normblog

A facile distribution

Film director Michael Haneke says:

There is just as much evil in all of us as there is good... We're all continuously guilty, even if we're not doing it intentionally to be evil. Here we are sitting in luxury hotels, living it up on the the backs of others in the third world. We all have a guilty conscience, but we do very little about it.

I'd say that rather flattens out the concept of evil and renders it less than useful. The potentiality for evil may inhere in many people but one shouldn't just take it as read that it is present in all, and one shouldn't accept, either, that there is as much evil in all of us as there is good, or that there is as much evil in some of us as in others of us. It makes a difference what people do, how they actually behave, and if they behave well then their capacity to do evil in certain circumstances doesn't quite count in the same way as if they had done it. Not everyone is continuously guilty for everything, or else being guilty loses its meaning. Staying in a hotel, even a luxury hotel, doesn't in itself make a person responsible for all the wrongs in the third world, or anywhere else for that matter. Most people with good lives could do more to help others than they do, but that's something different.

Talking of heights

Yesterday we drove south to the Mission at San Juan Bautista - or, rather, Geoff drove while I skilfully navigated and put the road trip compilations I'd brought along into the CD player. San Juan Bautista is well worth a trip in its own right - a combination of place of pilgrimage, site of Californian history, tourist attraction, piece of the West and small town America. It also left us with a certain sense of vertigo.

That was good preparation for seeing the redwoods in Big Basin Redwoods State Park, on our way back to San Francisco. Having already taken in the giant sequoias in Yosemite, we're coming to regard ourselves as experts in the matter of very tall trees.

Later today I'm heading for home. Remember: if you ever plan to motor west, just take my way, that's the highway that's the best.

Selective anti-racism

Ken Livingstone believes we should not give ground to racists, make concessions to them or allow them to be seen as 'legitimate participants' in public debate. That's what Ken Livingstone believes. Except, of course, when he doesn't. What does he do to manage the contradiction? Why, he simply denies that there's any sort of racism where others have provided the evidence of it.

Here is a man with (obviously) no trace of racism in his entire body - and welcomed by Livingstone with open arms when he was Mayor of London.

Shepherding the road trippers

I pay a tribute now to my friend Geoffrey, for he it is who has done the lion's share of the planning on this road trip of ours, and mighty good his planning has been. It's true that we had to drive an extra couple of hundred miles or so to get into Yosemite, Tioga Pass being closed on account of snow. But this I put down to the vagaries of Nature and not to the planning capacities of my old buddy. He has been all but immaculate in that department. The smoothness of the trip, the absence of wrong turns, the roads not taken that were indeed not to be taken, may all be put down to him.

However, not being of the benighted number who hold that you must not criticize a good institution if you support it, I have to register a quibble. Geoff failed to notice that this weekend the clocks go back in England while I am away. I will not get the benefit of that extra hour. It may be said that I didn't notice this either, and there's some truth in the claim. But I wasn't the planner, was I? An extra hour lost, never to be regained.

Oh well, for the Golden Gate Bridge, under which we passed not far from the spot where Kim Novak jumps into the water, and over which we drove on our way to Bodega Bay where Tippi Hedren meets up with a few birds - and where we stopped off to look at that schoolhouse - and for Pacific Heights and Alcatraz and more, thanks to Geoff for his organizational efforts and skills.

Opposing relativism

I'm no friend of cultural relativism but I think the claims made by Antonia Senior here, in excoriating it, go too far. Senior says that relativism has dominated the postwar era. It's now in retreat, she adds, 'but there is no coherent moral framework taking its place'; it leaves us at a loss when faced with Nick Griffin. Really? However negative the influence of relativism may have been, Senior underestimates the continuing power of universalist alternatives. How can she write an article on this theme without even mentioning the concept of human rights and the development of a human rights culture since World War II? Cultural relativism is to be opposed, but we are not without conceptual and moral weapons against it.

The fragrance of Hugo

Hugo Chavez is urging Venezuelans not to stay in the shower too long, and therefore not to sing there. They must conserve water. Hugo says three minutes is enough and he doesn't stink. Of course he doesn't; he's the fragrant blossom of the London left. What kind of communism is it (he asks) when you can take a slow bath?

Tale of the unexpected

No matter where in the world I am, I try to keep up with the latest news stories. And you, my readers, are the beneficiaries. Be honest - would you have known about this had it not been for normblog and its indefatigable sources?

Lerwick woman Jill Newman and her mother Betty Keegan got a shock this week when an unusual object dropped from the sky.

The women were each enjoying a cone of chips as they strolled along Commercial Street on Tuesday, when a throng of gulls, lured by the smell, began circling them. One gull was so tempted by the chips that it dropped its catch. The catch, incredibly, was a live budgie and, if that was not surprising enough, it dropped onto Jill's head.

Jill said: "I felt something scrape my head then saw it hit the Thulecraft window. I couldn't believe it when I saw it was a budgie!"

The budgie is reported to have been traumatized by the experience, but has since perked up. Jill says, 'It was just the last thing you'd expect when you're walking along eating a poke of chips'. (Thanks: BrS.)

The normblog profile 318: Anne Ulanov

Anne Ulanov was born in New York City's Greenwich Village during its artistic heyday. She was educated at an uptown Catholic prep school and later went to a Seven-Sister college in the last gasp before their ivy-covered brothers accepted women. She studied and loved philosophy; her ambition to teach Kant, Spinoza and Wittgenstein in elementary school was frustrated by inflexible graduate school programmes and unwelcome school licensing. Anne works with many computer software applications and documentation at a top-of-the-line corporate law firm and sometimes feels alarm that her life is getting away from her as she's long wanted to do and be things she's never quite pulled off. She's a grandmother and her three grandchildren are the most engaging people she has ever met. Anne blogs at Still Muttering By Myself.

Why do you blog? > It began out of mere curiosity - to see how a website was put together. Then I found it might be a way to put words to my saying I wanted to write. My children were grown and I was feeling bereft of a captive audience for anything I thought or said. It's turned out to be far more than I imagined - sometimes more demanding and challenging but always satisfying and fun. Plus I've found (met?) so many surprisingly expressive and perceptive people - people I would never have had even a remote chance of meeting, and certainly not with such depth or seriousness.

What has been your best blogging experience? > Two things. One was when I contributed to a blogger's continuing to write through his illness; he specifically said my words were part of why he decided both not to stop and to write about the experience, too. The sense of 'real' influence was astonishing. The other was finding that I had actual readers/friends/audience for my words and thoughts when I almost quit (see worst blogging experience below).

What has been your worst blogging experience? > Being excoriated for some questions and thoughts I wrote during the last presidential campaign. The attacks surprised and upset me far more than I expected.

What would be your main blogging advice to a novice blogger? > Do it! If the goal is to become world-renowned, have a focus and keep the posts/essays on point. If the goal is self-expression or simply to have a good time and get out there in the cyberworld, then don't worry about the one-subject-one-blog kind of thing. Some of my favourite blogs are simply wonderful verbal excursions.

What are your favourite blogs? > These are three OF my favorite blogs (I'll hyperventilate trying to choose just three): normblog (no, I'm not apple-polishing), Fresh Bilge (although I disagree and argue with him often), Frenchless in France.

Who are you reading at the moment? > Ian McEwan. Because several book blogs raved about On Chesil Beach. I listened to the audio book and loved his quiet intoning voice and found myself stunned by the accuracy of his description of the era's held-in-ness. It's so hard to explain and yet was such a dominating clamp on so many lives.

What is the best novel you've ever read? > Covenant With Death. More accurately, it probably isn't the best but it's the one I enjoyed so much that it informed much of my life. It combines philosophical reasoning, a delicious plot, interesting characters and good writing. For my real 'best' I would have to say War and Peace which I read in 8th grade. The scope, the visual drama, the individual lives and people. What a magnificent book. I read a lovely thin-paper, two-volume edition in 8th grade and wrote a long book report... for which I got an F because my nun teacher (Mother Christopher) did not believe I could possibly have read it. My father intervened, my reputation was saved and I got an A+ in the end.

Who is your favourite composer? > Schubert, I think. Maybe Schumann. Sometimes Liszt. Sometimes Mozart or Beethoven. And on alternate Thursdays, Gilbert and Sullivan – particularly the last few minutes of the first act of The Mikado, when the crystal clear soprano soars through and above the rich choral voices.

What is your favourite piece of political wisdom? > Speak softly and carry a big stick. Never use it, just carry it.

If you could effect one major policy change in the governing of your country, what would it be? > Eliminate personal income tax and institute major giving programmes in its stead.

What do you consider to be the main threat to the future peace and security of the world? > Ignoring emotional needs and desires of individuals.

Do you think the world (human civilization) has already passed its best point, or is that yet to come? > I do think the best is yet to come, believe it or not. We are nasty and loud and difficult, but we're so much better than we used to be that I think that's the only logical conclusion.

What would be your most important piece of advice about life? > Listen to other people. Sometimes you may have to scream and yell first, maybe even just in your own head, but listening will get you many things: other points of view (some of which you may adopt yourself, eventually), trust of others, understanding of many things, and (sometimes) the clear understanding of how utterly insane some people are!

Do you think you could ever be married to, or in a long-term relationship with, someone with radically different political views from your own? > Absolutely. As long as my partner shared my feeling that there are two zillion ways to get from point A to point Z.

What personal fault do you most dislike? > Smugness.

In what circumstances would you be willing to lie? > To protect my grandchildren's or children's safety or lives. Sounds clichéd but it's unequivocally true.

Do you have any prejudices you're willing to acknowledge? > Yes but I'm not sure how or if to say. I loathe the blind, unquestioning taking on of any belief or idea, be it religious or anything else. I used to think I was prejudiced against uneducated people but as I meet more people from all kinds of backgrounds I realize that it isn't the education, it's the curiosity. I am passionately frustrated by stultifying dullness.

What is your favourite proverb? > I like most of the ones I hear. My English professor father banished clichés and trite language so I thought it was simply brilliant the first time I heard 'the grass felt like a carpet'. Similarly, most proverbs amaze me with their simplicity and clarity. It's a personal failing in some ways.

What commonly enjoyed activities do you regard as a waste of time? > Going to bars and knocking back lots of alcohol. It's just never seemed interesting to me.

What, if anything, do you worry about? > Getting older and/or mentally feeble and not getting to see my grandchildren throughout their lives (their spouses, their children, their interests, etc).

If you were to relive your life to this point, is there anything you'd do differently? > I would try to find out how to drive myself more deliberately in a creative and expressive way, sooner and more thoroughly.

What would you call your autobiography? > Funny you should ask. In college we saw a movie in anthropology class called 'Eastward into the sunset'. It was about south of the Equator and how literally and physically different things can be, elsewhere. I thought that was an awesome phrase and truly have always thought that if I wrote an autobiography I would call it Eastward into the sunset.

Where would you most like to live (other than where you do)? > England. The coast of Maine or Cornwall. Paris.

What would your ideal holiday be? > Assuming time travel and no need to return to work or home, a week on various fabulous beaches interspersed with weeks in London, Paris, Istanbul, Moscow, Hong Kong, Tokyo, San Francisco and the North Pole. Adventure plus culture plus beauty plus calm. Ah, if only...

What do you like doing in your spare time? > Visiting and playing with my grandchildren (they are awesome people, not just my progeny), reading, writing, watching old movies, driving in the country, visiting museums, going to plays, talking with friends, knitting, making jewelery.

What would be your ideal choice of alternative profession or job? > Writing full time and teaching philosophy in 2nd grade.

Which English Premiership football team do you support? > I don't. I just read Nick Hornby novels.

If you could have one (more or less realistic) wish come true, what would you wish for? > The ability to turn events and facts into fiction – easily and well – verbally, whether oral or written, and laced with enormous humour throughout.

How, if at all, would you change your life were you suddenly to win or inherit an enormously large sum of money? > Mundane but true: first I would pay all my bills. Then I'd buy or build a house by the ocean equidistant between my children, with many bedrooms so they could and would visit with my grandchildren. Then I'd hire a tutor to help me learn to write how and what I want. Then I'd fly to Kiev and Paris and London for weekend visits. Then I'd develop curricula and programs like Geoffrey Canada's so all children would learn quiet self-confidence and utter delight in the world.

If you could have any three guests, past or present, to dinner who would they be? > Three is so impossible! Kant, Alan Turing, Jane Austen. I'd have liked to include Larousse in order to guarantee awesome dining and Victoria de los Angeles or one of the Bachs for conversation as well as soothing sounds.

[The normblog profile is a weekly Friday morning feature. A list of all the profiles to date, and the links to them, can be found here.]

If you're going to San Francisco...

... be sure to find out what's happening in the vicinity. By one of those odd coincidences of the world, our road trip last night intersected with a book tour by the writer... Sophie Hannah. Geoff, Martin and I drove into Oakland from Yosemite in time to catch Soph's appearance at A Great Good Place for Books. Little did I know back in June 1971 that one day I'd be on the road to San Francisco for the very first time, heading for an event featuring my just-born daughter. She was so little. When question time arrived last night, I put up my hand to ask one and was met with 'Yes... Dad'. It brought home to me how strange and winding life's path can be.

A bear of big brain

So we're driving along. Or I should say that Geoffrey and Martin are driving; I'm being driven - and supplying commentary, wisdom and puzzles as we go. We're looking at sights like this. And like this. Oh, and not to forget this one. While we're thus engrossed, up strolls a bear. He asks if we've got any food. We've been warned about the bears. You mustn't leave anything in your car overnight - it might be trashed by a bear wanting something to snack. But this bear is different. He's asking in a polite and friendly way. 'Got any chopped liver?' he says. 'Or salt beef on rye?' He takes a look at Geoff, then at Martin. Nothing doing there.

His gaze settles, finally, on me. Pause. 'Yo, Semite,' he says; 'you, for sure, must be carrying food.' And he's right. I have a bag full of stuff. He goes off, chomping.