Why This Is Hell

What I read

Finished Encampment, which was brilliant, and intense.

So intense that I had to decompress with a brief Dick Francis binge: Driving Force (1992) - a bit subpar I thought, slow start, massively convoluted plot; Wild Horses (1994) - the one involving a paraphilia I actually did a post here on back when, and making of a movie; Twice Shy (1981) which has a lot of v retro though presumably at the time cutting-edge computer nerdery involving programs on cassette tapes.

On the go

Have started - this was while I was out and about in the world last week - Peter Parker's Some Men in London: Queer Life, 1960–1967 (Some Men in London #2) (2024), since I was recording a podcast last week with the author and he assured me it was somewhat less of a downer than the previous, 1950s, volume. I think it may be a dipper-in over some while.

Still dipping in to Readers' Liberation - liked the first chapter, which is about what readers bring to the book, the second seems a bit heavier going.

Eve Babitz, Eve's Hollywood (1974) - perhaps not quite as good as Slow Days, Fast Company, but it was her first published work.

Up next

No idea: have just sent off for The Scribbler Annual but no idea when it's likely to arrive.

Not sure these links are particularly appropriate, but maybe so.

Well, I do remember her saying she scarcely noticed The Change, though she did nuance that statement by adding that she had so much else going on at the time (eldercare and other stuff) she didn't have time to notice:

Yet more on monetising the menopause: Menopause getting you down? Don’t worry, the wellness industry has a very pricey solution for you.

I am probably being horribly cynical, but when somebody goes for a home birth after a first high risk experience of parturition, one does wonder if some kind of wellness woowoo was in the mix (“She had read or heard somewhere that there was less chance of bleeding at home and that is why she wanted a home birth.”)? but this is a dreadful story: 'Gross failure’ led to deaths of mother and baby in Prestwich home birth.

This is also a really grim story about reproductive politics in Brazil: Two More Weeks: The Brutality Behind Brazil’s Reproductive Politics:

In complicated childbirth scenarios, when the life of the pregnant person and the fetus are in conflict, therapeutic abortion has historically been considered the last resort. But in Brazil, since the nineteenth century, this solution has been replaced by the cesarean operation. This was not based on medical reasons. Cesarean sections, up until the early twentieth century, were rudimentary procedures, almost always fatal to the birthing person. What motivated its adoption in Brazil was based on different logics: religious, legal, and moral. The cesarean became an acceptable alternative to abortion because it allowed the fetus to be born, even if the birthing parent died. The nineteenth-century theological and medical debates that gave rise to this sacrificial logic still shape birth in Brazil.

But I am so, so fed up of people who use 'silver bullet' when they mean 'magic bullet'!

Silver bullets kill things, werewolves, mostly, right; or just generally Bad Guys when fired by the Lone Ranger.

Magic bullets Do Good - like curing sifilis, thank you Ehrlich and Hato, they are targeted remedies.

Also, however hyperliterate I am myself and have been from a young age, I don't think it's the panacea proposed here: There is a silver bullet for childhood happiness: a love of reading.

Just because she (and I and I daresay many of you who are reading this) found our happy place in reading, doesn't mean it's going to be that for all children.

I am entirely there for emphasising the role of pleasure in reading, for

meeting children where they are. It means allowing children to read books that might be perceived as too old and too young for them; it means relishing your child’s love for comics and heavily illustrated books

But I don't think this is For Everyone any more than Going Out and Playing In the Nice Fresh Air.

And on that, I really liked this: Children should have a right to play in the streets, alleys, pavements and car parks of their neighbourhoods. Refers to a letter about children playing in streets, etc, rather than in designated playgrounds and parks:

It assumes that children should be “taken” to designated play spaces, rather than allowing for the possibility that children should be able to access playable space without adults. And, finally, it fails to acknowledge that parks and other green spaces afford only certain kinds of play, and that children demand – and deserve – diverse spaces for diverse forms of play, not just ball games, swings and slides.

Some while ago I was invited to A Do for the retiring secretary of An Organisation with which I had had to do for many years over their archives and in other capacities. And since it had been this longstanding relationship and relations with the person in question had always been amiable, I said yes, I would go.

It involved a smallish lunch party in a restaurant on Battersea Bridge Road, which I discovered is nowhere near Battersea Power Station Tube station, which would have made it an easy-peasy journey from my starting place, but (according to Tfl) can be reached by a journey involving at least 2 Tube lines and at least one bus journey.

Excelsior: I set out on the 2 tubes, bus from Victoria, which involved rather a lot of faffing around the vicinity of Victoria station to find the relevant stop, and it was a nice day, and the bus journey, while it does take in things like Victoria Coach Station of unblessed memory, passes by some very nice bits of Chelsea including the Embankment.

Faffed around a bit more, having got off at the designated stop, trying to find the restaurant, but arrived in fact a little early though at least one of the other guests was already there.

And it was an agreeable occasion even if these were people I have not seen for yonks and did not know all that well outside of specific context then, and some I did not know. The food was good, though perhaps not so amazing that I'm inclined to make the odyssey out to Battersea again.

And then repeated the journey in the opposite direction, in company with one of the other guests who was bound for Euston.

(Yogi Tea Bag tags, bringing the woowoo by random bollox generation long before AI started getting in on the act.)

Anyway, are we at all surprised by Millions exploited by ‘menopause gold rush’ amid lack of reliable information.

(Query: how far is lack of reliable information due to its being overwhelmed by menopause quackery, murmurs historian of medicine.)

Millions of women are being exploited by a “menopause gold rush” as companies, celebrities and influencers take advantage of a “dearth” of reliable information on the issue, experts have said. Healthcare companies and content creators saw menopause as a “lucrative market” and were trying to profit from gaps in public knowledge, women’s health academics at University College London (UCL) said. Researchers called for the rollout of a national education programme after finding a significant number of women do not feel well-informed about menopause.

Brought to you by someone who was devouring her mother's magazines pretty much from the time she became literate and therefore encountered the concept of menopause decades before it became of personal relevance.

And what still gets very little play is what Stella Duffy points out in this piece:

while everyone in my research talked about physiological and emotional difficulties in the transition, once they were out the other side – even while dealing with workplace discrimination and the caring demands of their loved ones – all of them also described postmenopause as time of thriving and growing. We’re not done yet.

What I read

I managed to plough through The Wheel of Fortune and do not think I will be plunging into a major Susan Howatch re-read binge. O all those angsty men. As for man handing on misery to man, Larkinesque-like, it deepens like the Mariana trench. Plus, the Katherine Swynford-analogue character gets no interiority, and besides being pretty much normal and sensible (unlike pretty much everybody else, no, Anna seems fairly stable) is full of deep mystical working-class Welsh wisdom. Good for her levanting to Canada (can one levant in that direction?). The last section in particular had me muttering about codfish.

O what a thoroughly delightful change to move on to Eve Babitz, Slow Days, Fast Company: The World, the Flesh, and L.A. (1977) - you do not need heaving melodrama or even actual plot to be compellingly readable, just saying.

On to Anthony Powell, Books Do Furnish a Room (A Dance to the Music of Time, #10) (1971) in anticipation of group discussion at beginning of November. Getting faint frissons of that narrative pattern of that period which was eschewing ominiscient voice but having a first-person narrator who just happens to be in a position to see or hear Events and can reflect upon them.

Latest Literary Review.

Also finished the book for review but have not yet got round to getting any thoughts on it written, this week having been a bit of a week, so far.

On the go

Maggie Helwig, Encampment: Resistance, Grace, and an Unhoused Community (2025).

Also happened to notice Jonathan Rose, Readers' Liberation: The Literary Agenda (2018) when I was looking for something else - I think this must have been something in return for reading something for a publisher? - I don't think I actually bought it - but looked interesting in the light of recent musings about reading.

Up next

Having discovered that I do, in fact, have a copy of The Making of a Muckraker, maybe a spot of dipping into that?

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*Wombat Awareness Organisation: World Wombat Day!

This was in one of my inboxes this am (ironically, Mme C-C-'s):

Nice to connect beyond work
Hi,
We’ve crossed paths around the office a few times, and I’ve been meaning to say hello. I recently joined a dating site and thought it might be easier to connect there outside of work.
If you’re open to it, here’s my profile: [redacted link]
You’ll need to sign up to view it.
No pressure at all—just an invitation to chat in a space that isn’t tied to corporate email.
Either way, wishing you a great week.
Best,
A colleague

(Or maybe run it past Ask A Manager???)

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Actually, it is a bit of an insult to bufo bufo to characterise anyone doing this sort of thing as a toad, no? Especially when the poor things are currently suffering a good deal in their quest for LUHRRVVV: can Britain’s toads be saved from traffic and terrible decline?

(No, they are not zipping around doing dangerous driving in fast cars, parp-parp, like Mr Toad.)

They are trying to get to suitable mating areas:

toads like large ponds. Their ability to stay out of water for longer than frogs, means they can travel further to reach them – sometimes hundreds of metres, Petrovan says. They tend to stick to their ancestral migration routes – it’s common for adult toads to return to their birth pond to mate.

I think I have heretofore mentioned the people who help toads to do this thing: in fact it's a bit of a recurrent theme.... (going way back).

Another flare-up of lower-back issues. This will be the third time this has happened with Academic Thing impending.... (podcast particiption scheduled for tomorrow). Can do without this, really. in particular the associated insomnia.

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Further cause of miff: thought from listing in back of an NYRB paperback that there was a Jessica Mitford volume I did not have - further delving reveals it is merely The Making of a Muckraker under a different title with a new introduction and one chapter that is not in my 1979 Quartet p/b. Huh.

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Honestly, I look at the headshot at the top of this piece and go, 'man, he is such a square he is cubed': after 70 years of hip-shaking thrills, is rock’n’roll dead?

Come on (thanks Chuck): styles of music have their day and time moves on.

Will concede that have recently been reviewing books leaning heavily on popular music culture of the 50s-70s and its impact, but you know, that was a particular time and context, and anyone doing rock now is pretty much a tribute band or very very retro, surely?

It was clear from the works I was reviewing that The Scene was constantly shifting and moving on and developing niche scenes differentiating themselves from The Mainstream and so on and so forth.

And it is one thing to be nostalgic, and to be interested in a bygone epoch of popular music culture, and another to believe that it has to keep on being a living scene.

This week's bread (because last week's suddenly got The Mould): a loaf of Bacheldre Rustic Country Bread Flour, v nice if turned out a bit crumbly.

Friday night supper: sorta-nasi goreng with saucisson sec and red bell pepper.

Saturday breakfast rolls: Tassajarra method, einkorn flour, maple syrup, dried ('apple-juice infused') blueberries: turned out particularly well.

Today's lunch: pork belly slices slow-braised in soy sauce, rice wine, maple syrup and 5-spice powder; served with slowcooked tenderstem broccoli (lime rather than lemon at the end), fine green beans and chopped red bell pepper roasted in walnut oil with fennel seeds and drizzled with elderflower vinegar, and cornbread (plain white flour + baking powder, half and half with mixture of fine/coarse cornmeal)..