‘Christmas: A Biography’ by Judith Flanders

Flanders_Christmas

2017, 244 p.

You’ll often hear people sigh “Ah, Christmas isn’t like it used to be”. After reading Judith Flanders’ Christmas: A Biography, you’ll realize that Christmas was never “like it used to be”. The idea of an idealized, ‘lost’ Christmas  is just as much a myth as many of the so-called ‘Christmas traditions’- most of which are wrong or misplaced.

The gospels themselves don’t really give specifics, and the few specifics they do give are problematic. There was a census in 6CE, but Herod had died ten years earlier, and there is no record of a census that required men and women to return to their place of ancestral origin. There is no mention of a date, but it would have been too cold for sheep in December, so it certainly wasn’t in December.  From the second century, the Eastern church celebrated Epiphany on 6 January (and indeed, it still remains an important date in many Christianized cultures)  and it was Julius I, Bishop of Rome (337-352) who decreed that Christmas should be observed on 25 December. A whole clump of Saints Days occurred in December and January, as well as the Roman Saturnalia festival in the first half of December, Kalends to bring in the New Year and the celebration of the solstice on December 25. There was a rich brew of traditions which could be incorporated into what we know as ‘Christmas’.

From the start, food and drink was important. By 389 the Archbishop of Constantinople warned against the dancing and feasting to excess that were occurring on the day, and by the mid 7th century Theodore of Tarsus, Archbishop of Canterbury was reminding his congregation that the church frowned on gluttony. Certainly the few remaining menus from medieval feasts are stomach-churning. All the food, both savoury and sweet, was laid out at once, and often cleared away for a second ‘mess’ where a whole new table of food would be laid out just in case you hadn’t gorged yourself witless with the first ‘mess’.  It was very meat-oriented. Mince, or ‘shred’ pies really did have meat in them, Christmas pudding was thick beef stock with dried fruit. (I wonder if that explains the persistence of suet in pudding recipes, although I always used butter).

Processions, fairs and plays all  provided entertainment. There was an element of ‘misrule’ in many of these entertainments, with servant-as-master inversion and Twelfth Night japes.  But the rosy myth of all the villagers being invited into the ‘big house’ was just that – a myth.  If anything, the gift-giving went the other way with people giving presents upwards to their patrons, and any charity flowing back down again was given rather grudgingly.

The Puritans did outlaw Christmas, forcing the shops to stay open, but as Flanders points out, what the law says and what people do in the privacy of their homes are two different matters. When the prohibition on Christmas was lifted – amazingly, not until the 1950s in Scotland! – the shops still had to stay open because now everyone was feasting and drinking openly again.

A friend of mine mentioned how she invited friends around two years in a row to help decorate the tree, and on the third year she was expected to do it again “because it’s a tradition!” Traditions don’t take long to embed themselves, as the later chapters dealing with the 20th century manifestations of Christmas show. Flanders goes from one invented tradition to the next, popping them like balloons.  Carols were just secular songs (pop!); Santa was originally a little elf, as in The Night Before Christmas (pop!); then he was a tall skinny man (pop!); it wasn’t Price Albert who introduced the Christmas tree to England, but rather the Princess Lieven or Queen Adelaide wife of William IV (pop!) The ‘ancient’ tradition of carol services was invented in 1880 and held at Kings Cathedral only since 1918 (pop!) More recently,  Chanukah (Hanukah) and the Afro-American invented ‘tradition’ of Kwanzaa have been rolled into the ‘festive’ season.  First books, (e.g. Washington Irving’s History of New York and Charles’ Dickens A Christmas Carol)  and now films shape our visual impression of a “traditional” Christmas.

The book moves chronologically, but I confess to finding that it skipped around quite a bit, with similar information appearing in different chapters. The chapters don’t actually have titles, and so it’s not clear quite what the organizing principle is. The lack of an index exacerbated this problem. In fact, it’s only now in writing this review that I realize that there is a ‘legend’ of icons that appear in the margins of each page  (e.g. carnival and riot; drinking and drunkenness;  greenery; religion ritual and rite).  However, the icons are so liberally sprinkled that they don’t make locating specific information any easier. The chapter-notes and primary/secondary references are only available through her website. The footnotes at the bottom of the page (yes!) are digressive and quirky. The whole book has the feeling of being a light read.

The book is also rather Protestant-focussed if  it is about religion at all, which is of course Flanders’ main point: that Christmas is at heart a polyglot secular festival, rather than a religious one.  The book deals with England, America and German and Scandinavian Europe but there is no mention at all of the ‘New World’ except a fleeting mention that improved transportation could bring Australian or Argentian meat to British Christmas tables.  In keeping with the research interests of her other books (e.g. The Victorian House: Domestic Life from Childbirth to Deathbed and The Victorian City: Everyday Life in Dicken’s London) her focus is on the domestic and everyday, the emotional and the experiential.

She starts her book with a quote from the poet C. Day Lewis:

there are not Christmases – there is only Christmas – a composite day made up from the haunting impression of many Christmas Days, a work of art painted by memory. (cited p. 2)

She finishes her book by pointing out:

By repeating the rituals, we can go back there every year. Christmas nostalgia is not only for the Christmases of our childhoods, or those we have read about, or seen in films and television. It is a conflation of all those Christmases, a pick-and-mix collection of traditions, emotions and rituals. Some are ours, some our parents’, or what we think we remember of what our parents have recalled of their own childhood. Others come from books, from magazines, from how Martha Stewart or Nigella Lawson or the Food Network or Oprah tells us things have ‘always’ been done, validating our own, or brand-new, customs by claiming that they are long-standing rituals based in historical reality. (p.244)

With just one more sleep until Christmas, I enjoyed this book even if it brings out the ‘bah-humbugs’ in me. It provides plenty of ammunition against the conservative ‘keep Christ in Christmas’ and ‘Ban Happy Holidays’ culture warriors.  And if you want a visual, cut-down version of the book, here’s the video that alerted me to Judith Flanders’ book and prompted me to read it:

My rating: 7/10

Sourced from: Yarra Plenty Regional Library

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 9-16 December 2019

tamerlane

Amir Timur or Tamerlane  Photographer: Adam Jones https://www.flickr.com/photos/adam_jones/7494229100

Empires of History – The Ottoman Series- Not many episodes left to listen to, but centuries of the Ottoman Empire left to go. I’ve got a feeling that this series is just going to peter out.Episode 11: Of Thy Insolence and Folly looks at the Battle of Ankara between the Thunderbolt Sultan Bayezid and Timur- better known to me as Tamerlane. Ye Gods, what a monster HE is! In Episode 12: The Battle of Ankara and the Death of Sultan Bayezid 1 follows through to Tamerlane’s victory.

 

My 2019 Adelaide Writers’ Festival. Perhaps I should just pretend that I’m there, eight months later! David Marr discusses the essays in his collection My Country, but it’s a pretty digressive (and, being David Marr, loquacious and at times rather arch) talk about his writing over the years, particularly his writing about ‘monsters’.

In Rise of the Right,chaired by Dominic Knight, there are three speakers: Carolin Emcke
(Against Hate), Nancy MacLean (Democracy in Chains) and Jeff Sparrow (Trigger Warnings.) This festival took place in March 2019, before the Australian Federal Election and there was still an expectation in this pro-Labor crowd that Labor would win, and Brexit was still a great muddle.  Emcke spoke about the European, and particularly German experience of the rise of hate, while Nancy MacLean spoke about the work of economist James McGill Buchanan and the influence of the Koch brothers in a determined attempt to subvert democracy. [There wasa great deal of controversy over this book when it was released in America].Jeff Sparrow spoke about the Australian experience, and the use by the right of the concept of ‘political correctness’ as a form of attack in the culture wars.  It’s an interesting podcast.

Chewy, chewy

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My brother is no Marie Kondo. He finds it very hard to throw anything out, which is why he brought this 45 rpm record back to me yesterday. Yep, it has my name on it. Chewy, chewy? The Ohio Express? Do you even remember that song? We started humming ‘Sugar, Sugar’ until we realized that we had the wrong song, and then we were stumped. What was Chewy, Chewy???

Ye Gods.

In 1968 I received 25 cents pocket money per week. Singles like this cost 99 cents. That’s a month of saving. I have been robbed.

‘The Labour of Loss’ by Joy Damousi

damousi_labour_loss

1999, 163 p & notes

It really wouldn’t have surprised me if this book had been reissued in the last five years, but it wasn’t. It would have done very well in the deluge of books about WWI between 2014 and 2018, and dealing as it does with loss experienced during and resulting from World Wars, it fits very neatly into the  ‘history of the emotions’ school of historical enquiry, which has high prominence at the moment.  But it wasn’t reprinted, and so it remains a fore-runner to much work that has been completed in its wake.

As Damousi says in her introduction

This book examines the stories of those for whom loss in war remained the experience through which they understood themselves, and through which they shaped their lives. After the wars ended, their lives had been irrevocably changed through continuing grief, for the burden of memory would remain with them as they attempted to rebuild an internal and external world without those to whom they had been so fundamentally attached. (p. 6)

Damousi is very conscious that she is dealing with ‘white’ soldiers and the experiences of their families, and mentions in several places that the burden of memory was often disregarded for indigenous soldiers.  A strong gender theme runs through her analysis.

The book is divided into two parts. The first deals with the First World War, the second part deals with the Second World War.

Part I : The First World War

1. Theatres of Grief, Theatres of Loss

2. The Sacrificial Mother

3. A Fathers Loss

4. The War Widow and the Cost of Memory

5. Returned Limbless Soldiers: Identity through Loss

Part II The Second World War

6. Absence as Loss on the Homefront and the Battlefront

7. Grieving Mothers

8. A War Widow’s Mourning.

Conclusion

The themes of the grieving mother and wife are dealt with in both sections, while other themes e.g. soldiers writing to bereaved families, the return of limbless soldiers, or absence from home are dealt with in one section only. I’m not sure that there is a qualitative difference between these emotions and events between the two world wars, and perhaps the decision to locate a topic in one war rather than the other depended on the sources that Damousi uses.

As Damousi points out in Chapter 1, when a soldier died at the front, it was quite common for his friends in the battalion to write to his grieving family themselves. Sometimes bereaved families ‘at home’ drew their son’s friends to themselves like adopted sons. While writing these letters to other families at home, the soldiers were almost rehearsing their own possible death.  Meanwhile, back on the homefront, delayed letters continued to arrive from sons who had been killed , and bereaved families forged their own links with each other.

Blood_vote

Wikimedia

 

Chapter 2 and Chapter 7 both deal with grieving mothers, but in World War I the mother figure had a political as well as familial role. Not only was the mother lauded for “giving up her son” but the Conscription debates drew heavily on the image of the mother both as  the one who sacrificed, but also the one who determined, men’s fates.  ‘The Blood Vote’, for instance, placed the burden of decision onto mothers, rather than fathers or sisters.

Yet when it came to financial support for widowed mothers who lost their sole breadwinner, mothers soon found the limits to compassion for their sacrifice. After being giving a prominent role in the immediate post-WWI period, by the 1930s mothers found themselves shunted to the side of parades and their pensions became increasingly inadequate over time, especially when additional payments were granted to widows but not mothers.

In the World War II section on mothers, Damousi makes similar observations, drawing on the diary of Una Falkiner, whose son died in a plane accident in September 1942, and Hedwige Williams whose son  Charles Rowland Williams died in Germany in May 1943. This chapter -, shaped perhaps by the sources available? – seemed to me to have a deeper emotional timbre than the corresponding WWI chapter.

Chapters 4 and 8 deal with war widows. What is common to the experience in both wars was that the war widow tended to become public property as her lifestyle and life choices were judged by others to determine whether she qualified for a widow’s pension. It became rather unedifying as neighbours, other widows and mothers informed on those who they felt were ‘undeserving’. Again, in relation to the Second World War section, the same themes recur in the experience of women in the two wars, but in Damousi’s account she draws more heavily on a particular source – in this case, Jessie Vasey, the widow of General George Vasey who died in an Australian plane crash when he and several other high-ranking defence officers died near Cairns. She channelled her grief into political and charitable action for war widows but, once again, after the immediate post-war years, women found themselves and their sacrifices pushed aside.

The correspondence between the Vaseys also features strongly in Chapter 6  ‘Absence as Loss’ where Damousi  draws on Vasey’s letters back home to illustrate the yearning for domesticity expressed in much wartime correspondence. Interestingly, I have just finished listening to an excellent podcast series called Letters of Love in World War II, where a British couple range over philosophy, yearning and domestic trivia in their 1000-letter correspondence. Again, it is perhaps not so much a qualitative difference between the two wars, as a question of sources.

The depth of sources has possibly also influenced Damousi’s decision to deal with fathers’ grief in World War I, and not in World War II. In Chapter 3, ‘A Father’s Loss’ she examines the extensive archive of John Roberts, an accountant with the Melbourne Tramways Board, who lost his son Frank on 1 September 1918 at Mont St Quentin. Perhaps there was a particular plangency in losing a son so close to the Armistice; or perhaps the almost-obsessive pursuit of every possible way of documenting and making contact with those who may have seen, or been with, his now-departed son reflected Roberts’ own personal approach to traumatic events. In either case, Roberts’ correspondence is a rich and complex archive of grief for the historian.  More generally, however, fathers maintained a more prominent public part than mothers and widows in commemorating their sons through political organizations and they leveraged their ability to influence policies.  In the Second World War, however, fathers (many of whom had served themselves in World War I) found that the reactivation of war challenged their ideas of patriotism and their own earlier sacrifice. They often found themselves harking back to their lost pre-WWI world, which they had been unable to secure.

Of course, World War I and World War II was interspersed by the experience of the Depression. It forced hard decisions about sacrifice and worth in finding and holding scarce employment. As Damousi points out in Chapter 5, initially there was strong pressure for governments, councils and private employees to offer jobs to returned WWI soldiers, and particularly soldiers who had been injured. However, when jobs became scarce,  returned men without injuries were preferred employees, and war widows were expected to yield their jobs to returned soldiers.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the title of this book.  I’m not sure if the loss that she mentions here involves “labour” as such, although it certainly was a life-changing event for those who were left. But then I find myself thinking of the title of Shakespeare’s play “Love’s Labour Lost” which to me has its echoes in this title. For, without actually spelling it out in her title,  what comes through in Damousi’s examination of memory and grief, is “love”.

AWW2019I have included this on the Australian Womens Writers Challenge database for 2019.

Source: La Trobe University Library

 

Movie: Knives Out

This is a real hoot, with a fantastic cast. But among all these cinematic luminaries – Daniel Craig, Christopher Plummer, Jamie Lee Curtis, Toni Collette- this film absolutely belongs to Cuban actress Ana de Armas. She cries beautifully, and is completely convincing.

I usually don’t like big-house murder mysteries, but this is really good!

My rating: 5 stars. Really? Maybe 4.5 stars. Nah. 5 stars.

‘Olive, again’ by Elizabeth Strout

Strout_OliveAgain

2019, 289 p.

I’ve read quite a bit of Elizabeth Strout over the last few years, after falling in love with the first book of hers that I read in 2015- Olive Kitteridge.  I’ve read three others since then: The Burgess Boys, My Name is Lucy Barton and Anything is Possible, but I found myself enjoying them less as their similarities became more obvious. I decided to give myself a break from the Strout ‘brand’ for a while.  But when I saw that she had released another book about Olive Kitteridge -my favourite of all her books-  I lined up straight away to read it.

Like the original Olive Kitteridge book, Olive, again is a series of linked short stories where Olive Kitteridge appears at some stage- a bit like Alfred Hitchcock in his movies. The stories are all set in Crosby, Maine which appears to an Australian reader as the quintessential East Coast American town.  Sometimes the chapter is about Olive’s life, at other times she just has a walk-on part with the focus on someone linked to her.  What is common to all chapters is a clear-sighted wisdom about human limitations and frailties. People here are snippy, bad-tempered, frustrated but these are foibles lived out amongst other people similarly flawed.  It’s a very domesticated, family-oriented world, that is very conscious of how stifling and lonely that world can be.

I absolutely loved these stories, and found myself rationing them out to just one chapter a day to make it last longer. Frances McDormand, who starred in the HBO television series now completely inhabits the Olive Kitteridge in my mind as the large, ungainly, abrupt and socially awkward woman who is almost oblivious to her (often negative) effect on other people. But this is an older Olive, who remarries after her first husband dies, and now needs to negotiate her estranged son and his new second-marriage family, with all the nuances of step-vs-natural children. Her health is failing; people are dying; she moves into aged care.  Finally, after all these changes, she mellows somewhat. She recognizes that she doesn’t have to say exactly what’s on her mind; that she can choose to say nothing.

I think that Elizabeth Strout is ‘killing off’ her Olive in this book – I can’t see how she could write another volume about her (death beds are a scenario that would be difficult to stretch to a whole book). But she is letting this character go with her own dignity and sense of self intact, and draws us as readers to view this with empathy and even love.

My rating: 10/10  – just as I rated the first Olive Kitteridge

Sourced from: Yarra Plenty Regional Library.

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 1-8 December 2019

Maree Man geoglyph at Finnis Springs near Maree

Aerial shot of Marree Man. Source: Wikipedia

Earshot (ABC) 24/10/19 Marree Man- is he a relation of Mungo Man perhaps? Well- no. He’s a huge carving of an Aboriginal man, etched into the red dust around the South Australian outback town of Maree 21 years ago. Yes- you read right- twenty one years ago, not 20,000. At four kms. in length and 28 kms in circumference, this is a huge piece of artwork – but who did it? Not  Erich Van Danikan’s Gods and their Chariots, but maybe  U.S. or Australian servicemen from the nearby Woomera base? Someone as a joke? It’s certainly a complex hoax, with fax machines clattering into life with mysterious faxes, and clues planted all over the world. The Mystery of the Marree Man is a fascinating podcast.

Hazel Rowley Lecture. Did you know that many of the Adelaide Writers Festival talks are available on podcast? In 2019 the Hazel Rowley Memorial Lecture was given by Maria Tumarkin, whose most recent book Axiomatic draws on the stories of multiple people, as did much of Hazel Rowley’s work with her joint biographies of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, and Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Satre. In this lecture, Maria Tumarkin presents as series of nine alternative openings to her talk, covering a  range of perspectives on life writing, the ‘NON-fiction’-ness of non-fiction, the art of biography and the hard graft of writing.  She identifies as the ‘take-away’ of her lecture, as Americans would put it, and it is that the task of the non-fiction writer is to write about real people in a way that makes it impossible for them to be scooped up and repurposed, or turned into something or someone else, to meet other people’s fantasies.  The person, she says, is sovereign: they are never ‘character’. This beautifully-written lecture is read, so it is a little too garbled in places and rather stilted in its delivery but it is nonetheless excellent listening (although the interference of a lecture from an adjoining hall at the Writers Festival is distracting)

Russia If You’re Listening (ABC) In Episode 6 The Spies Who Suck at Spying, Matt Bevin looks at the Russian assassination attempts in England dating from the poisoning of Alexander Litvinenko, up to the unsuccessful poisoning of former Russian military office and double agent Sergei Skripal and his daughter. (25/11/19)

Revolutionspodcast  While we’re over in Russia, Episode10.19 introduces Nicky and Alix, who were going to face the 1905 and 1917 revolutions. This is a pretty sympathic analysis of two people completely interwoven within the European royalty network of Queen Victoria’s children.  Episode 10.20 The Liberal Tradition (Such as it is) goes back to even Catherine the Great to examine people who might be described as ‘liberals’, even though they were few and far between, and reluctant to use the term. It then goes through the Tsar Liberator in the 1870s, the repression of Alexander III and culminating with historian and politician Pavel Milyukov who would become involved with the Constitutional Democratic Party (known as the Kadets)

Cuba’s National Art Schools

In the movie Yuli, the young Carlos Acosta stumbles on the abandoned National Art School on the outskirts of Havana. When I saw it in the film, I recognized what it was from an episode of ‘News in Slow Spanish’. In that episode they talked about these stunning, abandoned buildings, but being a podcast only, I didn’t realize just how incredible they are.

Loomis_school_ballet-small

By DuendeThumb – Donated to Creative Commons by author John Loomis, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14906296

Started in the early 1960s after the Cuban revolution on the site of a Country Club golf course, the Cuban government drew on the skills and vision of international architects to design a school for the arts that nestled into the curves of the former golf links.  But this sinuous, visionary architecture did not conform at all to the prefab, concrete architecture of the Soviet Union, which increasingly dominated Cuban architecture, and they were never finished.

Loomis_school_music

By DuendeThumb – Donated to Creative Commons by author John Loomis, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14906270

They were abandoned, and despite being put on the 2016 World Monuments Watchlist, two of the buildings are now close to collapse.  The movie Yuli is correct in that dancer Carlos Acosta wanted to restore them, but that caused controversy because it was seen as a form of privatisation by stealth.

In the most recent article that I could find (from 2018) it would appear that the Getty Foundation granted $195,000 for a project to conserve the site. (I wonder if that is still proceeding, given Trump’s attitude towards Cuba? And Cuba’s attitude towards America, as well)

I found a fascinating essay called Reading the Future of Cuba in its Abandoned Art Schools, which describes the background to the project, its use of space, and the role of the crowd in revolutionary spaces.

And here is a video, which starts off with very stirring Russian music, but then moves to a documentary about the construction of the schools. It’s in Spanish only, but if you turn on the subtitles (also in Spanish), you’ll probably be able to follow it.  It’s fascinating.  If I go back to Cuba someday, guess what I want to see.

 

‘The Great Irish Famine: A History in Four Lives’ by Enda Delaney

Delaney_Irish_Famine

2012 (under the title ‘The Curse of Reason’), 2014, 235 p. & notes.

Enda Delaney finishes his book with the death of Michael Collins, aged fifty, by the side of the road on 23 November 1850. This isn’t the famous Irish Michael Collins: instead he is an otherwise unknown man who, dying of hunger, was taken into a house. The priest was sent for, and he died on the floor.  He comes into historiographical view because of the inquest that was held into his death. That is one of the problems with writing about the Irish Famine: it can be writ large because such huge numbers were involved but when you come down to individuals, it’s harder to find them. The reality is, as Nobel Laureate Amartya Sen wrote, starvation ‘is the characteristic of some people not having enough to eat. It is not the characteristic of there being not enough to eat.’ (cited p. 115)  Those people not having enough to eat were overwhelmingly the poor, illiterate and  politically weak.

Books about the Irish Famine are nothing new – indeed, there has been a deluge of them since the 150th Anniversary in 1997. Because of the flow of Irish immigrants to America, Canada and Australia, each of those settler countries has its own Irish famine refugee stories as well. Where this book differs, perhaps, is that it takes a biographical approach to an economic/political event that is usually approached from a wide-angled perspective.  The four lives that Enda Delaney has chosen, because of the limitation of the sources, are not the victims. Instead, they were at the other end of the famine. There is John MacHale, the Catholic Archbishop of Tuam, who at first saw the famine as God’s punishment on his flock for their sins. Over time, he became increasingly critical of the British Government response. There is the radical nationalist John Mitchel, a leading member of the Young Ireland and Irish Confederation movements, who ended up in Van Diemen’s Land for his seditious activities. There is Charles Trevelyn, the assistant secretary to the Treasury, who has often been depicted as the Main Villain because of the policies implemented by the British Government. Finally, there is Elisabeth Smith, the Scottish-born wife of a Wicklow landlord, whose sympathies for the Irish peasantry became increasingly rigid.

The book moves more-or-less chronologically, but the four stories are interwoven with the factual narrative.  He is particularly good on the colonial networks that indirectly linked Elisabeth Smith and Charles Trevelyn, who were both in India at one stage. As events change, so too do people, and you can see the increasing radicalism (albeit expressed in different ways) with John MacHale and John Mitchel; the hardening attitudes of Elisabeth Smith who would otherwise be seen as a relatively enlightened landlord, and the increasingly harsh political medicine being doled out by the British Government wanting Ireland to deal with its own problems.  Even though Trevelyn is seen as the author of these policies, I know through my own work with the Colonial Office, that civil servants in a parliamentary system could not act completely independently.

I always tend to think of 1845 as the Irish Famine year, but in fact it continued right through until the early 1850s. Many of the people who perished died of ‘fever’ rather than outright starvation, although it was severe malnutrition that weakened their whole system. The British Government instituted a system of work-for-the-dole, but this broke down completely when people were just too weak to work. They then insisted that the Irish Poor Law look after the people in the workhouses, rather than have access to British Assistance.

What comes through most strongly is a dogged determination to follow the prevailing economic orthodoxy of free markets and punitive charity which 165 years later still holds sway.  Food was still being exported from Ireland; food imports into Ireland were not allowed to threaten the market; ‘charity’ was grudging and demanded complete abasement.  What did work was soup kitchens, but they were withdrawn prematurely in case people became ‘dependent’. The flood of famine refugees was feared and stigmatized, and landlords took the opportunity to clean-out small landholders by eviction, or somewhat more charitably, emigration schemes.

The power of this book is seeing these politics of ideology, and the politics of resistance being expressed in the words of individuals, and watching their positions harden as the crisis continued.  If you’re looking for ‘getting to know’ these individuals at an emotional or moral level, this is not the book for you. The book does work, however, at the level of personalizing the political. The original title of this book was ‘The Curse of Reason’, and although probably too vague as a title for a publisher, the orthodoxy of the free market and individualism was indeed a curse.  Hard-baked ideology, of any kind, is really not an edifying sight.

You can hear Enda Delaney being interviewed here.

My rating: 7/10

Source: La Trobe University Library

 

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 24-30 November 2019

Letters of Love in World War II. That’s it- it’s over. What a fantastic podcasts!!!  Listen to them!! Home at Last: Grief and Relief.  I hadn’t really thought about those months after the war was over, with the German soldiers coming home to Germany.  You’re told in the very first episode that Cyril and Olga went on to have a happy marriage together, so you know that nothing awful is going to happen at the last minutes before he gets home.  Really, really good.

 

Rough Translations.   Ghana’s Parent Trap  (20/06/18 – yes, it’s old)  In Ghana, parents ambitious for their children’s education send them to school at ONE year old, and expect rote learning and homework. A program to instruct teachers in play-based education had results, but when it was extended to the parents, it did not go as planned.

History Workshop. My very wise PhD supervisor, Richard Broome, advised me that when you’re presenting a paper at a conference, you should work on a ratio of 140 words per minute available to you. It’s a shame that Yasmin Khan wasn’t given the same advice when she presented her 2019 Raphael Samuel Memorial Lecture on “Women on the Frontline of Empire”. The podcast itself is interesting- looking at women during WWII across the empire (Africa, India, to a lesser extent Australia and Canada) and how the stationing of soldiers affected them, and the economic changes for individual countries brought about by the empire’s involvement in war.  But … her presentation is so fast and garbled that it’s really hard work.

Russia If You’re Listening (ABC). Episode 5  (18/11/19) When the Father of Brexit met Mother Russia is a bit of a misnomer, because there is no evidence (yet) that Nigel Farrage, (the Father of Brexit) actually met with Putin or his operatives. This episode traces the rise of Nigel Farrage, prompted by Mad Cow Disease of all things, and claims that Russia influenced the Brexit campaign through social media.

RevolutionsPodcast  Episode 10.18 The Witte System. Well, if the peasants aren’t up to a revolution, and your bourgeoisie is non-existent, what’s a revolutionary to do? Fortunately Sergei Witte (never heard of the man) arrived in Russia to stimulate an industrial economy and build the Trans-Siberian Railway.