The Heart’s Time, ed. Janet Morley

Opening of third chapter, the poem “Lent” by Jean M. Watt:

Lent is a tree without blossom, without leaf,
Barer than blackthorn in its winter sleep,
All unadorned. Unlike Christmas which decrees
The setting-up, the dressing-up of trees,
Lent is a taking down, a stripping bare,
A starkness after all has been withdrawn
Of surplus and superfluous,
Leaving no hiding-place, only an emptiness
Between black branches, a most precious space
Before the leaf, before the time of flowers;
Lest we should see only the leaf, the flower,
Lest we should miss the stars.

This is a devotional book, not my usual genre, with a poem for every day of Lent (other than Sunday) and for the week after Easter, plus a page or two of reflection and spiritual challenge for the reader. I was reading it two months late, and perhaps am not the target audience, but I did enjoy discovering a few more poems. Here is Philip Larkin’s “The Trees”:

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

And here is “The Skylight”, a sonnet by Seamus Heaney, which starts off as a domestic architectural argument, and then abruptly twists to the Biblical:

You were the one for skylights, I opposed
Cutting into the seasoned tongue-and-groove
Of pitch pine. I liked it low and closed,
Its claustrophobic, nest-up-in-the-roof
Effect, I liked the snuff-dry feeling,
The perfect, trunk-lid fit of the old ceiling.
Under there, it was all hutch and hatch,
The blue slates kept the heat like midnight thatch.

But when the slates came off, extravagant
Sky entered and held surprise wide open,
For days I felt like an inhabitant
Of that house where the man sick of the palsy
Was lowered through the roof, had his sins forgiven,
Was healed, took up his bed and walked away.

Sometimes it’s good to admit that you were wrong!

You can get the book here.

This was the shortest unread book that we had acquired in 2018. Next on that pile (if I can find it) is an official Norn Iron publication on The Combined Election of 2001.

My Mama, Cass: A Memoir, by Owen Elliot-Kugell

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Silver relied on his many connections to get the Big 3 booked on The Danny Kaye Show and The Tonight Show, but unfortunately the record company failed to market and promote the album, and sales were disappointing.

Most people will have bought this because they are interested in the subject, and I am probably unusual in that I came to it more interested in the author. Owen Elliot-Kugell is one of my twins, born like me on 26 April 1967, along with Trish Doller, Warren Read and Nicki Elson, and the book is half the story of her mother and half her own story after her mother’s early death.

Her mother was Cass Elliot, born Ellen Cohen, who enjoyed a meteoric career as one of the Mamas and the Papas in the late 1960s, and I must admit that I found myself being thoroughly earwormed by the Mamas and the Papas greatest hits as I read the book. Cass Elliot struggled with obesity throughout her adult life, and died of a heart attack aged 32 in London in 1974, leaving a seven-year-old daughter (whose biological father had never been part of her life).

Owen Elliott-Kugell, admittedly not a dispassionate observer, thinks that her mother was the best singer of the Mamas and the Papas, and I agree that there is a very good case. Perhaps the best showcase of her vocals is “Dream a Little Dream of Me”, where sadly there doesn’t seem to be any readily available footage of the group performing, but there is plenty of audio:

She also made it one of her signature songs in her solo career:

She also took the lead in the Mamas and the Papas’ performance of “Dancing in the Streets”, here live at the 1967 Monterey festival, just a few weeks after baby Owen was born:

But even in the songs where one of the other group members takes the lead, you can hear Elliot’s vocals soaring and swooping, making the music as memorable as it was. The internal personal dynamics of the group were often poisonous, but as an ensemble their performances are riveting fifty-five years on.

After the inevitable break-up of the Mamas and the Papas, Cass Elliot had a decent enough solo career but struggled to reach quite the same heights. Occasional failures, such as her first live show in Las Vegas, were devastating. Her weight was always an issue, and in the months before her death she had in fact been hospitalised several times as a result of fainting and similar problems. (It had started early; one of The Mamas and The Papas’ songs had the repeated lyric: “And no one’s getting fat, except Mama Cass”.) Her size became part of her branding, but it must have been awfully uncomfortable for her. She starred as herself in an episode of Scooby Doo a few months before her death; and the fat-shaming jokes in the script (in a show aimed at children of the age that her daughter and I would both have been at the time) are pretty awful.

Cass Elliot conceived her daughter fully intending to be a single parent, and was by Owen Elliot-Kugell’s account a dedicated mother, though clueless about money (she died intestate, and her estate remained in debt until the invention of the compact disc a decade later liberated a new revenue flow). Owen describes the rush of emotions on hearing for the first time, twelve years after her mother died, the introduction to her song “Lady Love”:

One of the iconic photographs of Elliot’s (perhaps too generous) hospitality has the baby Owen chewing on a film canister, watching Joni Mitchell performing songs from her as yet unreleased first album. Eric Clapton waves a joint at the photographer (Henry Diltz) and a glowering David Crosby smokes a rollup. (Crosby, Stills and Nash were put together by Cass Elliot.)

The book is a tremendously moving portrait of a great musical talent and a loving parent who died too soon. There is one rather obvious gap – Cass Elliot’s brief marriage to a journalist in 1971 is not mentioned at all, though it’s mentioned in every other reference to her life. Owen told the Guardian that this was because “he talked shit about her. And it wasn’t like their marriage changed her life. He was just another opportunist.”

The second half of the book covers the author’s life after her mother’s death. She was adopted by her mother’s sister and brother-in-law (also musicians) in Massachusetts, but as a young adult gravitated back to her grandmother in Los Angeles, where she found a boyfriend (also a musician) and married him; they have two children, now adults, the older born when Owen was 32, the same age as her mother when she died.

A particularly poignant subplot explores how Elliot-Kugell found her biological father at the age of twenty; he had never been part of her life before and did not become a major part of it after, except at the end of his own life when she became responsible for sorting things out, there being nobody else available. But the whole book is basically about her relationship with her mother, who died fifty years ago next month. I must say that I ate it up. You can get it here.

Tuesday Reading

Current
Doctor Zhivago, by Boris Pasternak
Casting Off, by Elizabeth Jane Howard
Electoral Laws and their Political Consequences, eds. Bernard Grofman and Arend Lijphart
Your Wish is My Command [Shubeik Lubeik], by Deena Mohammed

Last books finished
Black Helicopters, by Caitlin R. Kiernan
Unraveller, by Frances Hardinge

Next books
The One, by Si Spurrier et al
Dangerous Waters, by Juliet E. McKenna
Fevered Star, by Rebecca Roanhorse

Best Novel Hugo 2024

Again, I’m not discussing my votes, but here is the second paragraph of the third chapter of each of the finalists.

Witch King, by Martha Wells

So far the voyage hadn’t been as bad as Kai had feared. But waking up dead and entombed had invited some unpleasant memories into his dreams, mixed with fading nightmares still written into this new body’s flesh. Like so many aspects of mortal life, sleep was overrated. He said, “Do you know where we are?”

The Saint of Bright Doors, by Vajra Chandrasekara

When he makes conversation, on a third date like this one with Hejmen, for instance, he does his best to be open and vulnerable. It’s easier to open up while they sit at an outdoor café in the darkening evening, lit by the smouldering canopy of the flame trees above. He’ll talk about his childhood at length, but not about his teens.

Starter Villain, by John Scalzi

“Hello, Hera,” I said. I plucked the kitten from my shoulder and brought it down to Hera’s eye level. “I’ve brought you something.” I set the kitten down in front of her and waited.

Translation State, by Ann Leckie

I wasn’t an extra. I toddled out of the Tiny beds and into the slightly wider world of the Littles with not a care. By the time I grew from Little to Small, I had developed a comfortable sense of my own importance to the world, to the other Smalls around me. I knew that the larger figures around us who fed us, who instructed us in various proprieties (don’t put that in your ear!; no, don’t bite off her finger!) would keep me safe and comfortable.

Some Desperate Glory, by Emily Tesh

Vic called Arti’s name after her, but she didn’t look back.

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, by Shannon Chakraborty

My mother had put my clothes, my weapons, my tools—all that made me the infamous Amina al-Sirafi—into storage, and unearthing the woman I used to be, carefully tucked and folded away by another’s hand, was disorienting. I had once delighted in color and flash, known by reputation to traipse about in whatever royal silks, meltingly thin muslins, and silver headdresses I had recently plundered. Part of it was about cultivating the confidence I needed to survive my chosen profession—a little madness goes a long way in convincing men that you might stab them if they step out of line.

The Notes and Commonplace Book of H.P. Lovecraft, ed. Sean Brandy and Andrew Leaman

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Premature burial.

I picked this up at the Lovecraft Arts and Sciences bookstore in Providence last December, a 2020 reproduction of a 1938 publication of Lovecraft’s Commonplace Book and notes on story-writing, with some extra material which is mainly synopses of other writers’ stories. Lovecraft is of course hugely problematic, but his notes on story-telling are insightful.

I was very interested by the first section, on the writing process, where he advises aspiring writers to start with a chronological list of the events in the story and only then to look at how the narrative will reflect them – actually really smart advice, and better writers than Lovecraft have struggled with it. Otherwise there’s not really much there. Still, you can get it here.

The best known books set in each country: Bangladesh

See here for methodology.

TitleAuthorGoodreads
raters
LibraryThing
owners
White TeethZadie Smith158,35413,672
Midnight’s ChildrenSalman Rushdie124,29713,922
Brick LaneMonica Ali33,8075,351
The Hungry TideAmitav Ghosh18,5011,828
The Henna WarsAdiba Jaigirdar27,873471
Banker to the Poor: Micro-Lending and the Battle Against World PovertyMuhammad Yunus 10,1151,284
Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake DatingAdiba Jaigirdar 32,040397
The Shadow LinesAmitav Ghosh 8,408839

Much more than any country so far, the literature that Goodreads and LibraryThing users identify with Bangladesh is largely about the emigrant experience, or about Bangladesh viewed from India. Since I have to exclude a book if it’s not at least 50% set in the country of interest, that actually knocks out seven of the top eight books on GR/LT set in Bangladesh.

White Teeth and Brick Lane are both set in London, and The Henna Wars and Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating are both set in Dublin. Midnight’s Children is mainly set in India, though with a memorable section in Bangladesh. The Shadow Lines is about the consequences of the creation of Bangladesh, but mainly told from Calcutta and London. The Hungry Tide is set in the Sundarban islands, but mainly on the Indian side. I should say that these all sound like excellent books, and I’ll keep an eye out for them.

But today’s winner is the story of Nobel Peace Prize winner Muhammad Yunus, and how he founded the micro-credit Grameen Bank to fight poverty in Bangladesh and elsewhere. You can get it here. The Bangladeshi authorities have been persecuting him lately, and I hope that they stop.

The top fiction book on GR/LT metrics which is by a Bangladeshi writer and mostly set in Bangladesh is The Love & Lies of Rukhsana Ali by Sabina Khan.

Next: Russia.

Asia: India | China | Indonesia | Pakistan | Bangladesh (revised) | Russia | Japan | Philippines (revised) | Vietnam | Iran | Türkiye | Thailand | Myanmar | South Korea | Iraq | Afghanistan | Yemen | Uzbekistan | Malaysia | Saudi Arabia | Nepal | North Korea | Syria | Sri Lanka | Taiwan | Kazakhstan | Cambodia | Jordan | UAE | Tajikistan | Israel
Americas: USA | Brazil (revised) | Mexico | Colombia | Argentina | Canada | Peru | Venezuela | Guatemala | Ecuador | Bolivia | Haiti | Dominican Republic | Honduras | Cuba
Africa: Nigeria | Ethiopia (revised) | Egypt | DR Congo | Tanzania | South Africa | Kenya | Sudan | Uganda | Algeria | Morocco | Angola | Mozambique | Ghana | Madagascar | Côte d’Ivoire | Cameroon | Niger | Mali | Burkina Faso | Malawi | Zambia | Chad | Somalia | Senegal | Zimbabwe | Guinea | Benin | Rwanda | Burundi | Tunisia | South Sudan | Togo
Europe: Russia | Türkiye | Germany | France | UK | Italy | Spain | Poland | Ukraine | Romania | Netherlands | Belgium | Sweden | Czechia | Azerbaijan | Portugal | Greece | Hungary
Oceania: Australia | Papua New Guinea

Could the European Parliament elections be more European? Perhaps not.

This is a response to How to make the European elections more European, a paper published last week by Sophia Russack and Nicolai von Ondarza of the Centre for European policy Studies (CEPS). In their paper, the authors bemoan “the elections’ low visibility (mainly due to a largely unharmonised electoral framework) and their perceived low stakes (mainly due to lacking a link between the elections to the legislature and the head of the EU’s executive arm, the Commission)”. They make some recommendations as to how things could be improved:

  • the EU should “fully honour” the election result, which seems to mean involving the European Parliament at an earlier stage in planning the 2024-2029 workplan
  • political parties should pledge to make the European element of future European Parliament elections more visible
  • future elections should have transnational party lists, led by each party’s candidate for President of the European Commission; the winner would get the job.

I know and like CEPS, where I worked from 1999 to 2002, and I know and like Sophia Russack (though I don’t know her co-author). But I disagree with the analysis in the paper, and with the conclusions.

The core issue is not, as Russack and von Ondarza would have it, the weakness of the link between your European Parliament vote and the next President of the European Commission. Much more important is a related but distinct problem: the very weak connection between voting choice and policy outcomes. In most elections in Europe, whether national, regional, provincial or municipal, you are choosing potential players for the executive branch of government. By contrast, European Union policy choices are negotiated between the Commission, the elected Parliament and the elected governments of all 27 members states in a process that is complex but fairly open and well-understood by those inside it (and by close observers like myself). Your vote for an MEP doesn’t very directly impact what the Commission does.

This is not unique to the EU. In the United States, where the divide between the legislative and executive branches is constitutionally entrenched, your vote for Congress is a vote for someone who will scrutinise the executive and hold it to account; meanwhile your vote for President is your vote on government policy. The two are separate things. There are good arguments to be made about the extent to which the USA is really democratic, but the separation of powers is not usually cited as one of them.

I am sure that in any future negotiations over reform of the EU Treaties, the European Parliament will shift the balance of decision-making power further in its own direction, because it has successfully done so in every previous treaty negotiation. But there is only so far that it can go; national governments are not going to be abolished, and the Parliament is in the end a co-legislator and scrutineer, with only a limited ability to propose new policy measures of its own.

EU policy-making is necessarily complex and broad-based, and does not need to be very adversarial. The democratically elected governments of the member states are key elements in the legislative process. The European Parliament elections are far from being the only path through which you as a citizen can influence EU policies. The framing of the problem as one that can be solved by giving the European Parliament more power seems to me to start from the desired conclusion and work backwards.

And this goes even more for the “Spitzenkandidat” concept, the idea that EU democracy will be enhanced if voters know that the largest transnational party’s pre-designated lead candidate will become the new President of the European Commission, as happened in 2019 when Jean-Claude Juncker was chosen, but then did not happen in 2024 when the EPP’s German lead candidate Manfred Weber was dumped by the EPP German Chancellor in favour of her defence minister Ursula von der Leyen. (The right decision, in my own view.)

I always thought that the Spitzenkandidat concept was a bad idea. It is a swizz on voters, because even if it works (as it arguably did in 2019, though in fact the EPP got fewer votes in that election than the Socialists), the policies of the new Commission are not solely determined by the new Commission President; the Berlaymont is not the White House. Instead, as with all EU decisions, the Commission’s work programme is developed by a consensus-building process; the Commission itself is a grand coalition of political ideologies, and so is the Council (the formal gathering of member states).

At a CEPS conference a few years ago, I asked a very senior adviser to the then EPP President of the Commission what difference it would actually have made in terms of policy outcomes if his boss’s Socialist rival had been President instead. The adviser giggled and was unable to answer. Which I think is fair enough. In an alternate universe where the Socialist candidate had won, the ideas going into the Commission’s work programme would have been the same – both EPP and Socialists would have been strongly represented, and anyway did not have very different platforms – the decision-making process would have been the same, and the outcome different only because of the face of the person making the speeches at the end. (The CEPS conference was under the Chatham House rule so I won’t say who my interlocutor was, though you have probably guessed correctly.)

Actually the consensus-building, grindingly deliberative process of EU policy-making is a Good Thing. These are important decisions that affect hundreds of millions of people. It’s absolutely right that, both formally and informally, the system is forced to engaged a broad base of stakeholders to get their buy-in. It’s not clear to me that making this more adversarial will lead to better outcomes, and it seems to me that supporters of the Spitzenkandidat process want to portray it as more adversarial than it actually is. The big gulf in EU policy-making is between those who want to make it work, and those who don’t, and the latter will never nominate a Spitzenkandidat anyway.

There is an additional neglected weakness of the Spitzenkandidat concept. No sensible prime minister or serving government minister will want to put themselves forward. It would mean taking leave of absence (officially or unofficially) from your government duties for weeks or potentially months, in order to front up the EU-wide campaign that would be required, while sending the message to your home country that you consider them to be second best. Prime ministers do not always make the best Commissioners, let alone Commission Presidents, but the Spitzenkandidat system eliminates them from the pool of potential candidates immediately.

And it’s not clear to me (having attended a couple of them) that an assembly of a couple of hundred European party delegates choosing their Spitzenkandidat has greater democratic legitimacy to determine Europe’s future leadership than do the 27 democratically elected governments.

Looking at the United States, would it really be such a good idea to shift the EU political process to be more like that of our American friends? The low turnout at European Parliament elections is disappointing from the democratic purist point of view; but has anyone considered that it may also indicate a level of trust in the system and confidence in the outcome, so that your vote is not really needed to nudge policies in the right direction? Which is why anti-system parties do comparatively well – their voters are less satisfied with the EU, and therefore more inclined to turn out.

So, how could the European Parliament elections be more European? My provocative answer is that they are already a good reflection of what the EU actually is, rather than what some people may want it to be: twenty-seven (or more) different campaigns, adapted to local circumstances but with a European flavour (both pro and anti EU). I don’t think it is fair to criticise political parties for the lack of European-ness in their campaigns. They need votes and they must adapt to local circumstances, and if making their campaigns “more European” was likely to increase their vote, you can bet that they would be doing it already.

Anyway, thanks to Sophia Russack and Nicolai von Ondarza for helping me to crystallize these thoughts, even if I have ended up disagreeing with them.

Normally when I review books on this blog, I quote the second paragraph of the third chapter to give my reader a flavour of the writing. This paper has only a few sections, but the second paragraph of the third one is:

Subsequently, citizens often vote in EP elections less strategically (‘with their head’) or according to their ideological preferences (‘with their heart’), but rather as a form of protest (‘with their boot’). Since voters do not generally perceive their votes as having to decide between rival policy programmes, the EP electoral contest fails to significantly incentivise political parties to develop competing policy ideas that would encourage political debate and lead to genuine attempts to influence public opinion. In short, the less that’s at stake, the less likely that people are motivated to show up and if they do show up, they’re more likely to vote against their current government as a clear sign of unhappiness with its performance.