LaRose

We have a small branch library in Much Wenlock, and we’re lucky to have that. As with the arts, education, health and social services, the traffic is all in the direction of austerity. So when I get into that welcoming little building I don’t rely on what happens to be on the shelves. I’m usually picking up a request I’ve made, where I’ve read a review and they get the book from somewhere else in the county.

But this time was different. Short of things to read, I idly trawled the shelves, and found LaRose, by Louise Erdrich, and thought I’d give it a try. It’s just brilliant. The outline is staggering, though apparently based on a real incident. A man aiming to kill a deer finds that by accident he’s killed the sone of a friend and neighbour. Drawing on Native American custom, he decides that the way to atone for this is to hand over his own son to the other man’s family, for them to bring him up.

An outrageous premise, but she makes it totally believable, and gripping throughout its fouyr hunded pages. On the way, she takes in family tensions, teenage sex, the development of tribes over generations, the delusions of revenge and conspiracy, amid the background of current US politics. Erdrich is a poet as well as a novelist, and it shows. I can’t remember having enjoyed a book so much in years.

The Cass Report

Only an idiot would envy Hilary Cass’ job, in analysing the complex fiasco of the GIDS clinic at the Tavistock. Not surprisingly, it’s taken her a long time, and she’s produced a very long report. A lot of it is nece4ssary and intelligent. There is a dangerous lack of clear evidence about the effects of various treatments, and in some cases direct hostility to securing better evidence. The massive increase in young people reporting gender dysphoria is a serious problem, not just a fad to be waved away. And it’s clear that whatever side you take in this complicated mess, the management at GIDS did not handle serious professional disagreements with courage or tact.

Then Cass addresses, as she has to, the climate in which all this takes place. There are extreme views, social media attacks, outrageous accusations of transphobia directed at dedicated professionals trying to do their best. In this area, as so many the prospect of constructive debate is currently looking very remote. “This must stop”, says Cass, sounding like a primary school teacher calling six-year olds to order. But they’re not little kids. They’re older teenagers, swearing defiance and carrying knives, demanding what she plans to do about it, and right now the answer isn’t clear. .

Two Views of Labour

Everyone seems to think we’ll eventually get a Labour government, but there’s not much agreement about how much of an improvement that will be. I read Owen Jones’ Guardian article about why he’s resigned from the Labour Party, and it makes a lot of sense. There’s the urgent matter of Gaza, and Starmer’s refusal to acknowledge the urgency of the situation, or the strength of feeling mong his supporters. And beyond that there’s the dismal tale of retreat, of endless backtracking from positions that had seemed to be principled and secure.

But then there’s Ian Dunt, arguing that we can’t hope for much. This isn’t the time for gestures or even ideals. We should be happy to settle for a government that’s halfway efficient and not actually corrupt, because that would be a massive improvement on what we’ve had for the last ten years. Things might get better, a bit at a time. It won’t be pretty, but in our current desperate situation it would be rash to hope for more.

This isn’t a choice I enjoy spelling out, and at different times I drop on one side or the other, but I’d love to feel more confident, one way or the other.

Heartbreak in Ukraine

When Russia invaded Ukraine I devoured the papers, and took notes. Within a couple of months I’d produced a booklet of poems as a fund-raiser, and I faithfully listened to Ukrainecast to keep track of developments. But now? I know it’s still happening, but I’ve lost track.

So I watched the documentary “Ukraine: Enemy in the Woods” as a way to catch up. Little has changed. Ukraine is short of manpower and ammunition, fighting an enemy with an apparently endless supply of both. These young kids are enormously impressive, but they’re fighting in grim conditions against appalling odds, seeing their friends killed every day.

To them the only conceivable outcome is victory. Any kind of deal with Putin would be a betrayal of the sacrifices already made, because he can’t be trusted an inch. But the Western powers which have so far kept them going have limited resources, limited attention span, and the massive distraction of Gaza. I’m glad to have caught up a bit, but it’s hard to find glimmers of hope.

Aditya Chakrabortty

Where would be without zoom? In the last month I’ve heard a lecture by Pankaj Mishra, attended a seminar celebrating the anniversary of the pit strike, and had Andy Burnham and Steve Rotheram educate me about the development of the North. And all without leaving the house. Just remarkable.

The most recent event was one of the best - Aditya Chakarbortty talking about the development of his journalistic career. He is, obviously, a nice, pleasant, intelligent person, which helps. He was fascinating about his family and childhood, and how his own attitudes have developed. It’s probably only in the last year that I’ve consciously sought out his pieces, been aware that he’s one of the stable of Guardian columnists I’m keenest to read. Because they’re familiar faces, sometimes enthusiasm can fade, and people whose views often coincide with mine become over time a bit too familiar, less of a priority to read.

But he’s arrived more recently, and what strikes me most powerfully is his insistence on how much lies beyond the vision of the two main parties. There are lots of people untouched by the mainstream political drama, and Chakrabortty rightly sees it as his role to illuminate these untold stories. In this he joins a growing army of commentators - John Harris, Neal Lawson, Owen Jones, Burnham and Rotheram, Rory Stewart - who suggest that our current political system is not fit for purpose and the urgent priority for all of us is to find something better - more locally responsive, less tied by party loyalty, and able to harness the energies of people who want to improve the lives of themselves and those around them.

Darren McGreevey

At first sight, I thought “Glaswegian rapper tackles inequality” might be on a par with “Strictly star exposes third world hunger” - i.e. celebrity skimming over the surface of a good cause. Couldn’t have been more wrong. This is a tough, thoughtful series which includes more intelligent analysis per square minute than any other documentary you’re likely to see.

“The State We’re In” tackled UK inequality in three areas - justice, education and health - over three one-hour episodes. You can’t say it’s lacking in ambition. It’s also got a wide reach in terms of the evidence it examines. Obviously a lot of high-powered experts have seen this as the opportunity to share intelligent innovation, so we get three kinds of information - powerful testimony about the dysfunction of our current system, vivid examples of how they do it better in Scandinavia, and lively vignettes of the good practice that is nonetheless possible - against the odds - in the UK.

Holding it all together is McGreevey himself - warm, personal witty, but also driven by a passionate sense of justice, and anger at the consistent way in which that’s denied by our current government. So it’s a devastating indictment, but not a wallow in despair - there is light at the end of the tunnel, but we have to drag our leaders to see it for themselves. What more could you ask?

"...but how you played the game."

Sport is fascinating, in the way teams change. Maybe a new manager arrives, or a different formation suddenly seems to work, but as a spectator you get that exciting feeling - “this is different.” That’s been happening in the Six Nations rugby tournament, and was crystallised this weekend with another stunning game to follow England’s surprise defeat of Ireland last week.

This time, against France, the English didn’t win, but that didn’t matter. They were definitely worth watching, and they came very close, and they weren’t depressing to watch. Against Scotland, the heart sank every time we launched yet another hopeful kick from the scrum-half, which was dutifully fielded and swallowed up, as we gave up possession and any hope of scoring. Here there was speed and imagination, a willingness to try something interesting, and the talent to back it up. Even as they lost, this was a team worth watching.

There are different explanations as to how this happened. Was it simply that the Borthwick master plan took time to woork, and after a few games everything clicked into shape? Or did the players rebel against a restrictive structure within which they were being asked to play, and demand a bit more freedom? I don’t know and I don’t mind. I’m just glad that watching the England team play is no longer an embarrassment. .

Something Better

During the first lockdown, I signed on to the Ezra Klein show (a podcast run by the New York Times), because they had brilliant interviews about Ukraine, and there was a very generous opening offer. That offer’s expired, and I’m now paying over £50.00 a year, but it’s still totally worth it, and one of the few positive highlights of my week.

Ezra Klein is seriously intelligent. He reads a lot, thinks hard about what’s happening, and finds the right, precise questions to ask his guests in sustained 1:1 interviews, usually longer than an hour. They like coming on his programme, because they’re given time to develop what they have to say, and aren’t subjected to artifical arguments to entertain the audience. But that doesn’t mean it’s soft or easy. Klein’s recently completed a series of six programmes on Gaza, talking to a range of experts who between them cover a vast spectrum of viewpoints. You may not end up with an easy answer, but you do get considerably wiser.

Not that he’s not interested in answers. A recent programme explored the possibility of Biden not being the Democratic candidate. He is at the moment, and shows no inclination to stand down, but Klein thinks that may change. He likes Biden, admires what he’s done, thinks he could be President - but doesn’t think he can win the election. At the moment polls suggest that’s right, so Klein devotes careful, ingenious thought to exploring exactly how the Democrats might end up with someone else. Not obvious, but intriguing and constructive; definitely worth a thought.

Benefits

A quick skim through the papers suggests that all is not well with the benefits system. A woman commits suicide, because she has been persistently pursued regarding overpayments, despite the fact that she and her doctor have made it clear the DWP should approach her daughter rather than her. A study of single parents suggests that they are being punished and “set up to fail” by an unrealistic government drive to force them into something near full time work when their children turn three.

But maybe this will change with a Labour government? Don’t bank on it. Liz Kendall is anxious to insist that “there will be no option of a life on benefits.” The aim is not to humanise the system, to provide practical support which offers hope for the future. What’s important is to deny the scoungers, make sure nobody’s getting away with anything.

So the shadow play goes on, offering voters what they think we want to hear, and the chances of improving an inefficient and vindictive system shrink to zero. Like Wes Streeting says, false hope is worse than no hope, so let’s just settle for no hope and forget about making things better.

Real life TV drama

Every month I recommend TV programmes to a friend who has much less time than me to sort out what she’s going to watch. And every month that list is heavily skewed towards documentaries, because my patience with most TV drama is extremely limited, and although the documentaries are often sobering, they do at least deal with a life I can recognise as real.

This month, though, has been different. “The Way” came heavily hyped, with an intriguing trio of big names at its helm - actor and Welsh activist Michael Sheen, dramatist James Graham and intellectual documentary-maker Adam Curtis. A real mix, and at times a bit of a mess, but not quite like anything else you’re going to see any time soon - intense family complications, within a fractured world riven by social media and aggressive political control, set against a history of exploitation and protest. Enough to be going on with?

And then there’s Breathtaking. I’ve long been a fan of Rachel Clarke, a doctor who’s increasingly taken on the role of the writer who explains to non-professionals exactly what it’s like to work in the NHS. Someone surely has to do it. This is about Covid, and therefore involves not only the pressure of the actual work, but the added force of seeing that work lied about by the powers that be - and from that the need to protest in some way, to tell the world exactly what’s going on. So it’s as much a documentary as a drama, and maybe there’s things missing you’d want from a proper play, but it’s powerful viewing nonetheless.

Rossellini

Or maybe that should say “mubi.com, yet again”. One of the few brilliant outcomes from lockdown was my discovery of this film site. They made it really tempting - three months free subscription, just to give it a try. After a month I was totally hooked, and have been ever since. I still watch on average ten films a month, because they keep renewing thepackage, offering extra fresh goodies all the time.

And it’s not a mindless mess like Netflix, where real treasures can hide undiscovered among a smorgasbord of trash. mubi is curate, with intelligence, to encourage you not only to explore films you’ve never heard of, but also to make connections, follow threads, see how a director develops and matures.

This month it’s been Rossellini. I sort of knew about Rome, Open City, and the impact of Anna Magnani, but I don’t think I’ve ever watched it all the way through. Then there was Ingrid Bergman, and Stromboli, with the real life drama of the Bergman/Rossellini affair woven in with the film. Then again, Paisan is totally different, a really thoughtful, complex look at the impact of the war on Italy - on a range of characters, in a range of locales. Intelligent film-making, which really makes you think.

One-man Band

‘ “Fighting must stop now” in Gaza, says Starmer.’

It’s “fighting” that must stop, you’ll notice. Not the Israelis, who even now are not held to be responsible. But why is “now” so specially different from a month ago, or two months ago, or whenever Jess Phillips and various other shadow cabinet members were forced to give up their post for saying exactly the same thing?

They’re different, of course. They are not the leader who - as Blair and Mandelson are no doubt repeating daily - is in a very special, responsible position of having to decide, and is therefore always right. Except that in this situation, Starmer is blatantly, obviously wrong, and should have the decency to say so. But then again, Blair and Mandelson won’t let him, because that’s not what leaders do.

Starmer continually speaks as if he is simply a wise statesman acting on his own, rather than the leader of a party, to whom he could be accountable. If he’s so desperate to claim sole responsibility for transforming the Labour Party single-handed, he should have the honest to admit it when he cocks things up.

The Joy of Books

When the news is so unremittingly gloomy, it’s a relief to slid into an alternative world, to lose yourself among people or stories that writers have cunningly devised. Just at the moment, I’m doing that twice over, in incredibly different ways.

Downstairs, with a cup of tea before breakfast, and then at various points through the day, I’m working through the massive “The Covenant of Water”, by Abraham Verghese. It’s an Indian family saga, like Rushdie and many others, tracing the development of a range of characters over years. It’s lovingly, carefully told, totally convincing and enthralling, a real pleasure to read.

But when I go to bed I’m in an utterly contemporary America, inhabited by smart middle aged people who know what they think but aren’t quite sure how they feel. “Romantic Comedy”, by Curtis Sittenfield, is exactly what it says on the tin, a witty and affectionate study of a relationship, between a comedy writer and a singer. It features conversations and e-mail exchanges and is utterly contemporary but also driven by the same “will they? won’t they?” suspense that drives Jane Austen’s novels. I’m so lucky, and I’m dreading finishing them both.

Leadership

Yet again, I’m depressed by the quality of UK politics, especially so far as leadership is concerned. Before he became leader, Sunak seemed to have some admirable virtues - calm, clear-headed, trying to achieve some consistency. But in the present state of the party he seems obliged to go out on a limb, and perform extreme gestures in order to keep the membership onside.

It was fine, for instance, to attack Starmer’s changes of position, but who on earth persuaded him to echo the crude contempt of Johnson’s gibe that “he doesn’t know what a woman is.” As though identity really were a simple blokish fact of life, which only a fool would question. Even without Brianna Ghey’s mother hearing this, whether or not she had actually taken her place, makes very little difference. It’s just shabby, and he should be ashamed.

And then there’s Piers Morgan, who regards it as challenging politics to make a bet on air. I’d guess Sunak shakes his hand simply because he’s trying to be polite, doesn’t want to seem rude, without recognising that he’s putting himself on Morgan’s level, accepting that making an expensive wager is a masculine way of saying he thinks he’s right. And I’d love to say Starmer was better, but he’s just equally depressing in a different direction, constantly changing his mind while pretending that he’s being rational and consistent. Just pathetic.

Fame at last

I’ve been entering poetry competitions for a while, and relative to many I’ve been lucky - I can produce a list which makes me look quite successful. But I know that the price of those few successes is a much larger number of failures. Last year, for instance, I sent out thirty poems in January-May, and has no success with any of them.

So it’s great to record what may well be the peak of my poetic career. On Saturday, February 3rd, at the Dugdale Centre, Enfield, David Constantine presented me with the first prize in a competition he’d judged - out of 1000 entries. That’s good enough in itself, but what I’m even more impressed with is the quality of the judge.

I’d heard the name, but to my shame knew very little in detail - though I discovered a lot through frantic googling between being told on Monday night and travelling down on Saturday. He’s a celebrated poet, winner of the Queen’s Medal (and there’s only one of those each year) as well as being a world-class translator of poetry. He’s also a lovely, decent human being who’s brilliant at talking about poetry, how it works and why it matters. This surely is as good as it gets.

Politics Weekly

During covid lockdown I stopped watching the Tv news, because it was so depressing. I’ve never gone back to it, because it’s so bitty and superficial, and while my main news source remains reading the paper copy of The Guardian, I’ve increasingly supplemented that with podcasts.

But it matters which podcasts. Friends have recommended The Rest is Politics, with Alastair Campbell and Rory Stewart, but while they’re both knowledgeable and entertaining, I find the pace at which thy skim over topics (“Can’t take the risk of being boring - keep moving!”) frustrating and dissatisfying. I’m much happier with John Harris’ Politics Weekly, which spends its weekly half-hour concentrating on one main topic, with two or three voices being given the time to explore an issue in depth.

That doesn’t mean the result is cheerful. A recent episode, for instance, was a powerful shove in the direction of despair. It looked ahead at 2024, so far as domestic politics was concerned. By the end, I had a clear picture of a dead-end Tory government, postponing the election for as long as it could, and intent upon poisoning the wells of public discourse so as to make life as difficult as possible for its successor. I think that’s probably accurate, but until now I hadn’t grasped how depressing a prospect that will be, and how unlikely it is that anything can avert it.

James Gillray

I’m not a huge fan of Christmas, but I am impressed by the impact of a well-chosen Christmas present. This year, on the strength of a rave review in the LRB, my son bought me a copy of “James Gillray”, a massive, expensive study of the eighteenth century caricaturist. It was too heavy to comfortably manipulate on my lap, so I ended up reading it at the dining room table, for a quarter of an hour each day.

And what a treat that was. The drawings are amazingly intricate, and fantastically energetic. The text carefully explains which particular politician is the target and why, and the illustrations are brilliant, often producing two copies of the same picture at different scales, so we can grasp both the specific detail and the overall design.

There is, too, a complex political and technical background, whereby different people may contribute to a particular cartoon - original idea, drawing, engraving, publication, promotional campaign. Sometimes Gillray was personally involved, but sometimes he wasn’t - serving whichever power group was willing to pay for his services. His work inspires modern artists like Martin Rowson and Steve Bell, but it’s astonishing to grasp that many of these masterpieces were never drawn at all - but inscribed immediately, in reverse, onto metal platyes. Just astonishing.

The End of the World?

And just was I was starting to get hopeful (see Louise Casey, from January 14) I’m now almost totally depressed. The reason is a TV documentary about the return of Trump, made by Robert Moore, the one who made that incredible liver report from the January 6th assault on the Capitol.

His argument is that Trump is doing much better than he was in the build-up to the previous election, and that Biden - however preferable in our terms he may be in his response to climate, Ukraine or Gaza - is really struggling. There was a patronising Guardian review suggesting that Moore was throwing up his hands in horror, and not analysing the situation clearly enough, but I think that’s wrong.

He produces a series of people who talk about why they used to support Biden, but will now support Trump. Black, Muslim and young - not realistic beneficiaries of a future Trump administration, but nonetheless determined that they haven’t got what they were hoping for, so they’ll try something else. Something else will definitely turn out to be worse than last time. Trump wants a private militia just like Putin has, and is making massive preparations to replace large parts of the government operation with his own supporters. If he gets close but doesn’t win, he has a large number of armed supporters who will fight to support the cause - and that’s a fact, not an image. Win or lose, things will get worse, and the impact of that on climate, Ukraine, Gaza is fairly easy to work out.

Louise Casey

Louise Casey arrived on the scene as an uncompromising bruiser - “I’m the solution, you’re the problem.” There was a notorious early incident when she calculated that the best way to make an impression on assembled police officers was to get drunk and swear at them.

She’s come a long way since then. Her current radio 4 series, Fixing Britain, is just brilliant. She focuses on a range of tricky problems, and in half an hour presents intelligent, specific ways in which these can be tackled. It’s not all about her; she’s assembled an impressive network of experts who really know what they’re talking about, and if you get sceptical there is the track record - with covid imminent, huge numbers of homeless people were suddenly taken off the streets and into safety. And who ran that operation? Louise Casey.

But this isn’t just her banging her own drum. It’s also a very specific analysis of how government can help, and where it can go wrong. She prodcues plenty of examples of both, and over the five episodes she extracts general lessons for government - what works, and what doesn’t. This is a brilliant series, because at this low point in our governance it actually offers tangible, realistic hope.

The Post Office Scandal

It is astonishing, as Gaby Hinsliff writes in today’s Guardian, that it takes a play to make people notice the Post Office scandal. Yesterday I sent a poem about it to Culture Matters, and they posted it; but I sent the same poem to them two years ago, and it sank without trace. The facts, and the outrage, have been clear for years, so what does it take to actually change things?

More than you’d think. A few years ago, you’d have said that the Williams report was the solution to the scandal of Windrush. A detailed tough analysis of what went wrong, with clearly defined solutions as to how to put that right. Priti Patel accepted those conclusions in full.

But now, does anyone remember what they were? Suella Braverman wasn’t impressed, dismissed Williams as “not set in stone”, and cancelled some of the work it had begun. Sunak didn’t seem to mind. Labour didn’t seem to notice. Our fearless independent media somehow found other topics far more interesting. The Amnesia industry is alive and well.