Doctor Who, Series 12 (or 38), 2020

Enquiring minds may or may not want to know what I thought of the recently concluded Doctor Who season of stories (I get very mixed up as to whether we are meant to call them series or seasons these days). First off, it gave me an excuse to revisit the twelfth season of Old Who, which was a nostalgic pleasure (Robot, Ark in Space, Sontaran Experiment, Genesis of the Daleks, Revenge of the Cybermen). That 1975 season was in retrospect a turning point – a new team, Baker Hinchcliffe and Holmes, finding their feet and raising the show to new heights of ambition. Forty-five years on, we’re in the New Who’s fifth Doctor’s second season rather than Old Who’s fourth Doctor’s first, if you see what I mean, and so it’s not quite as much of a turning point. And yet…

This was a good season. It is overall better than Season 11 of New Who. None of the individual stories was quite as good as that season’s highs (Rosa and Demons of the Punjab), but equally none was as bad as its lows (Kerblam! and The Witchfinders). Before getting into it, I’ve drawn here on reviews by Huw Fullerton for Radio Times, John Connors (mostly) for Space Time Telegraph, and Darren Mooney on The M0vie Blog. To take them in order:

Spyfall had the stunt casting of Stephen Fry and Lenny Henry for the holiday special first episode, but much more importantly the first appearance of Sacha Dhawan’s Master. Apart from the broken-down Dalek of last year’s New Year special, this was the first real engagement by Chibnall-era Who with the show’s past. The first half of it was a real high-octane cracker of an episode, ending with a tremendous reveal and cliff-hanger. The second episode got a little distracted with Nazis (which Who rarely does well, and this was not an exception) and Ada Lovelace, but basically landed where it needed to. See also John Connors here and here, and Darren Mooney here and here.

Orphan 55 has a holiday planet which of course is much more evil than it seems, and also then turns out to be a degenerated and ravaged far-future Earth. It was nice to watch but there seemed to me a bit too much plot and characters being thrown at the wall, without necessarily sticking. And it didn’t quite land the political punch about protecting the environment that it really needed to. Still, it inspired me to finally get around to watching the new animation of The Macra Terror (of which more anon).  See also John Connors here and Darren Mooney here.

Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror is a different matter. (Someone pointed out to me on Twitter that it includes the first TV Who actually set in Canada, as the early scenes are on the northern side of Niagara Falls.) Welcome back to Robert Glenister, 36 years after The Caves of Androzani, as Thomas Edison; and welcome also Goran Visnjic as Nikola Tesla; and welcome especially to Anjli Mohindra, formerly of the Sarah Jane Adventures, as the alien queen. (I thought this might have been the first TV Who ever both written and directed by women, but in fact that was The Witchfinders last season.) It’s a very good pseudo-historical, with interesting historical figures in an interesting place faced with a dangerous threat. See also John Connors here and Darren Mooney here.

Fugitive of the Judoon is the episode everyone will remember from this series. The return of Captain jack was basically fan service (though I then went back and rewatched Gridlock, and realised that there too the Face of Boe, possibly Jack at the end of his life, gives the Doctor a hint about his relationship with the rest of the Time Lords. And in fact there is another shout back to Season Three with the chameleon arch revealing the excellent Jo Martin’s completely forgotten incarnation of the Doctor. I must say I found this tremendously satisfying rather than outrageous; I am old enough to remember the Brain of Morbius, and the hints then that the Hartnell Doctor was not the first. See also Tim Worthington guesting for John Connors here, and Darren Mooney here.

Praxeus then felt much more like business as usual, if anything a bit less exciting; the environmental message again didn’t land quite right, and although it was great to have a geographical diversity, the Doctor, companions and incidental characters just happened to end up in the right place at the right time to help the plot along. It looked very good, though, and the consequnces of the bacterial infection were appropriately gruesome. See also John Connors here and Darren Mooney here.

Can You Hear Me? was a journey into the companions’ inner lives in a way that we don’t often get since the end of the RTD era, particularly Yazz, who is my favourite of the current crew (and apparently will be the only one to appear regularly in the next season). Darren Mooney is very good on how this works and also doesn’t work; that Chibnall’s heart is possibly in the right place but he doesn’t quite pull it off over the long haul. Still, as a single episode I thought it was fine. See also Sean Alexander guesting for John Connors here.

I’ll always remember The Haunting of Villa Diodati for the circumstances in which I first saw it, packed into the biggest hall in the Los Angeles airport Marriott with a thousand other fans, whose reactions were so voluble (and positive) that I needed to watch it again when I got home. It’s not the first Who story with Mary Shelley and a Cyberman, which is a really obvious pairing. But it looked good, sounded good, and more or less made sense both times I watched it. See John Connors here and Darren Mooney here.

And so to the final two-parter, Ascension of the Cybermen and The Timeless Children. I was tremendously excited by one aspect of the first episode – no single minute of TV Doctor Who had ever previously been set in Ireland, as I have previously written. Of course, with the revelation of the second part, it turns out that there is still no moment of Doctor Who set in the “real” Ireland, is the one that exists in the same universe as the Doctor and the Tardis rather than just being in the Doctor’s imagination. Again, as someone who saw The Brain of Morbius first time round, I’m not unhappy with the disruption of what a lot of people thought was established continuity. See Matthew Kilburn guesting for John Connors here and here, John Connors himself here, and Darren Mooney here, here and here.

Whittaker is good. She is very clearly the Doctor, very much now saturated with continuity and with past lives that we (and the Doctor) never knew about. I don’t really warm to Chibnall as a show-runner, but I think he has proved himself able to both do an entire season with almost no continuity bar the Tardis, and also to do a season with the Master, Cybermen and Gallifrey, and avoid being sucked into the spell of his own narrative (as Moffat so often did). RTD remains I think the best of the three New Who show-runners so far. I feel that the show’s moral core has weakened a bit under Chibnall – see above re the environmental messages being blunted, and the disastrous politics of last season’s Kerblam!

Anyway, more to come; in a very uncertain world, it’s good to know that Doctor Who will continue, and there’s plenty of Big Finish etc to catch up on while we are waiting. (And Annek Wills is sending me a signed copy of the new DVD of The Faceless Ones, so that will cheer me up.)

Midnight Cowboy

Midnight Cowboy won the Oscar for Best Picture of 1969, and picked up another two for Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay (a relatively low tally, and exceeded that year by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). It lost in four other categories – both leads were nominated for Best Actor, Sylvia Miles for best Supporting Actress, and also for Best Film Editing.

The other Best Picture nominees were Anne of the Thousand Days, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Hello, Dolly! and Z. IMDB users rate it second on both systems, with Easy Rider first on one ranking and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid first on the other. The Hugo that year went to the (real) Moon landings. There were a lot of good films that year; I have not seen any of those mentioned so far, but I have seen The Brain, Oh! What A Lovely War!, The Bed-Sitting Room, Luis Buñuel’s The Milky Way and A Boy Named Charlie Brown (the one with the dramatic spelling bee). Midnight Cowboy is better than any of them.

Here’s a contemporary trailer.

New York is by far the most popular setting for Oscar-winning films, though this is actually the first for eight years, since West Side Story – the longest gap we’ve had. (Seven years separate The Broadway Melody and The Great Ziegfeld.) It’s the story of a young Texan who tries to make his fortune in New York in the swinging Sixties, and makes friends with a local; but both of them are chewed up and spat out by the naked city, and they end up heading to Florida with one of them dead on arrival.

I’m not going to write a lot about it. I liked it very much, and it’s going in my top ten (ahead of A Man for All Seasons, but behind The Bridge on the River Kwai, since you ask). There are no returning actors from previous Oscar-winning films, and none who also appeared in Doctor Who. The film is about the friendship between two white male characters, but the women characters are on the whole empowered. Literally the first thing the protagonist does after the credits finish rolling is to greet his black colleague. There is a strong visibility, if not always positive, of gayness. It’s a story of broken dreams, and decline and fall, and it’s told very well.

I think there are three things to mention in particular.

First, the music. My god. I had a real double-take moment about halfway through when this came up on the soundtrack:

For me and for many people of my age and a bit younger, this is the theme tune for the BBC children’s nature programme Wildtrack.

I now know that all the hip adults in the room were nudging each other and muttering, “That’s the music from Midnight Cowboy!”

Before I get onto the two stars, the two women who stood out for me were Brenda Vaccaro as Shirley, the girl with whom Joe actually manages to perform after a false start, and Sylvia Miles as Cass, his first New York lover. This is not a feminist film, but these two roles are actually pretty empowered women. Cass got an Oscar nomination for it.

The only other film I’ve seen Jon Voight in is Catch-22, though of course I’ve seen his daughter in a few things as well. He is billed as the star here, and certainly his is the character with the most interesting arc, but I think his co-lead puts in the more memorable performance. It’s a high threshold though, as Voight manages to put in a thoroughly convincing performans as a wannabe cowboy with or without his clothes on.

I should say here that the received wisdom about the film is that it’s about a “male prostitute”. This is simply not on. First of all, I think we say “sex worker” these days. Secondly, he’s not actually very good at it. The first woman he has sex with in New York actually gets him to give her money, the young man with whom he has a sexual encounter refuses to pay him, and when he finally does get paid for sex he finds he is impotent. Joe describes himself as a hustler; I think I would call him a wannabe hustler, given his lack of success.

Dustin Hoffman simply rules as Ratso, the disreputable chap who becomes Joe’s friend and eventually more or les dies in his arms. He gets the single most memorable line of the film – “I am walking here!” – and he’s the one your eye is drawn to in their scenes together.

Incidentally there are a number of good websites detailing the New York locations of the filming. Here’s one with various other incidental details about the film.

All of the music is good, so is the acting, but the cinematography is the best. The Texas flashbacks, Joe’s miserably unsuccessful attempts to trade sex for money, New York as a place that consumes its inhabitants, and the Andy Warhol party, and the final scene on the bus, all superb viewing. The plot is simple and told visually as much as by the script.

As I said, one of the good ones. You can get it here.

Next up is Patton, of which I know nothing, but I guess it is about the general.

As usual, I went and read the novel on which the film is based, Midnight Cowboy by James Leo Herlihy. The second paragraph of the third chapter is :

She was known as Chalkline Annie, suggesting the order that had to be maintained in order to serve efficiently the large numbers of boys to whom in a single half hour she made her body available.

It’s a rare case where it’s actually rather difficult to decide which is better between the book and the film (which sticks closely to the last two-thirds of the book). The book does give us a lot more details of Joe’s early life (mostly in fact in New Mexico rather than Texas) and takes us deeper inside his head. The descriptions are vivid and somewhat unssettling. On the other hand, that tight-third narrative gives us a more restricted view of events than the camera can do, and the fact is that Joe is not all that interesting or nice a person to spend time with. It’s a memorable (and short) read all the same. You can get it here.

Winners of the Oscar for Best Picture

1920s: Wings (1927-28) | The Broadway Melody (1928-29)
1930s: All Quiet on the Western Front (1929-30) | Cimarron (1930-31) | Grand Hotel (1931-32) | Cavalcade (1932-33) | It Happened One Night (1934) | Mutiny on the Bounty (1935, and books) | The Great Ziegfeld (1936) | The Life of Emile Zola (1937) | You Can’t Take It with You (1938) | Gone with the Wind (1939, and book)
1940s: Rebecca (1940) | How Green Was My Valley (1941) | Mrs. Miniver (1942) | Casablanca (1943) | Going My Way (1944) | The Lost Weekend (1945) | The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) | Gentleman’s Agreement (1947) | Hamlet (1948) | All the King’s Men (1949)
1950s: All About Eve (1950) | An American in Paris (1951) | The Greatest Show on Earth (1952) | From Here to Eternity (1953) | On The Waterfront (1954, and book) | Marty (1955) | Around the World in 80 Days (1956) | The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) | Gigi (1958) | Ben-Hur (1959)
1960s: The Apartment (1960) | West Side Story (1961) | Lawrence of Arabia (1962) | Tom Jones (1963) | My Fair Lady (1964) | The Sound of Music (1965) | A Man for All Seasons (1966) | In the Heat of the Night (1967) | Oliver! (1968) | Midnight Cowboy (1969)
1970s: Patton (1970) | The French Connection (1971) | The Godfather (1972) | The Sting (1973) | The Godfather, Part II (1974) | One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) | Rocky (1976) | Annie Hall (1977) | The Deer Hunter (1978) | Kramer vs. Kramer (1979)
1980s: Ordinary People (1980) | Chariots of Fire (1981) | Gandhi (1982) | Terms of Endearment (1983) | Amadeus (1984) | Out of Africa (1985) | Platoon (1986) | The Last Emperor (1987) | Rain Man (1988) | Driving Miss Daisy (1989)
1990s: Dances With Wolves (1990) | The Silence of the Lambs (1991) | Unforgiven (1992) | Schindler’s List (1993) | Forrest Gump (1994) | Braveheart (1995) | The English Patient (1996) | Titanic (1997) | Shakespeare in Love (1998) | American Beauty (1999)
21st century: Gladiator (2000) | A Beautiful Mind (2001) | Chicago (2002) | The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003) | Million Dollar Baby (2004, and book) | Crash (2005) | The Departed (2006) | No Country for Old Men (2007) | Slumdog Millionaire (2008) | The Hurt Locker (2009)
2010s: The King’s Speech (2010) | The Artist (2011) | Argo (2012) | 12 Years a Slave (2013) | Birdman (2014) | Spotlight (2015) | Moonlight (2016) | The Shape of Water (2017) | Green Book (2018) | Parasite (2019)
2020s: Nomadland (2020) | CODA (2021) | Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) | Oppenheimer (2023)

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COVID-19 hits

Quarantine strikes close to home for us. The foundation where our two girls live told us today that we cannot visit them until 3 April (and I am sure that won't be the end of it). Of course, it's for the protection of the vulnerable people who also live there, and of course B won't really notice (U will wonder why she isn't going either to school or coming to see us, but she can't really express that). I know intellectually that it's for the general good, and many people have worse consequences than we do. But it hurts.

This is the last time all five of us were together, on Christmas Day.

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Thursday reading

Current
1493, by Charles C. Mann
Babayaga, by Toby Barlow
Fleet of Knives, by Gareth A. Powell

Last books finished
The Light Brigade, by Kameron Hurley (did not finish)
Midnight Cowboy, by James Leo Herlihy
Doctor Who: The Macra Terror, by Ian Stuart Black
The Green Man’s Foe, by Juliet E. McKenna

Next books
Red Notice, by Bill Browder
Strategic Europe, ed. Jan Techau

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J.R.R. Tolkien’s inspiration for Lúthien: the “gallant” Edith Bratt, by Nancy Bunting

Second paragraph of third section, plus footnote:

Dresden House is a historic landmark in Evesham, Warwickshire, an important market town on the River Avon, both then and today. Located on the High Street, the name of this 1692 townhouse comes from Dr. Baylies, who married Elizabeth Cookes, the daughter of the builder of 'the Mansion', thereby becoming its owner. After her death, he settled as a physician at Dresden, where his skill led Frederick the Great to send for him in 1774 to reside in Berlin. He died in Berlin in 1789. Mrs. Cooper was the first to manage a Young Ladies’ School in the Mansion and gave it the name 'Dresden House' because of its connection with Dr. Baylies.32
32 http://www.valeofeveshamhistory.org/articles/dresden-house. Dr. Baylies was a memorable character. In an early interview with Dr. Baylies, "the Emperor remarked to him that to have acquired such skill he must have killed a great many people, and that the doctor replied, 'Not as many as your Majesty'.” A smooth bon mot did contribute to his job security.

This fascinating 185-page article about Edith Bratt, wife of J.R.R. Tolkien, was published online by the Journal of Tolkien Studies a couple of weeks ago, almost immediately withdrawn, I guess because the presentation was marred by some editing and formatting errors, and then republished with one of the original authors removed. There's probably a story there, but it's none of my business. I read it over an insomniac night, and it did not help me to go back to sleep. It's a scholarly article rather than a monograph, but I am counting it as a book anyway.

Most Tolkien fans will be familiar with the received version of the history of the writer and his wife (as depicted in the recent film starring Lily Collins as Edith, which incidentally I loved). They met as teenage orphaned lodgers in Birmingham; she was a couple of years older, and a Protestant; Tolkien's guardian, a Catholic priest, forbade him to have any further contact with her until he reached the age of 21 in 1913; when he got back in touch she was engaged to someone else, but broke it off to be with him and they married in 1916, just before he was posted to France for war duty. You may have seen the recent biopic, which I watched on my last transatlantic flight (and enjoyed).

When I reviewed John Garth's Tolkien and the Great War, I commented that "I would like to know more about the effect of Tolkien's relationship with his wife Edith, who he was courting and marrying at this time [the war years], on his writing. Perhaps there is little to say, or to be discovered." Well, it turns out that there was plenty to be discovered and to say.

Bunting looks in intense geographical and genealogical detail at Edith's Midlands background. She was the daughter of a businessman and his wife's maid; much of her childhood and early adult life revolved around evading the stigma of illegitimacy (she did not even tell Tolkien until after they were married) but she also inherited her father's fortune and so was able to support Tolkien during their early married life, until his academic career took off.

The authors make a compelling argument that previous writers (notably Carpenter and Garth) have neglected the importance for Tolkien's life and writing of Edith and their relationship, concentrating instead on his male friends. Indeed, my father, commenting on Carpenter's biography, wrote in 1980:

…the relationship between Tolkien & his wife [b]egins romantically, in their waiting 3 years for each other. Yet she wasn't really suited to be a don's wife. She disliked his friendship w CS Lewis, & he evidently told her to lump it. She was happy only at the v. end, when they lived in Bournemouth. Yet through it all he was fond of her – & presumably she of him, tho' the author doesn't offer evidence on this.

Thanks to their research, it becomes clear just how important the early separation from Edith, and their reunion, were for Tolkien's creativity, and how his emotional state translates into his early work (seeing Warwick – of all places! – as a mythical city). There are some other fascinating insights as well – his mother's mental lapses in the final stages of her illness perhaps informing some of the depictions of dissociation in Tolkien's work; also a reference to someone else's research on the inspiration for the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. Also this led me to the research of Seamus Hamill-Keays on the Welsh inspiration for Buckland.

The whole thing is forensically researched and illustrated. Utterly absorbing if you are interested in Tolkien, and I think probably even if you are not you'll find it a nice piece of biographical research on the life of a young woman born at the end of the nineteenth century.

Edited to add: The revised version of the article has also been withdrawn from the Journal of Tolkien Studies website. I hope it will reappear in some form someday.

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Hex, by Thomas Olde Heuvelt

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Matt had waltzed through his first year of junior high and begun his second with the hyperactive mood swings of puberty. He surrounded himself with girls from school and seemed to share their endless giggling fits as well as their PMS rages, and would go into a funk at the drop of a hat. Jocelyn had expressed her concern that Matt might come out of the closet this year or the next, and although Steve had raised his eyebrows at the idea he suspected Jocelyn was right. The idea alarmed him, not because either of them held conservative views but because he still saw Matt as what he always had been: a sweet, vulnerable child.

This novel is a horror story about a middle-class village near West Point, New York, which is haunted by a seventeenth century witch. Shades of Welcome to Night Vale, but nothing like as funny; it is very effectively told, and I read to the end, but horror as such isn't really my thing. You can get it here.

This was my top unread book acquired in 2016. Next up is Arthur C. Clarke's Venus Prime 1: Breaking Strain, by Paul Preuss.

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20/20 Vision, edited by Jerry Pournelle

Second paragraph of third story ("Silent in Gehenna", by Harlan Ellison):

Years later, the matron who discovered him on the porch remarked, looking into his eyes was like staring down a hall with empty mirrors.

I came across this when researching science fiction visions of the year 2020. It is a 1974 anthology of eight stories, six very big names on the harder side of SF – Ben Bova, Larry Niven, Harlan Ellison, Poul Anderson, A.E. van Vogt and Norman Spinrad; and two authors who I had not previously heard of, Dian Girard (though it turns out that as J.D. Crayne, she wrote Murder at the Worldcon) and Dave McDaniel, who mainly wrote Man from U.N.C.L.E novels and died suddenly in 1977 aged 38. In his introduction, Pournelle predicts, rather optimistically:

We will, many of us writers and readers, be around in 2020, medical science being what it is—-assuming that anyone will be around in 2020. By then, probably, nobody will give a hang what we said here; but the authors of this book hereby serve notice that we will buy a drink at the 2020 World Science Fiction Convention (Marscon?) for each and every reader who brings with him a copy of 20/20 Vision and points out—briefly—just where we went wrong in our visions of the future.

This year's worldcon is in Wellington, New Zealand, which is almost but not quite as exotic as Mars. Of the authors, only Bova, Niven and Spinrad are still with us, and I don't think any of the three will make it to CoNZealand.

The stories are very much of their time, with several of the authors (Bova, Ellison, van Vogt) banging drums that they banged elsewhere. The Anderson story is particularly awful; the protagonist overthrows Soviet rule in North America with a weapon that has surgically replaced his penis. The best and shortest is Girard's "Eat, Drink and Be Merry", in which a married woman of 2020 finds herself forced to cook hearty meals for husband and family while her own calorific intake is constrained so that she can maintain her lovely figure. The dark force behind this appears to be the state itself, but we can easily read across to the whole of society forcing women to live up to artificial expectations. If you want more details on the stories you can read Paul di Filippo here or James Davis Nicoll here. Or you could just get the book here.

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The Aachen Memorandum, by Andrew Roberts

Second paragraph of third chapter:

The electronic frisker on the door swallowed his I.D. card and returned it instantaneously. Then the security guards waved him through with their N-series, and after two minutes on the travelator he was there. Most employees of the daily paper were away for May Day, but some of those working on the Sunday were around. One of the advantages of having been sacked, he mused, was that he now knew precisely who were his real friends on the paper. And, more importantly, his real enemies.

Right-wing historian Andrew Roberts wrote this in 1995, foreseeing a referendum twenty years later (2015 rather than 2016), won by a 52:48 majority, as a result of which Scotland splits from England, and Ireland is reunited; and incidentally the journalist Matthew D’Ancona was on the losing side, just as he was in our timeline. Oh yeah, the Speaker of the House of Commons at the time of the referendum is John Bercow (who in 1995 was not even an MP yet, though he was clearly on that path).

This being swivel-eyed future history, of course, the referendum is on the UK’s absorption into a United States of Europe, and the story is actually set another thirty years further into the future, in 2045, as our brave but admittedly unattractive hero pursues a documentary trail indicating that the referendum result was rigged by fiendish computer manipulation. SPOILER: The exiled King William returns from New Zealand to save the day.

It’s quite engagingly written, but even on its own terms the plot is bonkers – our hero, supposedly a famous forensic historian, has displayed little interest in his own family background, which creates space for some very silly revelations when he finds out certain crucial facts about his parents and grandparents. By the end I had completely lost track of who among our hero’s friends and relatives was on which side, let alone why.

Future London has had all vestiges of British nationalism brutally removed or renamed, which wasn’t especially funny when the Two Ronnies had the Tower of London renamed Barbara Castle by Britain’s new feminazi overlords, and isn’t very funny here. There are predictable authorial whines about political correctness. Most striking of all to today’s reader is the complete lack of technological progress in half a century. There are no mobile phones – everyone uses pagers – and the electronic communications depicted in the book were already well out of date by 1995 let alone 2015 (and forget about 2045).

The author may possibly have intended this as an Awful Warning of what the federal European superstate would look like, but it comes across as a squib by a posh but insecure boy who thinks he's having a laugh with his friends, but they are quite possibly sniggering at him rather than with him. If you really want, you can get it here.

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2020 will be the most geriatric U.S. presidential election ever

(Updated from a previous post four years ago)

One extraordinary point about the 2016 election was that the combined ages of the two front-runners was by some margin the highest ever. Donald Trump turned 70 a few months before the election, and Hillary Clinton a few months after. Their combined age of 139 on Election Day was ten years more than the previous record, Reagan (73) and Mondale (56) in 1984 (total 129). Only twice before had both main candidates been over 60 – the obscure elections of 1848, when Zachary Taylor (63) beat Lewis Cass (64), and 1828 when Andrew Jackson beat John Quincy Adams (both 61). To have both over 69 was really unprecedented.

In 2020, that record will be pushed still further. The election will come a few months after Donald Trump's 74th birthday, and very soon before Joe Biden's 78th, for a combined age on election day of 151, twelve more than four years ago, and twenty-two more than any election before that. If Bernie Sanders overcomes the odds and gets the Democratic Party nomination, he will be 79 on election day and the combined total will be 153. It is the first time ever that both main candidates will be septuagenarians. (Only four times before has even one candidate been over 70 – in 1984, 1996, 2008 and 2016 – all Republicans.)

I found it striking as I crunched the numbers that the average age of candidates now is much older than it used to be. In the list of ages of the leading candidates at each election below, I've put the 17 elections since 1952 (starting with 1956) in red; the 16 elections before 1852 (ending with 1848) in blue; and the 26 elections from 1852 to 1952 inclusive in green. It's clear that the middle period saw younger candidates, with those 26 elections supplying 22 of the bottom half of the table, and 4 of the top half – in fact, none of the middle 26 are in the top 30% of the table, and the high-water mark is the comparatively youthful matchup between Hayes and Tilden in 1876. Meanwhile all five elections since 2000, and all but two of the eleven elections starting with 1980 (in darker red), are in the top third of the table. The earlier period was even more elderly, with only two elections (one of which doesn't really count) of the first 16 in the lower half of the table.

2020 Trump (74) + ?Biden? (77) = 151
2016 Trump (70) + H Clinton (69) = 139

1984 Reagan (73) + Mondale (56) = 129
1848 Taylor (63) + Cass (64) = 127
1980 Reagan (69) + Carter (56) = 125
1840 WH Harrison (67) + Van Buren (57) = 124
1996 WJ Clinton (50) + Dole (73) = 123
1956 Eisenhower (66) + Stevenson (56) = 122
1828 Jackson (61) + JQ Adams (61) = 122
1800 Jefferson (57) + J Adams (65) = 122
1832 Jackson (65) + Clay (55) =120

2008 Obama (47) + McCain (72) = 119
1988 GHW Bush (64) + Dukakis (55) = 119
1816 Monroe (58) + King (61) = 119
1808 Madison (57) + Pinckney (62) = 119
1804 Jefferson (61) + Pinckney (58) = 119

2004 GW Bush (58) + Kerry (60) = 118
1792 Washington (60) + J Adams (57) = 117 – more of an acclamation than an election
2012 Obama (51) + Romney (65) = 116
1876 Hayes (54) + Tilden (62) = 116
1844 Polk (49) + Clay (67) = 116
1836 Van Buren (53) + WH Harrison (63) = 116

1976 Carter (52) + Ford (63) = 115
1820 Monroe (62) + JQ Adams (53) = 115 – more of an acclamation than an election
1992 WJ Clinton (46) + GHW Bush (68) = 114
1952 Eisenhower (62) + Stevenson (52) = 114
1892 Cleveland (55) + B Harrison (59) = 114
1824 JQ Adams (57) + Jackson (57) = 114
1796 J Adams (61) + Jefferson (53) = 114

1916 Wilson (59) + Hughes (54) = 113
1852 Pierce (47) + Scott (66) = 113

1968 Nixon (55) + Humphrey (57) = 112
1964 Johnson (56) + Goldwater (55) = 111
1872 Grant (50) + Greeley (61) = 111
1948 Truman (64) + Dewey (46) = 110

1972 Nixon (59) + McGovern (50) = 109
1912 Wilson (55) + T Roosevelt (54) = 109
1856 Buchanan (65) + Frémont (43) = 109

1788 Washington (56) + J Adams (53) = 109 – more of an acclamation than an election
1932 FDRoosevelt (50) + Hoover (58) = 108
1928 Hoover (54) + Smith (54) = 108

2000 GW Bush (54) + Gore (52) = 106
1940 FD Roosevelt (58) + Wilkie (48) = 106
1888 B Harrison (55) + Cleveland (51) = 106
1920 Harding (55) + Cox (50) = 105
1884 Cleveland (47) + Blaine (58) = 105
1944 FD Roosevelt (62) + Dewey (42) = 104
1880 Garfield (48) + Hancock (56) = 104
1868 Grant (46) + Seymour (58) = 104

1812 Madison (61) + DW Clinton (43) = 104
1936 FD Roosevelt (54) + Landon (49) = 103
1924 Coolidge (52) + Davis (51) = 103
1908 Taft (51) + Bryan (48) = 99
1904 T Roosevelt (46) + Parker (52) = 98
1900 McKinley (57) + Bryan (40) = 97
1864 Lincoln (55) + McClellan (37) = 92
1860 Lincoln (51) + Breckinridge (39) = 90

1960 Kennedy (42) + Nixon (47) = 89
1896 McKinley (53) + Bryan (36) = 89

Note on methodology: I've taken candidates' ages in calendar years on election day. (Which for Warren Harding was his 55th birthday, for all the good it did him.) In 1800 I count Adams (65) not Burr (44) as runner-up since that's who voters thought they were choosing between in November. For 1872 I've counted Greeley (61) as losing candidate even though he died shortly after the election; most of his electoral votes went to Thomas Hendricks (53) who went on to be Tilden's running mate in 1876 (they lost) and Cleveland's in 1884 (they won, but Hendricks died a few months after taking office). I have not counted third or lower placed candidates at all (thus excluding incumbent President Taft in 1912, when he was 55).

Incidentally the older candidate has won 33 times, and the younger 25 times. But those 33 include three elections which were really acclamations (1788, 1792 and 1820) so the fact that the Adamses were younger than Washington or Monroe doesn't really matter (indeed, there are good grounds for excluding those elections from my list entirely). The most recent period shows a shift of fortune in favour of (relative) youth; of the 17 most recent elections, the younger candidate has won nine and the older eight; the younger candidate has won the popular votre in each of the last seven elections (but lost twice in the electoral college).

We are not yet at the stage of Henry Gassaway Davis, who was the Democratic Party's candidate for Vice-President in 1904; election day was shortly before his 81st birthday. He and his presidential candidate, Alton B. Parker, lost the popular vote to Theodore Roosevelt and Charles Fairbanks by a margin of 19% in the popular vote and by 336 to 140 in the electoral college. But if Biden or Sanders contests the 2024 election, Davis's record will fall.

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June 2005 books

No Crisis Group publications in June 2005, though I did get quoted in the Financial Times again, and just the one trip, to Belfast to speak at a conference. And B had her eighth birthday.

Her birthday was also the day of the last episode of the first series of New Who. Did I mention that I met Christopher Eccleston last month?

Young F took the first steps towards freedom of movement:

And I did my traditional big review of the Hugo written fiction nominees.

Books I read in June 2005 (not that many):

Non-fiction 2 (YTD 21)
The Best of Xero, by Pat and Dick Lupoff
With Stars In My Eyes: My Adventures in British Fandom, by Peter Weston

Non-genre fiction 1 (YTD 2)
The Trial, by Franz Kafka

SF 4 (YTD 36)
The Best of the Best: 20 Years of the Year's Best Science Fiction, ed. Gardner Dozois
The Assassin's Edge, by Juliet E. McKenna
The Shadow of the Torturer, by Gene Wolfe
The Claw of the Conciliator, by Gene Wolfe

2,400 pages (YTD 22,700)
2/7 by women (YTD 16/63)
None by PoC

These are all good books, though I don't rave about Gene Wolfe to the extent that others do. If I have to pick one as my favourite of the month, it's Gardner Dozois' Best of the Best, which you can get here.

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Thursday reading

Moving the weekly notes because of leap year.

Current
1493, by Charles C. Mann
Babayaga, by Toby Barlow
The Light Brigade, by Kameron Hurley

Last books finished
J.R.R. Tolkien’s inspiration for Lúthien: the “gallant” Edith Bratt, by Nancy Bunting and Seamus Hamill-Keays (strictly a scholarly article rather than a book, but it’s 195 pages so I am tallying it here.)
The Almost Nearly Perfect People: Behind the Myth of Scandinavia’s Utopia, by Michael Booth
The Golden Fleece, by Robert Graves
Small Island, by Andrea Levy
Deeplight, by Frances Hardinge
Die, vol 1: Fantasy Heartbreaker, by Kieron Gillen, Stephanie Hans and Clayton Cowles

Next books
Red Notice, by Bill Browder
Strategic Europe, ed. Jan Techau

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A Popular History of Ireland, by Thomas D’Arcy McGee

Second paragraph of third chapter (a long one, I’m afraid):

The best accounts agree that Patrick was a native of Gaul, then subject to Rome; that he was carried captive into Erin on one of King Nial's returning expeditions; that he became a slave, as all captives of the sword did, in those iron times; that he fell to the lot of one Milcho, a chief of Dalriada, whose flocks he tended for seven years, as a shepherd, on the mountain called Slemish, in the present county of Antrim. The date of Nial's death, and the consequent return of his last expedition, is set down in all our annals at the year 405; as Patrick was sixteen years of age when he reached Ireland, he must have been born about the year 390; and as he died in the year 493, he would thus have reached the extraordinary, but not impossible age of 103 years. Whatever the exact number of his years, it is certain that his mission in Ireland commenced in the year 432, and was prolonged till his death, sixty-one years afterwards. Such an unprecedented length of life, not less than the unprecedented power, both popular and political, which he early attained, enabled him to establish the Irish Church, during his own time, on a basis so broad and deep, that neither lapse of ages, nor heathen rage, nor earthly temptations, nor all the arts of Hell, have been able to upheave its firm foundations. But we must not imagine that the powers of darkness abandoned the field without a struggle, or that the victory of the cross was achieved without a singular combination of courage, prudence, and determination—God aiding above all.

McGee is a fascinating character, a Young Irelander who crossed the Atlantic and shifted dramatically from urging American annexation of Canada to playing a key role in the creation of the Canadian confederation in 1867, the year before he was assassinated coming home from a parliamentary debate in Ottawa (where he represented Montreal). He was one of the most noted orators of his time, and his death sent shockwaves through the Canadian political system (the only other serious Canadian political assassination was Laporte in 1970, over a century later, and that may have been unintentional; I do not count George Brown in 1880, who was killed in an employment dispute after he had retired from active politics).

Great orator he may have been, but his 1860 Popular History of Ireland is deadly dull, and I did not make it past the year 879 – chloroform in print, as Mark Twain so unkindly said of the Book of Mormon. Perhaps it livens up in the more modern period, but the early chapters are simply lists of kings without much sense of what if anything they actually did. I skipped ahead to some of the eras that I know a bit more about, and, well, the kindest thing to be said is that most of it has been overtaken by more recent scholarship. I am pretty sure that I got this for free from Amazon. (At least, I hope I did not pay for it.)

Third of three books in a row that I could not finish.

This was my top unread book acquired in 2012. Next on that pile is The European Parliament by Francis Jacobs, Richard Corbett, and Michael Shackleton.

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Arc of the Dream, by A.A. Attanasio

Second paragraph of third chapter (which I didn't actually reach):

Reena Patai sat alone in the courtyard in the purple shadow of the chestnut tree, and she crossed herself when she heard those words. The voice came to her from nowhere—not from the anemic thoughts of the mad, which continued to chew her hearing with their baffled mutterings though midnight peaked over the dark asylum—and not from the night matron subvocalizing a paperback about a woman’s second chance at love. The voice was Satan’s own.

I got ten pages into this and realised that I would get no further; the writing style is simply awful. I mean, look at the above – "chew her hearing"??? "midnight peaked"??? "subvocalizing a paperback"??? Turns out to be the third of a four-part series, which surely did not help my appreciation. If you want, you can get it here.

Second of three books in a row that I could not finish (and of the three, the one I cast aside most quickly).

This was my top unread book acquired in 2014. (Must have been an electronic freebie of some kind; I'd be worried if I actually paid for it.) Next is Sleepers of Mars, by John Wyndham, of which I have higher hopes.

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The Critique of Pure Reason, by Immanuel Kant

Second paragraph of third chapter (actually I found it rather difficult to count to three here, but this will do):

The effect of an object upon the faculty of representation, so far as we are affected by the said object, is sensation. That sort of intuition which relates to an object by means of sensation is called an empirical intuition. The undetermined object of an empirical intuition is called phenomenon. Die Wirkung eines Gegenstandes auf die Vorstellungsfähigkeit, so fern wir von demselben afficirt werden, ist Empfindung. Dieienige Anschauung, welche sich auf den Gegenstand durch Empfindung bezieht, heißt empirisch. Der unbestimmte Gegenstand einer empirischen Anschauung, heißt Erscheinung.

I gave up on this about a quarter of the way in. Basically, Kant is not asking questions that I am interested in, nor answering them in a way that inclines me to take an interest. Wikipedia tells me that "Kant's goal was to find some way to derive cause and effect without relying on empirical knowledge." I can't see why anyone would want to do such a thing, and the almost complete separation of the subject matter from practical reality frustrated me (even though I do realise that this was largely the point). It was mildly interesting to see in his discussion of time and space some precursor to Einstein's conceptions of the same, but not interesting enough to keep me going. If you really want to, you can get it here.

First of three books in a row that I simply could not finish.

This was the non-fiction book that had lingered longest unread on my shelves. Next would have been Kant's Critique of Practical Reason, but I think I'll give that a miss and go straight to Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations.

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The Cambridge University Ballet Club Lent Term performance

I was in Cambridge yesterday and found I had time to attend the first half of the Cambridge University Ballet Club's Lent Term matinee performance. I have only been to one ballet before, "Giselle" in Bratislava last year, but it happened that I had time to kill on a wet Saturday afternoon and spotted this diversion in the West Road concert hall. Unfortunately shortage of time meant I missed the main programme item, a choreography of Mendlesohn's "Midsummer Night's Dream", but I caught the first two, based around Dukas' "Sorcerer's Apprentice" and Rimsky-Korsakov's "Sheherazade", both of which are favourite pieces of mine anyway. Here are Victor Gomez and Talia Regan as Sultan Shahriyar and the title character in the second of these. (Photo from the programme – obviously you can't take photos or film the performance.)

We started with "The Sorcerer's Apprentice", where apart from Finn Longman in the title role, I was really impressed by Lillian Wang as the First Broom, and was not surprised to learn from the programme book that she started ballet at the age of seven in Beijing. The piece required a lot of ensemble co-ordinating, where some of the cast were maybe a little less co-ordinated than others.

Sheherazade was a real tour de force. I noted above the two leads, one of whom has been doing ballet since the age of nine and the other since the age of three. All of the other soloists were pretty good – the two who really grabbed my attention as much for the dynamic they had going between them as for their dancing skill were Scott Lee and Anastasia Stulova as Alaeddin and his wife Lady Badr al-Budur. She has been dancing since the age of 5; he took it up only two years ago. There is hope for all of us.

scan0003.jpg

The unseen star of the show, of course, was the choreographer, Joanna Lawrence, who is also the Ballet Club’s president. It’s an extraordinary feat of creativity to turn three well-loved pieces of classical music into new forms of dance. There were lots of lovely touches with the dancers responding to the music to convey elements of the story. She is apparently doing a PhD on Bronze Age Scandinavian rock art. I wonder whether her skill in choreography will turn out to be her future.

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