ZenHalfTimeCrock
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It does feel a bit like we are all trapped inside some kind of Ballardian dystopia right now.
It does feel a bit like we are all trapped inside some kind of Ballardian dystopia right now.
Last summer, I don't know why, I got on a ‘jag’ (as the Americans say) to do with elite high-altitude mountain climbing. I should say that I've only once done any climbing at all (in a valley in north Wales, around Llanberis), and I was terrified all the time, even though I was roped. And I've never had any interest in climbing, especially not Alpine level.
I think it was because it was so bloody, unbearably hot that I wanted to ‘go’ somewhere really cold. Virtually speaking, that is. I got kind of obsessed with what serious climbers call the eight thousanders. That is, people who climb the peaks of 8000 metres and above. Which is apparently very hard to do, and extremely dangerous (the highest I've been is a mere 4000 metres, in the Bolivian Andes, and I felt really weird most of the time). I think it started with reading a depressing article about how Everest base camp is now basically becoming a bear garden for all sorts of charlies who just want to take selfies to say they've been there. From there, I chanced across a documentary on Youtube about the disastrous ascent of Everest in 1996, in which many climbers lost their lives. One thing led to another (there's a lot of good stuff on Youtube, an excellent documentary on the climbing of Annapurna's south face by Chris Bonnington and his team, fascinating interviews by Geoff Powter (who is both a high-altitude climber and a psychologist of climbing). Etc., etc.
Anyway, I got really interested in K2, which is the grail for climbers, and a killer mountain, for all sorts of technical reasons which I won't go into. If you don't have time for fiction, and if you want to surprise yourself by reading a book on a subject that, on the face of it, you would normally have no interest in, read K2: Life and Death on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain. Viesturs writes well, he organises the book around a series of studies of ascents of K2 over the twentieth century. He's especially good on what went wrong (when it did go wrong, which was often). I found it an utterly gripping read. It took me right out of myself. Might be a very good book to read in these strange times, when there is really only one subject on the table.
Seconded, a fantastic, hilarious book. Matched by the documentary, DOA. Here's a snippet:Just noticed that this has been reissued.
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From one of the reviews:
'There was a similarly titled autobiography published by Cherry Red in 2006, now out-of-print, but this is a new, updated, longer version of the story. More photos, 10 by 7 inch hardback and funnier and more outrageous than ever. Rotten, Strummer, Scabies, Shelley, Weller, Idol, Sid… everyone makes an appearance… and Blade pulls no punches.
Despite what every other punk rock writer and critic will tell you, this is the best book about punk rock in England 1976-78. No question.'
More here:
https://louderthanwar.com/outside-v...a-teenage-punk-rocker-andy-blade-book-review/
I have the older edition and can vouch for the reviewer's claim. It's a superb evocation of the times and very funny. It may be expensive to acquire but is definitely worth £20.
Yes, Life and Death is a great book; Anotoli Boukreev's The Climb is in the same genre; his account of the Everest disaster - he puts straight some of the facts he contests that were written in Krakauer's "Into Thin Air" again, another great book.Last summer, I don't know why, I got on a ‘jag’ (as the Americans say) to do with elite high-altitude mountain climbing. I should say that I've only once done any climbing at all (in a valley in north Wales, around Llanberis), and I was terrified all the time, even though I was roped. And I've never had any interest in climbing, especially not Alpine level.
I think it was because it was so bloody, unbearably hot that I wanted to ‘go’ somewhere really cold. Virtually speaking, that is. I got kind of obsessed with what serious climbers call the eight thousanders. That is, people who climb the peaks of 8000 metres and above. Which is apparently very hard to do, and extremely dangerous (the highest I've been is a mere 4000 metres, in the Bolivian Andes, and I felt really weird most of the time). I think it started with reading a depressing article about how Everest base camp is now basically becoming a bear garden for all sorts of charlies who just want to take selfies to say they've been there. From there, I chanced across a documentary on Youtube about the disastrous ascent of Everest in 1996, in which many climbers lost their lives. One thing led to another (there's a lot of good stuff on Youtube, an excellent documentary on the climbing of Annapurna's south face by Chris Bonnington and his team, fascinating interviews by Geoff Powter (who is both a high-altitude climber and a psychologist of climbing). Etc., etc.
Anyway, I got really interested in K2, which is the grail for climbers, and a killer mountain, for all sorts of technical reasons which I won't go into. If you don't have time for fiction, and if you want to surprise yourself by reading a book on a subject that, on the face of it, you would normally have no interest in, read K2: Life and Death on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain. Viesturs writes well, he organises the book around a series of studies of ascents of K2 over the twentieth century. He's especially good on what went wrong (when it did go wrong, which was often). I found it an utterly gripping read. It took me right out of myself. Might be a very good book to read in these strange times, when there is really only one subject on the table.
The Unfortunates by Johnson is utterly amazing; you really should get a copy; it's written in such a unique way, I won't spoil it!Songs They Never Play on the Radio is the best book I have ever read on music (though Julian Cope's Head On comes close to claiming the prize spot).
Peter Hook is also an excellent raconteur when it comes to music business anecdotes and observations. Have only read the Joy Division book but must watch out for the others.
This Is It and The Way of Zen are also good. I was surprised to discover that Watts seems to have become an alcoholic in later life, in spite of his espousal of the Perennial Philosophy.
That's the Johnson novel that I haven't read. But I enjoyed Christy Malry's Own Double Entry (a wonderful novel about Accountancy of all things) and House Mother Normal.
Would be interested to know more about the Mailer. Why is it so long, for example?
A terrific novel. Is IQ84 worth the bother?
I have both of these but haven't got around to them yet.
The most recent book that I read was this.
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It comes with an endorsement from Yuval Noah Harari.
This isn't a publication that would ordinarily attract my curiosity as I have no interest in ingesting this type of substance (or didn't until I got to the end of this). However, I have been intrigued by reports on the most recent clinical trials suggesting that psychedelics can help with intractable, treatment-resistant depression, addiction, and the angst that accompanies terminal illnesses.
"Many of the people I'd interviewed had started out stone cold materialists and atheists, no more spiritually developed than I, and yet several had had 'mystical experiences' that left them with the unshakeable conviction that there was something more to this world than we know - a 'beyond' of some kind that transcended the material universe I presume to constitute the whole shebang. I thought often about one of the cancer patients I interviewed, an avowed atheist who had nevertheless found herself 'bathed in God's love'. "
The author (and most of the main researchers) nevertheless maintain an agnostic and pragmatic view of the experiences reported by the recipients of the entheogens they are working with in the clinical trials. For more on this, see here:
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/02/09/trip-treatment
The Unfortunates by Johnson is utterly amazing; you really should get a copy; it's written in such a unique way, I won't spoil it!
Mailer - my favourite author (just pipping Clive James) Executioner's Song won him the Pulitzer Prize. It's long; it's spellbinding. It delves deep into the mind of a murderer, holds a flame to the feet of American society and is just such a damn good read. Oswald's Tale, Naked and the Dead, Tough Guys Don't Dance, The Fight, the list is (almost) endless. Mailer was a lexical genius as well as being a pugilist, a womaniser, a drinker, a foul-mouthed ranter. He could argue with his own shadow. But what arguments!
The Unfortunates by Johnson is utterly amazing; you really should get a copy; it's written in such a unique way, I won't spoil it!
Mailer - my favourite author (just pipping Clive James) Executioner's Song won him the Pulitzer Prize. It's long; it's spellbinding. It delves deep into the mind of a murderer, holds a flame to the feet of American society and is just such a damn good read.
Ballard! Now you're talking. Cocaine Nights. Super-Cannes. Crash. One of most underrated British writers of the last eighty years or so.
Been reading Kevin Keegan's latest autobiography
As a kid he lived near a funeral home and sometimes secretly looked at the corpses
And he had a job as a porter in a 'mental hospital' to supplement his Scunthorpe wages
Is he related to Savile???
His older novels are good too. My personal favourites are High Rise, Concrete Island and Crash.
Ballard's shorter fiction is also wonderful. Here's a link to one of his best stories about someone who wilfully self-isolates.
On edit: if you haven't seen it, the movie of The Atrocity Exhibition is worth trying to get hold of. It's an unfilmable novel but there's a commentary on it by Ballard and the director that makes it worth the bother.
Interesting. Didn't know that had been filmed. Of course, it gives its name to one of our very own Joy Division's songs. As I suppose you know. (I say our because they were Mancs, and Ian Curtis was by all accounts a blue. Something that I'm absurdly proud of, if it's true).
What did you make of Cronenberg's Crash? I had my doubts. Wasn't too bad, but Ballard is probably unfilmable, by nature. Why? Because his imagination is already filmic! He runs the reels in your head. No need, at that point, to put anything on celluloid. He pre-empts it.