Link of the day

Thats right, I am going to try and do this daily (and adjust the day settings if I forget). In a borderline genius piece of wordplay- I have a picture of Link.

Stephen Hawking, well known for being a bit stupid now reckons we can time travel.
Sounds neat, but it being in the Daily Mail makes me suspicious. The 'go back and shoot the inventor of time travel' does pose an interesting question though.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-1269288/STEPHEN-HAWKING-How-build-time-machine.html

JG Ballard- Miracles of Life

I finished this last night, JG Ballard's autobiography. Ballard died about a year ago, and I've been meaning to read this since then, after reading the Steig Larsson books, something slower paced was in order.
I read Empire of the Sun a while ago, and that seemed like an autobiography, so I expect I'd be repeating stuff I already knew. However it turns out Empire wasn't totally fact, the main differing point being Ballards parents were in Shanghai concentration camp with him (they went missing in Empire). This is by far the most interesting part of the book, and he spends quite a few chapters going over his early life in Shanghai before and during the Japanese invasion, where everything went to pot, and mass starvation reigned and scores of people lied dead in the streets and water.

Ballard goes on to get married, have kids and get jobs and stuff, but the most interesting imagery is the early life in Shanghai, and his return visit in 1991.

Sicily

Can you 'review' a whole island by visiting it for a week? - When your as dismissive and rash as I am, you can probably do it via Google Images.
In a few words- the west is crap, the east is ace.
We flew into Trapani (nothing there, a typical ridiculous RyanAir destination), and made our way to Palermo. Palermo is the capital, and is therefore much bigger than anywhere else. We found a few redeeming features- notably the food markets, fresh squids lay in ice, buckets of little fish and weird fruit and veg were shouted about by enthusiastic Italians- food doesn't come much better than this. There was a few sculptures, and fairly decent art exhibition, but on the whole its fairly lame. Theres hundreds of cars, garbage fills every street corner, the bars were trashy and the restaurants filled with immigrants selling keyrings. Theres almost no reason to be in Palermo, you might as well go to a city in mainland Italy.

We spent a day in Agrigento on the south coast- its fine, got a few Roman/Greek temples and stuff, but they're everywhere, better than Palermo, but still only 6/10.
Passing Catania (which didn't look great, but we only saw a bit) we then went to Taormina, and more specifically Castelmola, which is up in the hills behind Taormina. This place was in my top few places I've been to- the views were insanely good, looking over the sea and villages. Theres a few shops and restaurants there but its the views that make it (picture above). Its a bastard of a trek down to Taormina, theres a steep winding path, but you feel fit after doing it, and if you need a reason to buy ice cream, this is a good one. Taormina is a really nice town, big enough to keep you happy for a week, small enough not to piss you off with the amount of people. Strangely I bumped into one of my mums friends- little village in Sicily, off season, shops are shutting- and I bump into someone I've know for 20 years. Weird.

We spent a day up Mount Etna (above, I know it looks like a whale or something, but its not, its a volcano). There's no colours, the sky was white, the snow was white, and the rocks and road were jet black. Its like being set in a bleak Bergman film, where everything has been obliterated, and your left in black volcanic rocks, clouds and snow. Etna was defo the highlight, I cant imagine a stranger landscape to be in- Castelmola was a cracking reminder our planet can be neat, but only 70 odd miles away lay this indescribable post-apocalypse landscape. How all these so vastly differant places are all on this small island i've no idea.

The Generals Daughter- Alexander Pushkin

Not much point writing about classic authors, they are 'classic authors' because they are good. Therefore any review of mine, a man who is completely unable to write reviews, is just going to be 'good, read it'- and this is the case with The General's Daughter.
If only to make this post worthwhile, I should probably elaborate, and at least make clear this is nothing to do with a stupid John Travolta movie of the same name. This is the second book I've read about some Russian falling in love, and his town getting invaded by Kosaks- in fact, I assume the other (The Turkish Gambit by Boris Akunin) at least referred to this book.
My favourite element of the story at first seems innocuous- the protagonist gives away his sheepskin coat to a beggar- the beggar turned out to be the invading Tsar in hiding, who later pardons the protagonists life (there you go, you dont need to read it now).

I run a bookshop, so am interested in publishers, and Heron Books deserve credit, just one guy decided to publish loads of classics in dead good covers. They look old, but their not. They look expensive, but their not. They are just well made books.

Rasputin

As a fan of horror films, this was strangely my first Hammer purchase, and I am pretty sure I could have made a better choice elsewhere. Christopher Lees performance as Rasputin is the sole saving grace of an otherwise ordinary film, dominated by half characters, who I couldnt give a toss about. Even the Tsarina, who was Rasputins sole reason for being remembered played a realatively small role, and the rest of the Romanovs were bearly mentioned. Lees manaical laugh, one of its saving graces at the start, even started to piss me off towards the end.On the up side, he did look a bit like Rasputin. Thats the entirity of 'the up side'

Stalins Nemesis- The exile and murder of Leon Trotsky

Finished this recently, I didnt know much about Trotsky, I knew Stalin was a bad man, but not that they were enemies or anything, or the lengths Stalin went to kill Trotsky. Basically they fall out, he gets sent to Mexico, hangs around with Diego Riviera, Andre Breton and bones Frida Kahlo (behind Rivieras back, whilst the muralist was paying for his exile, the bugger).
You kind of get the feeling Trotsky caused more mayhem than the books says (he was Minister for War after all), but Stalin comes accross as a right dick, he spends ages tracking down and killing Trotsky and his family, whom you cant help taking the side of. The big winner is Lenin, whom is constantly prasied and whom both Trotsky and Stalin looked up to as a messiah.
I like books about Russia, and the was one of the good ones.

The Glass Menagerie

Tennessee Williams play is currently showing at The Playhouse, and seemed pretty much sold out when I went yesterday.

In the tenement apartments of St. Louis, the Wingfield family struggle to make ends meet. As America is ravaged by the Depression, Amanda clings to memories of her idyllic youth in the South, where she was wooed by scores of rich and handsome suitors. With her husband long gone and her own days of courtship over she is determined to find her daughter a husband. But Laura is painfully shy. She plays with her collection of glass animals and lives in a world of her own. And Amanda's son, Tom, an aspiring poet in a dead-end job, secretly dreams of escape.

The performances are thoughlly compelling- especially Imogen Stubbs, who plays the mother. You quickly get over the southern American accents, which initially sounded a bit wierd. The past few plays I went to have been big story lines, with either loads happening or faster paced, this isn't, its more a concentration on a family life, all set in their front room. I didnt realise but it was a  kind of self portrait of Williams early life, and feels like the preamble to On The Road, just before Jack Kerouac sets off on his cross-country adventure, he has to deal with his family buisness- that being his sisters spazzy leg and mothers moidering. The Glass Menagerie (collection of glass animals) seems to be an alagory (oooohhh) for his sister, who never does anything, except play with her bits of glass, one of which breaks.