the same small town? I think not – stay safe, stay away from Monaghan). I would never have bought it in a million years but it was brilliant. I don’t think he ever wrote another and this seems to have sunk without trace which was a shame.
My husband brought a complete set of P.J. O’Rourke books to our marriage. I like him. I can’t help myself.

Do you realise that if it weren’t for Ireland and the diaspora, I would have no entries under O?

I gather from peering into someone else’s copy of Le Soir on the tram, that in Michael Moore’s new flick “Sicko” he gives the nod to the Belgian health system. Which is, indeed, excellent. Mind you, it is sustained by whopping taxes. It’s all about choices. I’m probably with the Belgians here.

I saw a fantastic film about the influence of the orient on Venice. Do you know the French word espèces meaning cash? Well that’s what it means, now you know. But did you know that it comes from épices, meaning spices; I didn’t think so. And further that in the middle ages when you went to pay your bill, people asked whether you would be paying in cash or spices? Venice had a monopoly on pepper; boy were they rolling in it. There’s a pun there somewhere.

NaBloPoMo N is for Nothomb 

Amelie Nothomb is a Belgian author who apparently lives in the Galerie de la Reine (very swish) and is mad as a hatter.  I have read two of her books and they are excellent and the langugage is easy (perhaps not a hurdle that my favourite English books have to jump).

“Stupeurs et Tremblements” is a semi-fictional account about a young girl going to work in a Japanese company.  It is hilarious and also sad.  “Metaphysique des Tubes” is about the first three years of her life (spent in Japan where her father was a diplomat).  Much of this time was spent lying and not moving but she was eventually brought to her senses by her grandmother feeding her chocolate.  This is even funnier than “Stupeurs et Tremblements” and quite a lot weirder.  Apparently her stuff is a bit hit and miss but I have had two great hits.

At least, not unless you have lived in Belgium for a long time, ideally all your life.  But this is funny.  Also, I see that the long disputed Brussels Halle Vilvoorde (BHV to its friends) constituency rated a mention in the FT the other day.  And I have kept a supplement that came with Le Soir on the linguistic regime in Belgium.  I may put it up on my wall.  All this on the day that the French say they wouldn’t mind Wallonia being tacked on to France.  Sigh.  This is all beginning to take its toll.  As is NaBloPoMo.

Onwards.  L is for Lewis.

C.S. Lewis, of course, another convert.  I read “The Magician’s Nephew” when I was in second class (7/8).  I can still remember how hard it was to read and stumbling over the unfamiliar words.  I got it from the library at the back of the classroom and I sat at a sunny window and read and read.  I think it must have been by far the hardest thing I had ever read and I took long breaks to look at the picture on the cover and wish that there were perhaps a couple of more pictures accompanying the text.  I can also remember having real difficulty in imagining how “Digory” might be pronounced.  It is probably still my favourite Narnia book.  They are all wonderful although I find “The Last Battle” a bit depressing now.  I remember having a lengthy argument with my (11 months) older friend (now an Ambassador to Vietnam) about how “The Magician’s Nephew” was the first of the Narnia books, which it was.  Very annoyingly, using her 11 months of knowledge to the full, she was able to inform me, quite rightly, that “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” was written first and “The Magician’s Nephew” was thought up to explain it.   I still have, here on the bookshelf, the full set of the Narnia books that my father brought me home from London as a present in the 1970s and I still read them very regularly.  I hope that my children will love them too.

The Belgian crisis continues, you know. Many of the neighbours have Belgian flags hanging from their windows. I overheard a tram driver saying darkly that some areas have more flags than others. Our commune is staunchly in favour of the continuation of Belgium, if the matter can be judged by the number of flags. A website has been set up to encourage people to stick with the Belgian project but I can’t remember the address and nor can I find it by googling the obvious words (there is some irony there I feel).

The King continues to be rushed off his feet. No, really. He had surgery on his hip recently and when he woke up from the operation, he told his consultant that all the time he was under, he had dreams about the negotiations on the future of Belgium. He is a busy man, the King of the Belgians, perhaps he should relax and enjoy the position while it lasts.

I see that there is concern in the circles that are paid to be concerned by such things that the lack of any government in Belgium means that the Lisbon Treaty may not be ratified in December and all hell will break loose. If you care, the Lisbon Treaty is the redraft of the ill-fated constitutional Treaty which, depending on whom you listen to is either completely different from or identical to its predecessor. OK, you didn’t care, did you?

I recently got an email from an English language bookshop here entitled “Does Belgium Matter? In case you care, or want to trot along, here are the details:

Book presentation: “How can one not be interested in Belgian History: War, Language and Consensus in Belgium since 1830”

142 days since the last general elections and still no new government in Belgium. While analysts discuss the possibility of the end of Belgium, Belgian flags are appearing at the windows of houses around Brussels. So does Belgium matter?

Two years ago, during the 175th anniversary of Belgium, Martine Van Berlo, lecturer of Dutch languages in the Department of Germanic studies at Trinity College Dublin, organised a symposium, ‘Belgium revealed’. The speakers (Benno Barnard, Geert van Istendael, Marc Reynebeau and Sophie de Schaepdrijver) each highlighted a specific vision of the origins of Belgium independence and of what that complex notion of ‘belgitude’ is ultimately all about. An unexpected image of Belgium was projected to the Irish audience of a post-nationalist, federal country, combining cultural pragmatism with a rather solid social consensus … A country quite capable of playing its own role on the European and international scene.

Following the symposium, a small volume of the presentations was published, in which was also included an essay by Tony Judt, “Is There a Belgium?”. Belgium does matter. This book tells you why.

On Thursday 15th November from 7:30pm onwards, Nicola’s Bookshop (you need to email to get in, such is the popularity of Belgium as a topic but entrance is free) will host a Presentation by Martine Van Berlo of the mentioned book. There will be a question & answer session after the presentation where you will be able to voice your opinion on the state of Belgium!

This will be followed by a taste of some of Belgium’s best products (beer, cheese, waffles, pralines)!

* * * * * * * * *
Synopsis:

Belgium rarely attracts foreign notice. Yet the country is more than fine chocolates, delicious beers or Tintin. This volume celebrates Belgium as a federal, post-nationalist country, which combines cultural pragmatism with a rather solid social
consensus. It presents a critical vision on the origins of Belgian independence and on that complex notion named ‘belgitude’. It illustrates how a deep-seated tradition of local autonomy and suspicion towards state authority go hand in hand with a strong sense of individual tolerance and solidarity, with a refusal of violent confrontation and a continuous search for consensus. Prominent commentators on things Belgian combine critical and irreverent observations with a strong attachment to the existence of the country and its role on the international stage. They emphasise the potential of linguistic diversity and cultural plurality. They also point out the ambivalent relation between history, national myths, and the ‘lasagne’ identity of most Belgians. Belgium may be a model or a warning. Its history addresses questions of identity and security, of a sense of cohesion and common purpose – or the lack thereof.

Belgium does matter. This volume tells you why.

Nablopomo

E is for Eugenides which is just as well. Also, it turns out D is for Didion and Darrieussecq and C is for Clarke; this alphabetical index is harder than I thought.

Anne Enright won the Booker prize and I have read two of her books. She does not appeal, we will move on. Dave Eggers – the man who gave us “A heartbreaking work of staggering genius” is overblown. Mr. Eugenides is, however, interesting. I find that his style makes him a bit heavy going. I bought “The Virgin Suicides” many years ago because I was intrigued by the title. It is intriguing and funny in places. “Middlesex” was more entertaining and a very interesting premise. As a fringe benefit it provides a tutorial on the Turkish invasion of Cyprus. A little long but recommended, particularly if you are thinking of marrying a sibling.

Joan Didion’s book “The Year of Magical Thinking” is one of the best books I have read in the past year but terribly, terribly sad. I haven’t read any of her other books but I will.
I have read two of Marie Darrieussecq’s books; that’s a lot when you consider I read them in French. “Truismes” is translated into English as “Pig Tales” which tells you a lot more about the book. It is, essentially, the story of a woman who turns into a pig. It was an enormous success in France and my French flat mate gave it to me to read. It was alright; perhaps some of the humour escaped me as I was reading in a foreign language. For whatever reason, despite this uninspiring beginning, I bought her book “Le Bebe” and it was, undoubtedly, the best book about having a new baby that I have read. In it she says that she is superstitious about writing another of her works of fiction (featuring as they do the weird and the grotesque); that makes it so odd that she has now written a book about a mother who loses her baby – “Tom est mort”. It caused a bit of excitement in France. I’m planning to read it when I’m feeling strong.

Finally, I so enjoyed Susanna Clarke’s “Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell” in a sort of this is very long and very odd and you need to do some work on your understanding of presently kind of way that I think it only fair to include it.

And tomorrow it will be F – I am unstoppable. Your E recommendations accepted with pleasure.