Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts

Wednesday, 31 December 2025

2025 My Year In Stuff

 


2025 was actually a pretty good year just for getting through some good media. Working at the Ulster Museum as I had been for the most of it meant having to up my game in terms of good nonfiction and broadening my knowledge of stuff in and out of my wheelhouse. We’d some cracking TV and quite a good year for movies and gigs. So, in no order:


Gaming: Basically the same as last year, still playing Streets of Rage 4 a fair few times a week, Balatro, Pool and Slay The Spire daily. The two new games I got into, Deltarune and the new Shinobi from the guys that did SOR4 I enjoyed up to a point but hit skill walls where there were certain bits that were too hard for me to get past and hence didn’t finish which is a bummer but meh, what can you do? 


Podcasts: Again, aside from the ones I’m still listening to from last year, The Only Podcast About Movies which is co presented by Matt of Extra History. It’s him and another guy who works in industry so you do get a reasonable level of analysis as well as their opinions and they cover a good range of stuff, their crack is generally decent too.


Theatre: I actually did make it out to the theatre a fair bit. I always say that I’m going to but rarely do, this year though I did genuinely get to see a good few shows. I saw Shame Show again, a locally made queer comedy with some very clever production. I saw Imelda May’s one woman show The Mother Of All Behans, based on the autobiography of Kathleen, mother of Brendan, Dominic and Brian. Ottille – another one woman musical about the Northern Irish blues singer Ottille Patterson. The Tunnel, a troubles era prison drama which was part of he Feilé was brilliant as well as was In The Name Of The Son, based on the life of Gerry Conlon and almost entirely focused on his life after prison, his struggles with mental health and slide into drug abuse. This was written by old family friend, former blanket man and scourge of Sinn Fein Ricky O’Rawe. I got to see pretty much all of these with my Dad so it was fun having a wee boys day out with him.  And for my birthday my sister took me down to Dublin to see The Book of Mormon with a couple of our mates.


Youtube: Yeah, aside from the stuff I’ve been keeping up with since last year there’s not been much to write home about. For whatever reason the algorithm seems to want to kill the long form video essay, a lot of the better of which have up sticks and moved to Nebula. Lindsay Ellis though has dropped a few bangers which have made their way back to her channel. The Beatles one is essential watching imo, as is her one on Miss Rachel and the flack she’s been getting from the Israel lobby. The video essay space has been very light on Palestine, only Bad Empanada and the Chapo Trap House podcast seem to have been consistently good on the issue. Sad to see.


TV: There’s been a bunch of live action series I have yet to get around to but really should. I’m part of the way through IT: Welcome To Derry and its been great so far. Pluribus and Silo both look fantastic but aren’t on services I sub to so it is going to take me a minute to get them sorted. Andor season 2, as much as it felt a bit rushed it was still fantastic, arguably the best thing in the whole franchise since the first couple of films. Something that came out at the start of the year and most people, including myself until there now, have probably forgotten was the disney MCU continuation of the Netflix Daredevil series with Charlie Cox and Vincent D'Onofrio as Kingpin, in this iteration essentially as a Donald Trump figure. It was actually great and a worthy addition to the earlier series. Another thing I did see was The Chair Company. Between that and the movie Friendship Tim Robinson has been on a roll this year and long may he continue. It’s a toss up between that and series 2 of Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal for best live action show of the year. And I have finally got around to watching all of the original Twin Peaks and I’m well into The Return. I can see why some people consider this the GOAT, I’m not sure I am one of them yet but I’ll reserve judgement until I finish the whole thing.


Anime / Western animated series: Have finally got around to Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood and tbh it was good but a bit too kiddyish for me. I have worked my way through a lot of obscure older anime from back in the day and damn, so much of it was absolute forgettable tripe. A couple that I did like were the old OVAs Ellcia a kind of high-seas fantasy and the urban horror fantasy Phantom Quest Corps. As far as newer stuff, we didn’t get anything new from the bit hitters of recent times, Hosoda, Shinkai etc. got a new Rose of Versailles film which was incredible, if you like shojo anyway, I caught the new Mononoke films (no relation to Princess Mononoke) which are as gorgeously animated as they are creepy and weird. Ponoc (or Continuity Studio Ghibli as I like to call them) give us The Imaginary, possibly their best project yet. Disney give us a whole slew of new Star Wars Visions, some direct continuations of the stories from season 1, all by some of the biggest anime studios currently going. Dandadan season 2 continues the standard set by the first ne, which is great to see since it fucking rocked. My only criticism is they didn’t keep the opening theme and the new one isn’t quite as good.  

The best thing though was 17-26, a compilation of stories by Tatsuki Fujimoto, creator of Chainsaw Man and Look Back. Honestly, this was incredible, unmissable stuff even if you’re not that into anime, every story is different and has some of the lushest animation and bravura story telling you’ll ever see. The other big stand out of the year in anime for me was Nukitashi: The Series. This was some of the most bizarre stuff I’ve ever seen in my entire life and really just reminds me of the good old days and everything I got into anime for in the first place. I’m not sure how exactly to describe it, it’s a sex comedy, borderline hentai but like a parody of the genre and not even that sexy, yet weirdly compelling. 

Western animation, we got The Mighty Nein, another show from Critical Role who were responsible for The Legend of Vox Machina, which we also got the last season of this year. Just solid fantasy hijinks. Creature Commandos, a suicide squad but with horror monsters set in the new DC Gunn-verse was a lot of fun, reminds me of the good old days of the 90s Vertigo era. Unknown Side-effects from the team that did Scavengers Reign was an absolute belter. The new Invincible season continues to be great too. 

My favourite series, perhaps unsurprisingly, was the second season of Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake. While it didn’t quite have the shock of the new of season 1 the animation quality, the cuts and turns of the plotting and the stream of consciousness visual storytelling were absolutely mind-blowing. A constant treat for old fans and new beginning to end, and good news is that we’re apparently getting more, a movie and 2 shows, a BMO centric one for babies and Side Quests, which is basically them going back to basics and doing stuff in the style of the early seasons, i.e. non arc plot single stories. We also got a short from Adult Swim called The Elephant made by a bunch of the OG adventure Time team, Penn Ward, Rebecca Sugar and Pat McHale which was almost three self contained minis where each handed the last panels off to the next with no context and let them riff on what they saw.

And yeah, I did see K-Pop Demon Hunters and it rules, not quite my bag but I can see why the kids all love it. Dogman might be the funniest thing I’ve seen all year. Predator Killer Of Killers was a lot of fun, one of the nest action films of the year animated or no.

For me though the best western animated feature was Memoir Of a Snail, the latest from ozzy stop motion animator Adam Elliott. A gothic, tragic, funny and sometimes heart-breaking story about two twins separated by the child services system and their subsequent lives. Its pretty dark in places but one you can definitely watch with older kids.


Movies: God damn, this has been a very good year for films. We’ve had a bumper crop of great horrors including Sinners, the best black Marxist vampire horror musical crime drama you’ll ever see, and not just because its likely the only film to blend those particular genres. Weapons, Together and 28 Years Later were all excellent. We got two great takes on the classics, passion projects by their respective directors with Robert Eggers Nosferatu and DelToro’s Frankenstein. I got to see 3 cracking new(ish) Irish horror film, All You Need is Death (came out 2023 but only got to see it on streaming this year) which was scored by one of the Lynch lads from Lankum, Fréwaka and An Taibshe two creepy atmospheric elevated folk horrors which are also fine additions to the cannon of Irish Language cinema. My favourite though was Bring Her Back, the second effort from the Philippou brothers. There were bits in that that had me squirming in my seat, and I’m hard as fucking nails and generally don’t get effected like that, so fair play to the lads.

Palestine features quite a lot in the cinema as one of the big things happening in the world at the moment. Even the new Superman seemed to be throwing digs (I personally think it was initially more about the Ukraine but as things unfolded during the production it leant into it). In fiction, To A Land Unknown was basically an update of Steinbecks Of Mice and Men but with Palestinian migrants in Greece. Palestine 36, a historic epic about the origins of the conflict was excellent, a few minor liberties with the historical accuracy aside. We had the documentary No Other Land which did a very good job of showing the general maniacal shittyness of the settlers and the IDF who defend and support them and the day to day bullshit Palestinians on the West Bank have to put up with. The Encampments, which was about the solidarity movement in the states and te sea change in public opinion that seems to be happening there based on the campus protests.

Other than that, The People’s Joker I really enjoyed but I feel like I need to rewatch, its basically the DC villains’ origin story as a trans narrative and its fun as hell. I’m Still Here, a Brazilian film, a true story about the family of a politician, a sitting senator who becomes one of The Disappeared by the fascist Junta in the 70s and their long quest for justice. The Return, an adaptation of the last sections of The Odyssey with Ralph Feins as Odysseus himself was classy good stuff. Pillion with Harry Melling and Alexander Skarsgård and Babygirl with Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson both did some excellent work bringing BDSM relationship dramas to the big screen with an element of realism conspicuously missing from tripe like 50 Shades of Grey. Cool OSTs on both of those two, particularly the latter. Bugonia is maybe my second least favourite Lanthimos film that I’ve seen but that’s still a pretty high bar and definitely a must see with a lot to say about contemporary society in the usual Lanthinmos bizarre style. Sorry, Baby will probably be remembered as the first of many masterpieces from its writer-director. As for: One Battle After Another, yeah believe the hype it IS that good.

Best new film, at least of the ones I’ve managed to catch so far was It Was Just An Accident. An Iranian films made by a dissident director who was banned from making films and had to shoot the whole thing in secret and smuggle it out of the country. And you can kind of see why, he does not pull any punches. A man who had been tortured by the regime for trades union activity thinks he has come across one of his torturers, by accident, chases him down and captures him with the intent of getting revenge. But, as the man swears innocence he begins to doubt himself and sets out on a journey to find others who were captured with him who might be able to positively identify him. A comedy of errors ensues that takes him all over Tehran with his drugged captive in a box in the back of his truck. It’s great vital film making, as much a black comedy as it is a thriller.

I also saw a fair few older films for the first time that I really enjoyed. The Blaxploitation classic Black Caesar is an absolute banger. Haneke’s Time Of The Wolf was bleak AF in the best possible way. The best film I saw all year might well be the French Resistance classic from the 1960s Army Of Shadows. Based on a novel by a resistance veteran it has a grittiness and a lack of romanticism about it that chimes with what I know about the real history of the time period.


Music: I’ve got to some cracking gigs this year, Managed to knock Laibach off the bucket list when I was over in London, and finally got to see clipping. in Paris (in The Moulin Rouge) touring their latest cyberpunk concept album, where I also saw Violent Magic Orchestra doing their new album in a tiny basement which was frankly the perfect setting. Nice bunch of lads too (and heck out their Boiler Room from Osaka, its unreal). I saw Max Cooper again in Dublin and at Bangface where he headlined the Sunday again and yeah, his music and his AV work are up there with the greats, your Aphex Twins and Autechres. Speaking of which Autechre played the Mandela hall and between them and the support who all played some absolutely sick wonky IDM and breakcore this was the best night of music in Belfast this decade, easy.

Other big gigs, Charlie XCX, fuck the haters I thought she was great. Kneecap and The Fontaines DC – great seeing Irish music repping hard on a world stage. The whole thing with Kneecap and Bob Vylan’s attempted cancelling and prosecution by the genocide propaganda complex was like the current generations big pop culture rebellion moment, Beatles “bigger than Jesus” or the Sex Pistols on Bill Grundy or the God Save the Queen banning, or the 80s metal Satanic Panic do not have shit on this in terms of the literal seriousness of the politics implicit in the whole goings on. 

One gig I did miss unfortunately was Billy Woods, as it was in Dublin and that was the night at the start of October where the weather was completely mental. Shame because along with clipping. Billy is probably the best in the game at the moment and Gollywog is some of the rawest horrorcore. Similarly, Brian Ennals and Infinity Knives new joint A City Drowned In God’s Black Tears is another masterpiece of raw alt-industrial hip-hop. FKA Twigs latest Eusexual, dark, clubby some tough edges to it and still kind of poppy.

It's not been a bad year for punk, I saw The Circle Jerks and The Descendants in the Limelight here back at the start of the year. I got listening to The Chats album which I only got hearing this year though it’s from last year. Lambrini Girls LP was a class bit of modern Riot Girl. 

Favourite LP of the year though was Kae Tempests latest where he’s essentially come out as trans-masc after identifying as non-binary for the last couple of years and that’s pretty much the theme of the album with Tempests usual fiery poetic delivery. If you can hunt down a bootleg of the Glasto set its really worth seeing.


Books: I read a fair bit of good genre fiction, Alan Moore’s The Great When being the most literary and the highlight. Joe Abercrombie’s The Devils, basically a Catholic Gothic Suicide Squad set in an alternative middle ages, was fun. I read the whole Empire of The Vampire trilogy, and cheesy, derivative and all as it is it was also very enjoyable. I did also read a fair bit of serious non-fiction. I read The Wretched Of The Earth and Said’s Orientalism as well as the whole of Jonathan Bardon’s History of Ulster. I read Dead As Doornails, Anthony Cronin’s readable and insightful memoir of his time in mid 20th century bohemian Dublin, which in turn inspired me to read Pat Kavanagh’s The Great Hunger and Other Poems. 


Finn Dwyer of The Irish History Podcast’s pop-history book A Lethal Legacy was another absolute delight. It tells the story of modern Ireland through a series of True Crime Podcast-esque murder stories and is as recommendable to the layman as anyone in academia. Hotel Lux: An Intimate History of Communism's Forgotten Radicals by Maurice J. Casey I picked up after hearing him on Dwyer’s podcast talking about the book and again, its in the sweet spot between pop-history and the serious stuff for academics. It takes in feminism, the Russian revolution, Trotskyism Vs Stalinism, queer history too. And it’s a good read to boot, the author puts a lot of himself and his journey as a researcher into the text, much more so than one usually gets. 

Similarly, Kincora: Britain's Shame - Mountbatten, MI5, the Belfast Boys’ Home Sex Abuse Scandal and the British Cover Up by Chris Moore has a lot of Moore’s own story of his decades long involvement with the case and is, I personally think, essential reading for anyone with the slightest interest in the conflict here. Beyond conspiracy theory, this is conspiracy fact and it is harrowing.

Much more fun was the collected EC Ray Bradbury stories published and collected by Fantagraphics. This is pre code when comics production was basically the wild west and they would occasionally cut corners by ripping off stories from the more respectable sci-fi magazines assuming nobody would notice. Bradbury though actually did read EC horror comics and was a little surprised to come across his own work. Instead of getting mad and getting the lawyers involved he just wrote them and said he actually liked what they did with it and maybe in future they could cut a deal and he’d let them do his work with his official endorsement and name on the cover if they credited him and sent him a reasonable remuneration, which they did and the stories are an absolute joy, not surprising considering that they’d the likes of Wally Wood, Joe Orlando, Jack Davis and so on on art duties. 


So that was 2025, or at least the highlights. There was a bunch of stuff I didn’t quite gel with or like over much. Or just thought was fine. There’s still a bunch of stuff I’ve not got around to that might well have made this post if I’d got to it. 2026 is shaping up to be a good one too and no doubt if I do another one of these at the end of next year you’ll be hearing all about Arco, Hamnet, Hades 2 or The Voice of Hind Rajab from me. I really hope we keep up the good run of horror films and The Bone Temple lives up to the last one. I’m also hoping to get a lot more stuff written for this blog. So, here’s to another new year, hope 2026 brings us happier times because it is grim out there and that doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon.

Sunday, 29 June 2025

Hunting Captain Nairac


 

I was at the Queens Film Theatre this afternoon for the last day of the Docs Ireland festival. The showing was "Hunting Captain Nairac" a documentary about the search for the human remains of people disappeared by republican forces during the troubles, in this instance an army intelligence officer who famously walked into a bar in South Armagh full of 200 people and was never seen again. It was an interesting and well made documentary it answered a lot of questions and debunked some old myths but it did leave me with a few questions. 


1. It did a lot to humanise Nairac and present his complexities as a person. Fair enough I suppose but I feel like they might be overegging things a little. It presents his Catholicism and seemingly genuine hibernophillia as being in contradiction with his role as an army intelligence officer. That is very simply not the case as anyone who is familiar with British colonial practice can tell you, that just made him better at his job, the British founded the SOAS to train their cadre in the complexities of the cultures they were sending them out to imperialise.


2. Fair play for trying to dispel 2 big myths you'd hear about Niarac, that his body was "fed to the pigs" as my aul Uncle Danny (RIP) used to say (and that was way before Snatch put that particular method of body disposal into the public consciousness). And that the rumours of his involvement with The Miami Showband massacre (which I also heard and believed once) was probably flack generated by the PIRAs counter intelligence machine. That said the extent and nature of his actual activities isn't really touched on. Troublingly, what he was literally said to be doing in the bar that night was to "Further a relationship" with the sister of an IRA activist. I'm sorry but to me that sounds like the very common practice in intelligence circles of undercovers getting in with a particular situation through a sexual relationship, which is rightly considered to be a form of SA as you can't meaningfully consent to sex with someone who is misrepresenting themselves at that level. That's an implication that seems rightly obvious to anyone familiar with these issues. Not that if it was the case that it justifies what happened to him, corpse-napping is a horrible thing to happen and its no more cool when the 'Ra were doing it than when the  CIA trained secret police were doing it across Latin America in the 70s and 80s or when Israel do it today, it just seems odd that that's put out there and handwaved very quickly. 


My take away from it was that it seemed oddly in step with the Werner Herzog documentary Grizzly Man that was also featured at the Docs Ireland festival the night before (with live commentary by the editor!) about another eccentric wee man with terminal Main Character syndrome who intentionally put himself in the line of danger doing something he was passionate about and paid the ultimate price for it.

I do sincerely hope that his body is found and returned to his people. Its good that for the future generations here to heal properly we need a full reckoning with the past. I just don't want that to come at the cost of downplaying the seriousness of any aspect of the conflict in the name of "balance".

Thursday, 25 April 2024

Monkey Man (Dev Patel, 2024) A Review

Dev Patel's Monkey Man: political commentary meets bone-crunching action -  New Statesman
Of all the various genres of contemporary popular culture the superhero origin story feels like the most played out, with the action-revenge thriller not far behind it. So it seems odd that last weeks release Monkey Man, which is decidedly situated in both and playing the tropes of each fairly straight, might be one of the freshest and most exciting releases of the year.

The film is a passion project from the British-South East Asian actor Dev Patel and marks his directorial debut. Some readers may remember him from his start on the TV series Skins as part of the first gen, or from later more prominent roles in Slumdog Millionaire, C.H.A.P.P.I.E. and the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel series, or my favourite, David Lowery’s Art-House fantasy adaption of The Green Knight. He has definitely done some good work over the years and worked with some of the most interesting directors working at the moment. However as a martial artist since childhood, long before he was interested in acting and fan of action cinema he’d always wanted to be in one of those films, preferably as the lead. Problem was though that the film industry doesn’t tend to see him in that sort of role, and his only way to be in that sort of film would be as “the guy who hacks the mainframe or the comedy side-kick”, unless he made the film himself, which is what Monkey Man is.
 
As much inspired by the classic Hong Kong Kung Fu films, post 2000s South Korean revenge thrillers and The Raid series moreso than anything from the various ‘x’-ywoods of the Indian sub-continent, the film nonetheless wears its status as a product of Indian culture on its sleeve. The titular Monkey is based off of Patel hearing the stories from the Ramayana from his Indian grandfather, specifically that of Hanuman, the Monkey King who assists Rama over the course of the epic, mostly by fighting various gods, mortals and demons with his magic club and martial arts abilities (and yes, if that sounds familiar, this is also widely thought by scholars to be a major inspiration for Sun Wukong, the King Monkey from the Chinese literary classic Journey to the West). 
 
As well as the references to Hindu mythology, authentic Hindi dialogue in some places, the Indian trad elements in the score and OST, and the general aesthetic which does a brilliant job of depicting the modern Indian city as a hellish neon-lit cyberpunk dystopia, it also shows its cultural specificity in the social commentary and messaging. It seems that conscious of this being his first directorial feature and possibly his only, Dev Patel threw every single thing he had at the screen and made sure he said everything he could conceivably want to say, and the top of that list was to stick two middle fingers up at the BJP.

The story of the film concerns a nameless protagonist who infiltrates an exclusive club for the ruling class of a fictional Indian city in order to enact revenge on the corrupt head of Police responsible for the destruction of his village when he was a child. Along the way he tries and initially, fails, succeeding after finding community with other among oppressed to fight not just for his own personal vengeance but for all those dispossessed by the ruling Hinduja elite. The club not-for-nothing is called Kings (the icon styled after a European coronet) in a fairly obvious nod to the Raj and India’s postcolonial status and is full of portraits of the co-opted rulers through which the British exercised control over India. It is full of not just the criminal elites and dirty cops, civil servants and politicians but religious figures, one in particular Baba Shakti who over the course of the film becomes emblematic of how the corruption of the Hindu religious traditions by capital plays into everything.

The story behind the scenes seems to have been as interesting as anything we see in the film itself. The shoot took place during the pandemic and was fraught with practical difficulties and setbacks, including Patel injuring himself several times and running out of money in the middle of production. Even after it was completed getting distribution was a whole other saga. Initially meant to be a Netflix release, they seem to have not reckoned with the political themes and shelved it fearing alienating one of their key markets for distribution. It was eventually picked up thanks to Jordan Peele, who one imagines must have seen an affinity between his own work which explores contemporary political and social issues through a populist genre while also being a solid example of that genre on the black (in both senses of the word) horror comedies Get Out, Us and Nope. Both those things work in its favour, the scrappiness of the production is appropriate for a hard as nails action thriller, that getting a cinematic release and not going straight to streaming is very much appropriate to a movie such in incredible visual sensibility. There is an absolutely gorgeous psychedelic sequence right at the heart of the film that would thoroughly satisfy any fan of Jodorowsky, Russell, Noe or Panos Cosmatos that for my money, as one myself, is worth the door tax on its own.
 
So, if you like action films, prefer them with good politics and you can handle a bit of the old ultra-violence (the 18 cert is exclusively for that, some of which to be fair borders on body-horror) this could well be among your more enjoyable cinematic experiences of the year.


Tuesday, 24 April 2018

Appendix 2: Literature as a consumer product in 1890s Britain and Gissing’s New Grub Street.

This is one of two term papers written as practice and a way of getting my thoughts together in preperation for my masters thesis which I have published on this blog here. It has been e put up here for the sake of completion. The other one has been posted here.



In Britain in the 1880s and 90s there was a perceptible shift in the production and distribution of literature.  The reading public, who had been increasing incrementally over the previous two centuries, suddenly expanded as the business of writing and selling books, magazines and other forms of literary culture was revolutionised.  It is in this context that George Gissing wrote New Grub Street, the novel that would make his name and come to be regarded as his finest.  The Novel takes as its subject the world of writers around 8-10 years before it was written.  The Gissing specialist John Goode, referring to Gissing’s diaries, puts the novel as having fermented over the course of 1890 before finally being written in the late autumn and early winter of that year[1].  The novel begins in autumn 1882[2] with the main plot covering the next 2-3 years up to July 1885, ending with a short denouement set 12 months after[3].  In essence Gissing is chronicling the formation of the productive relations that he was working under in 1890 by excavating their origins in the novel format[4].  The main theme of the book is Writing in the context of the changing mode of production in literature, especially the effect of this on the work that writers do and the daily realities that writers are faced with.  When one takes into consideration that Gissing himself lived through this period on the bottom wrung of the publishing industry as an impoverished writer, New Grub Street appears not so much as fiction but also as auto-biography, cum reportage as well as advancing a particular aesthetic thesis.  As such, it provides a unique insight for historians of the period into the experience of those relations of production and consumption by writers and journalists and it provides insights into the operation of culture within Late-Victorian capitalism.

In Britain in the 1880s and 90s, this printed culture of novels, periodicals and magazines was the mass media, occupying the same place that television does today.  Significantly, this was the time in British history when the novel as a means of cultural transmission was at its zenith, however its influence was being challenged by a factors emerging from a new range of conditions of production and consumption.

Although Gissing did not express the process in economic terms in his fiction, what he is really describing is the commodification of writing and the intrusion into the writers’ literary production of the market, reducing the writer to a mere artisan.  This change is encapsulated in the first pages of New Grub Street by the bold statement that “Literature nowadays is a trade[6]”.

The plot of the novel reflects this in its structure, which,

 “is based on a common convention in Victorian fiction, which is to have two independent stories which in narrative terms are largely independent of each other but which echo and contrast”[7].

The precise nature of what is echoed and contrasted in the novel is the lives of two writers, their work, their relations with women, their attitude to each other and, by extension, their place in the edifice of literary production. This also leads concomitantly to their consideration of literary consumption.  Specifically, this is the contrast summed up at the start of the novel by Jasper Milvain, then protagonist of one of the story threads, in reference to his friend Edward Reardon, the protagonist of the other;

“The thing you must understand about a man like Reardon and a man like me is that he is the old type of unpractical artist, I am the literary man of 1882.”[8]

Milvain then goes on to conceptualise the difference in their relations to the market;

“He won’t make concessions, or rather, he can’t make them; he can’t supply the market…your successful man of letters is your skillful tradesman.  He thinks first and foremost of the markets; when one kind of good begins to go off slackly, he is ready with something new and appetising”[9]. 

In the course of the novel this is just what Milvain goes on to do by becoming a Journalist, a vulgar populist writer of ephemera, in contrast to the scrupulousness of Reardon’s devotion to his muse.

The novel also goes into the wider literary scene through the secondary characters, each of which are involved in the business of writing in some way.  These include Milvain’s sisters, who he introduces to the trade, Biffen, a writer, Whelpdale, a failed writer who becomes a literary agent, Alfred Yule, a man of letters and failed periodical editor and his daughter Marian, assistant to her father and up-coming woman of letters in her own right.  Each of these characters adds another facet to the picture of the literary world that Gissing is trying to paint in the novel.  By concentrating on this circle of friends and acquaintances and their relationships the author brings into sharp focus the personal cost of the holistic intrusion of market forces onto the creative intellect, i.e. the way it effects not only the work of writers but their relationships, personalities, health and behavior.

Implicit in Gissing’s argument is a formulation we may term as a “Moral-economy of literary production” that was common in the Fin de Siecle[10].  This is the notion that artistic production should exist free of any concerns except whatever artistic concerns inspire the creator.  Mainly this refers to the idea that great art requires freedom from commercial concerns and stems from the perennial dynamic tension between the personal and social nature of artistic production, favoring of course the personal to the detriment of the social location within the capitalist mode of production.  Although this, “Moral Economy”, was not successful or effective in the way the social phenomenon described by E.P. Thompson was[11], we can nonetheless see a constant negotiation of the commercial nature of their work by artists and writers.

Recent scholarship has convincingly suggested that the reason why Gissing, and others of his generation, favoured the personal factor in this creative dialectic as a reaction against an intrusive and disconcerting nature of the social factor.  For writers in late Victorian England this expressed itself in the form of the rapidly changing productive relations in literature in the late 19th century[12].  This was largely distributor led and favored certain forms and subjects over others[13] married to an increasing sophistication of publishing practice with its perennial need to maximise profits.  Hence we can see that the balance of power in this relation between production and consumption favored the tastes of the distributors, not the producer.

Exemplifying the writers’ Moral economy in the Novel are the characters of the two novelists, Edwin Reardon and Harold Biffen.  Both are true artists who can’t adopt themselves to the market.  The difference between them is that Reardon has a family to support which forces him to try fruitlessly, to adapt to the market. Which in turn leads to the ruination of his physical and mental health and family, whereas Biffen is unencumbered, with only himself to look after, and lives at the edge of poverty but without compromising his art. 

Biffen is the purest example of the literary producer in the novel.  He writes his fiction without reference to the market either in terms of subject, form, content or potential audience.  This is because the production of literature is everything to him, the end in itself.  Whether or not his efforts are ever re-numerated are incidental. In a conversation with Reardon he claims not to expect his novel to even be published.[14] None the less he pushes himself to the point of starvation and eventually charges into a burning building to rescue the only copy of his manuscript from the flames[15].

Reardon’s position is more complex. The struggle between Reardon and the hated market constitutes the drama in this thread of the novel.  Before achieving a degree of literary fame he had lived much as Biffen, but sustained by a job as a clerk.  His day job and lack of familial commitments mean he is unencumbered by commercial pressures and so is able to work as he likes.  By the beginning of the action in the novel his writing has brought him with success the responsibilities of a husband and father.  If Biffen represents the ideal of the writer, Reardon represents something like the reality as in order to maintain his family he is compelled not just to write but to write something sellable.  Because the money it brings in is a necessity he has to continually produce in order to survive, even if it means compromising on the quality of the work itself.  In Gissing’s depictions of Reardon’s struggles it is clear that being able to create depends on a number of psychological factors an important one being that forcing yourself to write is destructive of what makes one capable of it in the first place.

Jasper Milvain is the antithesis of Reardon and Biffen.  He engages with the market as a professional.  He writes only what he can sell.  Although, as is implied in the novel, he is no less talented or capable of creating great works of art than Biffen or Reardon, he instead engages with the market by cynically pandering to vulgar tastes and fashions.  Instead of pushing the medium and creating something unique or original, which is at least the intention of Biffen, he only seeks to reproduce that which is commercially reliable.  In advising his sisters as to how to go about writing as a profession, he makes this abundantly clear, telling them:

“There is a tremendous sale for religious stories, why not pitch one together?…I tell you writing is a business.  Get together half-a-dozen fair specimens of the Sunday school prize; study them; discover the essential points of such composition; hit upon new attractions; then go to work methodically, so many pages a day.”[16]

One interesting thing to note in this context is the ways in which the writer is conceptualised as a tradesman or a businessman.  Some commentators seem to suggest that because of the emergence of writers unions and the mechanisation of the industry that writers were becoming proletarianised[17].  Actually the position of the writer appears closer to a petty bourgeoisie, i.e. those who labour but own their own means of production.  In a sense, if we take Bourdieu’s description of creativity as a natural resource[18], they are comparable to small farmers.  Although Gissing doesn’t employ such metaphors himself, the use of agricultural metaphors is not uncommon in describing the creative process.

The work cycle of Reardon as laid out in the novel does have a similarity to that of a small farmer.  That is to say, labouring over a novel for an expected sale at the end of the period of cultivation.  For example, borrowing towards the end of that period when the money from the last harvesting is becoming scarce on the expectation of selling the product is something that characterised the micro economics of small holding peasants in pre-famine rural Ireland[19], and according to Gissing, the Reardon household towards the end of one of Readon’s novels.  Similarly, a bad (i.e. unpublishable) novel was disastrous in the same way that as a bad harvest was disastrous for the small producer.

The mechanical way in which Milvain works and manages his labour time is among the aforementioned factors which has led Bowlby amongst others to wrongly assert that writing was proletarianised. Actually since its inception the term, “Petty Bourgeoisie”, has been taken to infer proletarian forms of labour, the distinction between the two mainly being the relation to the means of production and distribution[20].  Hence, the particular mode of literary production, as depicted in the novel, was both alienating and mechanistic and self regulated.  The breakdown of Jasper’s working day[21] is very precise, like a manager’s log, with the total monetary value of the time worked out to within a couple of guineas.

So too for Marian Yule, who at one point fantasises about a literary machine; “some automaton to supply the place of creatures such as herself, to turn out books and articles”[22].  The mechanised process of literary production is described in the same terms as “only to throw in a given number of old books, and have them reduced, blended, modernised into a single new book”[23].  Jasper describes his method of working up new articles thus;

“From five to half past I read four news papers and two magazines, and from half past to quarter to six I jotted down several ideas that had come to me while reading”.[24]

Between these two sections from the text we can observe something at the heart of Gissing’s conceptualisation of this mode of consumption, i.e. that where this writing comes from isn’t the heart of the writer or their observation of real life, which would give it some sort of higher relevance, but from other writing alone.  This isn’t creation, the act of a creative mind, but more akin to recycling, the shuffling around of pre-existing writing that has relevance only to and of itself.  While the product may be entertaining or well written, it doesn’t further human culture.  This is what Milvain means when he refers to his day’s work as having literary value, “equal to the contents of a mouldy nut”[25].

This explosion in the consumption and production of literature that constituted the crisis, as Gissing saw it, was facilitated by a number of factors.  Firstly there were technological advances in the mechanisation of printing as well as more efficient paper making processes[26].  Also, the repeal of Stamp Tax in 1855 and Paper Duty in 1860 had removed one non-material barrier to the mass production of paper[27] and encouraged a great expansion of the News Paper industry that had also been gathering pace incrementally over the preceding centuries.

The main factor however, as perceived at the time, was the education acts of the 1870-90s, which gradually introduced universal primary education.  Literacy had been increasing incrementally over the preceding centuries[28], but the acts expanded the reading public to an extent unheard of, creating for the first time a literate reading public[29]. 

The effect that this Cultural Revolution and the sort of reading it engendered had on those already literate classes was the unleashing of a storm of reactionary ire and condescension.  In the organs of the literary establishment the “disease” of “unproductive reading” by this upstart literate mass reading public was lamented and tied into contemporary discourses on degeneration[30], and critics of the time were horrified at the national out pouring of grief at the death of the revered and popular poet Tennyson[31].  This indeed could be said to be the period that saw, to paraphrase Thompson, The Making of the English Literary Intelligentsia[32].

At the time when Gissing was writing New Grub Street the production and distribution of novels in Britain was mired in an archaic system of private lending libraries, the most important of which being Mudies, which has been described as having a “grip on the fiction industry”[33].  Unlike America and France, where the advances in printing had meant the sale of literature directly to consumers, in Britain the novels were mainly produced as three volumes, so called, “Three Deckers”.  These were mainly sold to circulating libraries which the would-be consumer of literature had to subscribe to to use[34].  For the author this meant that the crucial notion of what was saleable, or permissible to print, rested in the hands of the small group of owners of these lending libraries and not the reading public at large.  Mudies in particular was notorious for its conservatism[35].  This is also one of the main reasons why British literature appears stuffy and repressed with regards to its content and themes, especially in comparison with French literature of the same period.

It also created the precarious position of the author’s finances, i.e. the way the novelist could only really expect re-numeration for their labour at the point of sale to his publisher because then, as now, sales generate royalties, not the rental of an already sold item.  It would also seem that when the reading public purchased books in the 1880s-early 1890s, they were generally bought second hand, as is most of Reardon’s personal library[36].

This particular system of distribution would eventually be swept away, but not until after New Grub Street was published, although we can see the beginnings of this process in Gissings depiction of the literary world of the 1880s.  The way they are depicted in the novel is interestingly catastrophic.  Just as In TheYear Of The Jubilee prefigures the Baudrillardian critique of consumerism[37], the depiction of the mass culture prefigures the 20th century debates around the degradation of society and the inner life of the individual[38].  He also harks back to Matthew Arnold’s notion of culture as an expression of all that’s pure and good in society, extending the arguments of Culture and Anarchy into the decades after Arnold’s death.  Arnolds contribution to what I have referred earlier as a “Moral Economy” of literary production was a mid 19th century positivism with regards to perfection and the perfectibility of society through Culture.  Arnold is a pervasive but unacknowledged presence in the novel.  Reardon in particular can be described as having distinctly Arnoldian tendencies is his view of art and his taste in Hellenic culture and civilization, something undoubtedly shared by his creator[39].

Inherent in this idea is a particularly elitist notion of what constituted good literature. Culture and Anarchy is actually where the English usage of the word ‘Philistine’ is used in the pejorative sense of someone who is not just un-enlightened, but actually oppositional towards the Arts.  In New Grub Street Philistineism is most directly associated with the manufacturing end of book publishing, specifically in the character of John Yule who we meet in the second chapter[40]. The arguments he articulates in his exchange with Milvain and his brother Alfred are the direct opposite of Arnold’s in Culture and Anarchy.  Yule, has little appreciation of the literature he publishes (reading little besides papers[41]), little sympathy with the authors (including his nieces, husband, Edwin Reardon, who he says he’d pay not to write[42]) and would rather people spent their leisure time on the outdoors.  He even goes so far as to wish to see “the business of literature abolished”[43].  That his trade is the manufacture of paper is indicative of Gissing’s more general association of mass production with philistinism.  This is evident in the exchange between Milvain and John Yule when Milvain remarks about paper that;

“‘if that article (i.e. paper) were not so cheap and so abundant, people wouldn’t have so much temptation to scribble’”[44]

It is because of this dilution of the Arnoldian ideal of the improving mission of writing by the mass education and mass culture - which was driven, as Gissing clearly saw it by the philistine owners of the means of book production - that his reaction to the very forces which would remove the system of book production that he struggled under would be so completely pessimistic[45].

To begin with a new generation of publishers was arising to challenge the established publishing houses and orthodox publishing methods.  This was to provide a new space for innovations in the production and distribution of literature, as Jonathan Rose points out, in late Victorian Britian, “often the most innovative authors are taken on by the most aggressive entrepreneurs, those who are ready to adapt to and exploit a changing literary marketplace[46].  In New Grub Street this particular form of Victorian capitalism is embodied in Jedwood, a publisher who has only recently come into the business after a marriage to a rich woman[47] has begun to take risks and overturn some of the publishing practices that emerged under the established houses.  Jedwood is very much the new type;

“He talked much of ‘The New Era’, foresaw revolutions in publishing and book selling, tried every week a score of untried ventures that should appeal to the democratic generation just maturing”[48].

Those revolutions weren’t complete at the time of publication, New Grub Street itself was a Three Decker that was first sold to the lending libraries, they would be completed by the middle years of the decade[49], and would have been noticeably well under way to a professional novelist like Gissing.  And yet in the novel this development, and all the others that would change the literature industry, objectively for the better, is treated with horror or disdain.  The description of Jedwood is hardly flattering, the idea that he’s married into money, rather than having had the decency to be born to it, carries the implication of gold-digging.

Another factor that had revolutionised the consumption of literature was the mass transit system.  Again Gissing seems to regard this as a negative development.  One of the main themes of New Grub Street is the rise of the relative importance of the magazine in relation to the novel and the related process of degeneration of the novel itself[50] because of these conditions.  The rail networks provided short intervals of time when the urban commuter could snatch a little reading time.  It was soon recognised that the commuter was an important market for publishers, as near to a captive audience as one could wish for, hence bookshops and stalls were opened in railway stations (this is how the high street chain WH Smiths began[51]).  Magazines full of short articles that would only take the length of a train journey to read were produced, with great success - Newne’s Tit-Bits in particular, which;

“From its inception…was denounced as the bastard offspring of the commodification of literature:… exploiting readers with limited literacy and short attention spans.”[52]

The arguments around this development[53] are dramatised by Gissing in a three-way exchange between Jasper Milvain, his sister Dora and Whelpdale.  Whelpdale proposes a plan for a new magazine that a Victorian audience would have understood as a none-too subtle proxy of Tit-Bits[54]. The magazine and it’s audience are described in terms which explicitly links its format to educational standards and a debased type of reading related to the use of public transport;

“I would have the paper address itself to the quarter educated…the great new generation that is being turned out by the Board Schools, the young men and women who can just read but are incapable of sustained attention.  People of this kind want something to sustain them on trains and on Buses and ‘trams...Everything must be short, two inches at the utmost; their attention can’t sustain itself beyond two inches.”[55]

Jasper approves of the project, calling it half-ironically, “one of the most notable projects of modern times”[56].  Dora on the other hand objects to the project on the grounds that, “Surely these poor silly people oughtn’t to be encouraged in their weakness”[57], and is only placated by the notion that even reading such fare as Chit-Chat on the train is better than reading nothing, “So long as they only read the paper at such times”[58].

The diversification in literature is another part of the process that would end the Three Decker novel system, and like magazines and the new publishing houses, would be subtly railed against by Gissing in New Grub Street.  One of the most notable and historically significant parts of this process, was the emergence of a degree of gendering in the market.  This was essentially the beginning of an identity consumerism where instead of trying to address the whole reading public the publishers found it more profitable to create books for sale to a specific niche.

This practice was directly contradictory to Arnold’s vision of a Culture that “seeks to do away with classes”[59] to create a singular culture for everyone to partake in, which in practice meant a monolithic cannon.  Gissing seems to have taken a particular exception to this in the form it took when targeting an emerging generation of newly literate women as a particular niche market.  This is certainly the most common form of niche marketing that we encounter in the novel.  When Milvain first suggests his sisters take up writing to supplement their income, it is this sort of gender-specific writing that he has in mind[60].  There is of course an undertone of misogyny to this as well.  As Carey has observed, Gissing found the new generation of women that had benefited from the education acts contemptible and pretentious[61].  Although this strain of Gissing’s isn’t so evident in New Grub Street, the refrain that semi-educated women, who are incapable of being more than that are imperiling the health and well being of the nation is evident in his other novels[62].  That said however, in the novel professional writing is presented as differently for women, who are not allocated the same status as the male writers.  Milvain’s sisters do the sort of hack writing described above, but for a specifically female audience.  Marian’s literary endeavors are all in the service of her father and are almost a form of parental abuse that exploits the subject and is detrimental to her femininity.

One conclusion that we can draw from the novel is that the products of print culture, novels, magazines and newspapers[63] have a dual existence as commodities and as cultural artifacts.  These two lives that books have are almost, but not entirely independent of one another.  Pierre Bourdieu has given us the useful notion of a Field of Cultural Production, a sort of idea-space for the functioning of the creative mind that is framed within the productive relations of its time but not dictated by them.  We might say that the Writer’s Moral Economy, as exemplified in the novel by Reardon and Biffen, is the mentality of the field of cultural production.  Milvain’s perspective is also within the field of cultural production but it is more of the productive relations that frame it than the field itself.  These two positions representing a continuum of thought and behavior, in the field channeling different currents to different ends.

The way in which the field of cultural production expresses itself in material reality is in the production of a symbolic configuration on a material form.  By which I mean that at its most basic level, the act of filling the pages of a book with words and pictures is commodity fetishism on a grand scale, quite literally imbuing an object with a symbolic meaning beyond its materiality.  However this isn’t quite the same thing, as it is from the symbolic content of a printed commodity that its use-value is derived.

However the commodity fetishism of printed culture expresses itself in other ways.  Advertising and the reputation of the author are also important factors, ones that Gissing spends some time over.  For example, near the beginning of the novel, Milvain spells out the importance of having money and a presence in society, to getting published[64].  Also, the importance of favorable reviews in imbuing a book with a saleable value is another recurring concern that comes up at several points in the novel.  At one of these points Milvain observes that in the, “struggle for existence among books[65]”, good reviews were necessary for a novel’s success as a saleable commodity.

The physical form of the novel, the binding, typography and illustration etc. is no less important to the novel as a consumer item.  Although the success of a cultural commodity might not be predicated on this “Packaging”, Maura Ives work on the production of the novels of George Meredith have shown how the physical presentation of novel acts to bolster its appeal[66].  For example in the typeface, the size of the print etc. recreates the identity of the author and itself acts as a form of advertising[67] and that the watermark and indenting the first page with the author’s initials acts as a physical connection between the author and consumer[68].

Finally, what New Grub Street demonstrates human experience of the changing dialectic relation between the consumption and production of literature in the 1880s and 90s.  Although Gissing has a particularly singular vision of this world, one of his skills as an author is to present an argument or debate from both sides and to make the two as real as to have an equal emotional truth.  Although there are some exceptions to this, when Gissing sets up an opposition he can present both sides so as to make them credible and articulate.  For as much as Milvain is the authors wry mouthpeice for everything he saw wrong with modern literature, Jasper Milvain still has a real emotional life and our sympathies.  Although we know from biographical information which side of the fence he was on, a purely textual reading could put Reardon and Milvain on a par, or even put Milvain as the most favoured out of the two, since he both survives the novel and gets the girl in the end.  It is for this reason that the book was, and continues to be, a useful indication of the interior life of writers living in the new Grub Street of Britains Fin-de Seicle.


 Bibliography

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                - John Goode, ‘Introduction’ ppvii-xxi

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[1] J. Goode, Introduction p.ix
[2] G. Gissing New Grub Street p6, 8
[3]  Ibid., p511
[4] R. Bowlby, Just Looking: Consumer Culture in Gissing, Dreiser and Zola p.102
[5] Cit.
[6] G. Gissing, p.8
[7] J. Goode, George Gissing: Ideology and Fiction p.131
[8] G. Gissing, ibid. p.8
[9] Ibid, pp8-9
[10] See for example Howell and Colderidge’s comments, quoted in R, Bowlby, p 92, and also the comment in the article from the Scots Observer that, “Literature exists of itself and for itself”, quoted in P. D. Macdonald p.9
[11] E.P. Thompson, The Moral Economy and the English Crowd
[12] eg. A. Poole, Gissing In Context p.119
[13] See for instance Gosse’s comments on the Novel.
[14] Gissing, p.370
[15] ibid., pp.428-433
[16] ibid. p13
[17] E.g. R. Bowlby p.90
[18] P. Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production p.76
[19] C. O’Grada, The Great Irish Famine, pp.32-3
[20] See for instance in K. Marx, Theories of Surplus Value Part 1 p395-6
[21] G. Gissing, p.181
[22] ibid., p107
[23] ibid., p107
[24] ibid., p181
[25] ibid., p181
[26] R. Williams, p.190
[27] Ibid. p.217
[28] ibid, pp.177-189
[29] J. Carey, The Intellectuals and The Masses p5
[30] See. K. Mays, ‘The Disease of Reading and Victorian Periodicals’ in Jordan, J.O. and Patten, R.L. (eds.) Literature in the Market Place: Nineteenth-century British Publishing and Reading Practices
[31] McDonald, P.D. British Literary Culture and Publishing Practice 1880-1914 pp.3-5
[32] Kelly Mays points out that in this period and in relation to these discourses the idea of “Study” as opposed to “Reading” is seriously formulated (p. 181), and amateur learning clubs give way to the professionalisation of intellectual labour through an institutional structure that is effectively the beginnings of the British University system and the epistemological authority of academic citation (pp.183-4).
[33] J. Rose, ‘Was Capitalism Good For Victorian Literature?’ p.496
[34] R. Bowlby, pp85-6
[35] J. Goode, Introduction p.xiv
[36] G. Gissing, p.208
[37] i.e. the thwarted desire of the middle class urban consumer, J. Goode, George Gissing: Ideology and Fiction.
[38] See for example T.W. Adorno’s theories on mass culture, or his fellow Frankfurt School associate Herbert Marcuse.
[39] We know that the sections of Reardon’s travels to Europe and recollections of Greece were semi-autobiographical.
[40] G. Gissing, pp.15-27
[41] ibid., p.20
[42] ibid. p.25
[43] ibid. p.23
[44] ibid. p.23
[45] Interestingly, this was actually at odds with what Arnold actually said in Culture and Anarchy, whose ethos was more in line with an egaliterian one-nation Toryism, not dissimmilar to his literary contemporary Mrs Gaskell.
[46] J. Rose, ‘Was Capitalism Good For Victorian Literature?’ p497
[47] G. Gissing, p164
[48] ibid. p.167
[49] J. Rose, ‘Was Capitalism Good For Victorian Literature?’ p490
[50] J. Carey, pp107-8
[51] R. Williams, p190
[52] J. Rose, ‘Was Capitalism Good For Victorian Literature?’
[53] See for example the aforementioned Scots Observer article quoted in P.D. Macdonald (p.) for an example contemporaneous with New Grub Street.
[54] When describing the contents, the word “Bits” is used by Whelpdale six times in the same sentence to hammer the point home. Gissing, p.460
[55] ibid. p.460
[56] ibid. p.460
[57] ibid. p.460
[58] ibid. p.461
[59] M. Arnold, Culture and Anarchy (preface)
[60] G. Gissing, p.35
[61] J. Carey, p.100
[62] Ibid. pp.97-103
[63] And we might perhaps extrapolate this out to include and mass-produced cultural artifact.
[64] G. Gissing, pp.28-30
[65] Ibid. p.456
[66] L. Ives ‘A Bibliographical Approach to Victorian Publishing’ p.275-288
[67] Ibid., p.278
[68] ibid., p.274