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May 16th was the tenth Anniversary of my wedding with Teresa. Unfortunately I booked a ticket to a gig on the same day without noticing the clash of dates. When it drew nearer, and I realised, I tried to convince Teresa to join me, in attending the concert, but she didn’t want to, alas.

Anyhoo, I wound up going anyway, as I was determined to see Louis Cole live, having only recently discovered him, and so often missing such events. Going down to London for a gig was great fun. I drove all the way. I didn’t need to worry about the Congestion Charge, as it was after 6pm.

I had the car parked in a hotel, by a valet! This was arranged through Just Park, and was great. The gig was at Heaven, where I used to go to the club night Megatripolis (or Mega-Triple-Tits, as we sometimes knew it). Those were strange days, when I was something of a lost soul. I didn’t like the techno/trance clubbing or ‘rave’ scene that these nights were part of. But the crowd I was hanging out with at the time were really into all that shit. And tumbleweed soul that I was, I drifted along with it.

Anyway, all that is another story, perhaps for another time. On this occasion I was there to see/hear some music I love. There is a bit if irony inasmuch as I would’ve preferred, I think, to see Cole with other supporting musicians, as opposed to performing solo.

His solo act consists of looping stuff played via keyboards, using a laptop running some sort of sequencing software, singing along, and occasionally hopping on the drums to go ape. It’s a strange mix, frankly. As a drummer I really enjoy the kit segments. And I’m quite surprised how much others appear to enjoy this part to.

However, the singer/songwriter aspect of his craft suffers a little in this format, as he has to layer the sounds live – on this occasion, impressive as he was, it was far from flawless – and he tended to cut the songs, once they got going, rather short.

Now, my memory might be failing me here, but whilst I heard a good number of his ‘hits’, I missed a few I particularly would’ve like to have heard, such as ‘?’, Blimp and Things.

I was also a trifle disappointed at the merch’ stall, which had just the one rather crappy tee-shirt, and only his most recent Time album, on CD and vinyl. I bought a copy of the CD. I had been intending to perhaps buy several CDs, by which I mean I was hoping to acquire both other discs if former recordings, and multiple copies to give to friends/family. But in the end I only bought the one, for my own personal ‘stash’. Partly ’cause only the one was available, and also cause I wasn’t sure who, if anyone, might appreciate it.

My final thoughts on this concern the child of our times type idea: I’m now in my late forties; Cole’s in his early thirties, and the audience was mostly very young (teens/twenties). This impinges on several factors: the energy/vibe, which was very much that of youth. And then there are the ‘fashion’ aspects, which affect both the music, and his Cole and his fans present themselves.

As I grow older I care less and less about the tribal identification that’s part and parcel of modern culture, and modern pop-culture in particular. And whilst Cole’s music speaks very directly to me, the visual presentation aspect isn’t quite so concurrent.

His goofy dancing in, for example, Weird Part of the Night, I absolutely love. But his sartorial choices – goofily postmodern, part kitsch, part lazy slob (witness the towel nightgown in the Things video) – is a little alien to me. It seems to partake of a dayglo trashiness (and his Knower musical stuff even more so, esp. in the visuals aspect) in a way that revels in the junkiness (and I mean disposable tibbish, not drugs) of contemporary culture.

All of this comes to a head in his spoken word recitation, to the backing of ‘More Love Less Hate’, which I both admire for its unabashed retro-beatnik candour, and find slightly awkward. I guess this sums up Cole and his music, as it currently stands: impassioned, admirable, and slightly awkward.

Like his performance, this was less than perfect. And, in some respects, that in itself was as much a strength as a weakness: it was real. The most ‘jazz’ thing about his performance – and he’s been schooled in the jazz tradition (taught by big-band dude ‘?’ and citing hearing Tony Williams’ Lifetime as life-changing) – is that at its core, and despite the use of tech/loops, it’s live in-the-moment improv.

Folk like Vulfpeck and Cole give me hope that modern music still has a human heart, or – dare I say it? – soul. Vulfpeck’ connectedness and indebtedness to traditions of funk, soul, etc, are more trad and obvious. Cole’s somewhat more chameleon and magpie like, and consequently both a bit more radical and uneven.

Still, I’m glad I made the effort to get out and see him play live. It’s not something I do much anymore. In truth it’s not something I’ve ever really done that much. And despite flying solo on this occasion (actually it’s a lifetime M.O. with me) it was both fun and worthwhile.

 

 

Well, I have to say it again, I love YouTube. Once again I find a new artist, to add to others I’ve discovered there, such as the brilliant Vulfpeck and, going back a bit further, the interesting antipodean King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard.

The last of these – KG&tLW – was a refreshing blast of young prog strangeness, a little off my usual map, but overlapping in areas (odd time signatures, some stuff leaning towards the jazzy/funky or even folky spectrum), whilst Vulfpeck (and Jack Stratton, Theo Katzmann and the Fearless Flyers, etc.) were gobsmackingly poifeck for me.

Louis Cole is somewhere between these two, in that his output is quite prolific, and kind of balanced between Knower, a duo/band project with singer Genevieve Artadi and others, and his own eponymously titled output.

The stuff he does with Knower is very interesting, and most often also very good.  But like KG&tLW, it’s a bit off my usual musical map. And, like the proggers from Down Under, that’s partly due to youthful exuberance. Knower has a level of intensity – I find their video-songs more enjoyable than the many live performances that are online – I find wearying!

You might say, ah, you sorry ol’ duffer. But, truth be told, I’ve always preferred the mellower thide of sings, even though I do like everything from Coltrane’s Interstellar Space to Slayer or some Meshuggah. And I love intense funk and rock, prog, folk, etc. It’s not intensity per se, it’s the particular qualities, or specifics of how it’s done in any given instance.

So, Knower aren’t always my cup o’ tea. But Louis Cole? Now that’s another matter! I love Vulfpeck and Jack Stratton. I really love ’em! But Louis Cole is somethin’ else. For starters, he’s a phenomenal drummer. And as a drummer I love that. Actually both Jack Stratton and Theo Katzmann (no to mention the many guest drummers they’ve had, which includes Louis Cole as it happens) are superb drummers. But LC is at an altogether ‘nother level.

There’s a drummer that used to live local to me, Ric (Byers?), who does stuff under the 05Ric moniker with Gavin Harrison. Any knowledgeable drummer will know Harrison is choptastically mind-boggling. But I actually prefer Ric’s ‘chaos jazz’ drumming style, over Gav’s metronomically polished super-clean super-tight style.

Louis Cole, on the other hand, can do everything from tight simple minimalist drumming to clattering jungle or chaotic jazz, and has that kind of bubbling polyrhythmic intensity that conjures all sorts of potential influences, from Tony Williams and Rashied Ali to Mike Clark, or possibly even Jake Leibezeit, or Dave Garibaldi?

Funnily enough (funkily enough?), however, it was only after I’d listened to him quite a lot that I realised how great a drummer he is. This was partly because several of the times I first encountered him found him playing with other folk (e.g. sitting in with Vulfpeck), or not drumming, but singing, playing keys, etc. (e.g. the monstrously magnificent Thinking Live Sesh, on which Nate Wood is drumming).

But even just seeing him pumping out the groove to Vulfpeck’s It Gets Funkier made it very obvious there was something different and special about him: looking like he’d just got out of bed, and still had on his jammy’s, he plays a deceptively intense funk groove open-handed – left hand on hi-hat, right hand on the snare – and looks like he’s in a world of his own.

And that last observation kind of captures the essence of LC: he really is in a world of his own. A musical one-man-band world of his own making. And it’s a beautiful world. It really is. Cole looks much more comfortable multitracking and multivideoing himself on YouTube than he does in most his collaborations (Knower excepted). As he says in an excellent talk he gave [where? Link?], when it comes to his own music, he’s a bit of a control freak, he knows what he’s aiming for, and he’s the best placed to realise his own audio and and visual visions.

I think he’s been putting stuff out, mainly/mostly via YouTube, for about a decade now. The vast majority of it is simply sublime. And even the stuff I’m less keen on (and there’s actually very little of that) is both very interesting in itself, and… well, I could blather on. Just check it out yourself.

His earlier material is slightly more lo-fi, not unexpectedly, seeing as he’s learning on the job as an online content creator. But it’s also more varied and eclectic. Some is downright weird, whilst other stuff can be quite ‘sweet’, it’s all both very good and very interesting. It’s still early days for me, in terms of exploring his complete back-catalogue, but at present my favourite of his earlier material is Below The Valleys:

That was a more recent discovery for me. The stuff I’ve been mostly diggin’ on is more recent, i.e. within the last year, and includes all of the following: Blimp, Weird Part Of The Night, Things, Sometimes, Thinking, Phone, Drive, blah…

So, not only is he a brilliant drummer, but he’s a superb singer – those high notes in Sometimes! – a sublime songwriter (and mixer/producer, etc.), an excellent keys player, and a dab hand on sundry other instruments, such as guitar, percussion, and so on. And as if all that wasn’t enough, he’s witty, edits/directs fantastic videos, and looks like (and appears to be) an incredibly cool cat! Damn!!

But whereas all this talent might make one nauseous, envious, deflated, or all three, Cole’s music, indeed his whole vibe, is so beautiful, so joyous, that many (clearly, from the comments on his YouTube videos), myself included, are utterly seduced and charmed, captivated and inspired, by his creative output.

I’m a bit of an occasional one man band myself. And I’ve got a fairly huge back-catalogue of music languishing on hard drives. The blissful intensity of experiencing the sound worlds of Louis Cole is making me wonder if perhaps I should pick up my own musical threads, and put it all out there.

After the drama of the world number one going out to an unseeded amateur, I watched Judd Trump go four-nil down to his older Thai opponent, Un Nooh. And now I’m watching two of snookers least charismatic players slugging it out at nine frames all.

In an interesting little article about how the BBC are wrecking TV sports coverage by changing the theme music from great originals to pale characterless modern imitations (e.g. the current snooker theme), the journo also bemoans the predominance of such ‘characterless bureaucrats’ as Graeme Dott in the modern game. Harsh!

But whilst ‘Beefy’ Bingham looks like a cabbie, and Dottie does indeed look like an accountant (in fact, he looks quite  like my accountant!), they both prove themselves to have some character after all, in a match which first sees Bingham go eight-one ahead, then nine-four. And finally, after Dott takes five frames in a row, they’re at nine all.

Bingham eventually won. Just. For two rather colourless players, this was a surprisingly exciting game.

I was unable to follow this match closely, as I was working on teaching admin at the time. But I had it playing (glitchily!) on BBC iPlayer, in the background.

I came into it with Ronnie down, five frames to Cahill’s eight. Ronnie then took three rapid frames to level, at eight all. His eighth frame was so quick I missed it altogether by merely popping downstairs momentarily!

Then, as I did my Summer Term timetabling, for one of my schools, Cahill took his ninth frame, in a game thatcsee-sawed excitingly both ways, with Ronnie looking certain to win towards the end. But Cahill stole it in the end.

And then he took his tenth and the deciding frame, potting right up to the black, after Ronnie had an unlucky red in-off whilst potting the blue. What a win! An amateur and Crucible debutant beating the World number one in the first round!

Ronnie seemed out of sorts the whole game, only occasionally showing brief flashes of brilliance. Mostly looking irritated and unfocused, making numerous odd shot selections.

Oh dear! I bought this for Teresa, for 50p, from a local charity shop. She likes her period dramas. And, if they’re good, so do I. This was pretty dreadful.

I could tell it was going to be duff right from the opening sequence, in which some stained glass is rendered in a very modern way, finishing in a portrait of Elizabeth I as a very easily recognisable Cate Blanchett.

Unlike the Catholic Church, who were upset by the way they’re villainised in this film – and they are a set of sallow faced pantomime devils, no mistake! – what offends me is the way that modern filmmakers seem obsessed with rendering history as soap opera.

Clive Owen’s Walter Raleigh is a smugly self-satisfied himbo, and Cate Blanchett’s Queenie and her coterie of giggling ladies are about as Renaissance as cellphone selfies.

The music is sub LOTR. Kind of what one might expect from scene-setting sounds in a made for TV fantasy series with delusions of grandeur.

Rhys Ifan’s villainous Robert Reston is, whilst allegedly based loosely on Robert Ballard, pure fiction. Indeed, the whole film is a ludicrous patchwork of fictions. More like a fantasy film than a historic epic.

Art critic Kenneth Clark observes that a great leap forward was made when Renaissance artists realised that they needed to depict other ages not as reflections of their own times, but as they might actually have been. We appear to have stepped backwards in time, in this respect.

Like so much modern media, it’s all about surfaces. As a Cambridge local, member of the National Trust, and someone who likes visiting beautiful old buildings, it was fun to identify numerous locations as they appeared (the River Cam and The Backs standing in for The Thames, and Ely Cathedral’s Lady Chapel all dressed up, etc.). It is visually sumptuous, but that actually becomes annoying when there’s no real substance underneath.

The idea that some viewers might watch this garbage and take it for a historical account is more than mildly worrisome. It also panders to the very strong and growing tendency here in England these days to airbrush royalty, be it ancient or modern, into some chocolate box idea of ‘real’ nobility.

Not sure if I saw the earlier Elizabeth movie, by the same director. But watching this does not incline me to make sure I have. Nor would it surprise me to learn I had actually seen it. And then forgotten it completely. If it’s anything like this, forgetting I’d seen it would be a blessing.

I remember seeing trailers for Elizabeth, The Golden Age, at cinemas around the time it came out. I half thought I’d like to see it, in particular for the recreation of the Spanish Armada. But even that, impressive as it is on some levels, was actually a real disappointment, being ridiculous in its panto level rendering of events.

Visually lush, in most other respects it is, at best, anodyne, and at worst, mawkishly sentimental. History and substance fall prey to set dressing and fantasy. Don’t bother.

Getting on for three years in our new home now, and still not put up any of our own artwork. I decided to put that right today, and put up six fairly old acrylic abstract painting ‘studies’, plus a print of a Brice Marden.

I also put up a small Samuel Palmer postcard in the lounge.

Part of the idea behind putting up my own stuff is to motivate me to start doing some new artwork. The same goes for Teresa. I’ve recently unearthed the printing press I/we bought her for her 50th, as well, with a view to getting her going on that (and, I hope, me to!).

Teresa and I signed the ‘revoke article 50’ online petition. When we signed there were about 3.6 million signatures. It looks like it’ll exceed 6 million very soon. It’s by the far the largest number of signatories in a U.K. Parliamentary petition ever.

We, the signatories, have already received an email reply, saying the government will not revoke article 50. However, since then the Scottish parliament has voted in favour of revoking article 50. So the move to remain in the EU appears to be gaining traction even amongst some (S)MPs.

As well as signing the petition, I posted on FB encouraging everyone I know who shares similar pro-European feelings to do likewise, and I’ve also written both to my local MP, Stephen Barclay (Tory), and even Theresa May.

I doubt either will ever know I wrote to them, as I doubt either email will get past the filtering processes both undoubtedly use. So I thought I’d post my message to May here as well:

Theresa May

I have read online, in numerous places, that you have said to revoke Article 50 would be a ‘failure of Democracy’. In my opinion democracy as practised by the Conservative Party has already, and for a long time, been an abject failure.

For example, the Conservatives conducted a shameful and misleading campaign on proportional representation, a form of voting that could and should increase the real strength of democratic representation, which, like the Brexit issue, included the cynical use of a referendum.

In both instances the Conservatives were not seeking the best outcome for the people they supposedly represent, but the outcome that they themselves favoured. Properly implemented proportional representation would weaken the Conservative grip on power, and if the Conservatives really want to conserve anything at all (aside from, all too often, their own wealth) that grip on power would be it. And you’ve done a good job, occupying the position of ruling party for 75% of the time since WWII.

Mention of WWII brings me back to Brexit: one of the key reasons for almost all of the aspects of Pan-European cooperation since WWII has been to prevent the resurgence of petty nationalism, such as stoked the fires of the two World Wars. Yes, the institutions of Europe may be far from perfect. But many of us believe it is far better to work from within. If we leave the EU, we will almost certainly be precipitating further political fragmentation that may well usher in a more volatile nationalistic era in politics.

Do the Conservatives really want their international political legacy to be to return us to a pre-WWII state of affairs?

Whilst I doubt that you will see/read this, I hope that you do. And even more fervently I hope that you have the political and moral strength to admit that pandering to the anti-European factions in both your own party and the country at large was a mistake. Be strong, be courageous, be a real leader: revoke article 50.

Sebastian Palmer

What I think May really means, when she says there’s been ‘a failure of a Democracy’, is that there’s been a failure of Tory policy. The Tories opened this can of worms, but they don’t want to eat it. May now wants to worm out of her onerous responsibilities, by quitting her post when a firm steady hand is needed most.

The Tories have no fear or compunction about betraying or upsetting that part of the electorate that doesn’t agree with them. Their desire to ‘stand firm’ and not revoke Article 50 is entirely about conserving their own political following. Just as they didn’t want PR, ’cause it’d weaken their grip on power, they don’t want to alienate their hardcore anti-European followers. Screw the rest of us!

Interestingly, and tellingly/unsurprisingly, the way the Tories are handling Brexit, including their use of referenda, relates very notably to their approach to PR, by which I mean proportional representation. The 2017 general election saw a difference of approx 2% in the number of votes cast for Labour and the Conservatives. And yet, with our current system  that translated into an 8% difference in number of seats. That’s the kind of ‘democracy’ the Conservatives are so keen to, erm… Conserve!

And the will of the people? Which people? The turnout for the Brexit referendum, from a potential total of just over 46 million voters, was about 72%. And of that 72%, about 50% voted leave, and 48% voted remain. So, just as the first past the post system we currently employ can and does deliver a party into government on an approximate one-third support basis (and not even necessarily the party with the highest number of votes*), so too with Brexit. As things stood at the time of the referendum, the leave vote represented roughly one-third of the eligible electorate.

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* This has cut both ways: in 1951 marginally more people voted Labour than Conservative, but the number of seats didn’t correspond, and the Tories won. In 1974 the roles were reversed, when a fractionally higher Tory turnout returned a Labour government!

Right, first off, a  link to the petition so you can find it and sign it quicker than I did. Every piece I read online about it appears to omit this.

Teresa and I signed it this evening. The number of signatures when we signed stood at about 3.6 million. I’m encouraging everyone I know to sign it. Ok, so Europe and her institutions are far from perfect. But better to work from within, than outside.

I’ve liked snooker since I were a nipper. I think partly ’cause dad would watch it occasionally. We even had tiny kiddie’s table for a while! But as an adult I haven’t  watched or followed it much at all.

Just recently, however, during an extended period of complete mental and physical exhaustion (probably caused by my medical conditions), I’ve been getting really into it. For one thing, there seems to be more tournaments on, and very rapidly, one after another.

I’ve  even taken to exploring archival matches on YouTube. But yesterday/last night there was a live treat, in the shape of a Judd Trump vs. Ronnie O’Sullivan quarter final, in Llandudno, Wales.

The series is part of one of many sponsored by a betting company (see my recent rant about the rising tide of betting).  The players, in their dark and Conservative garb, and like the arena itself, act as advertising hoardings for the sponsoring companies. I try my best to block out this this tidal wave of in your face  mind-manipulation. But whereas I can mute the TV ads in the breaks, I can’t ‘mute’ auch visual material – eye-pollution – from within the game.

Still, onto the real meat of this post: I’ve discovered that I, like many others I would imagine, am a great fan of snooker in the ‘Hurricane’ Higgins/’Rocket’ Ronnie mode. And consequently the Trump/O’Sullivan match promised much, both players being renowned for flair and speed.

I didn’t see all of the afternoon session, but I saw enough to know Trump had gotten a 4-1 lead. And this conformed in many respects to the new kid on the block formula, of the younger Trump usurping the elder king of the game. The commentators, including Stephen Hendry, clearly favouring the young lion over the senior silverback.

When I picked up the game again properly, Trump’s lead had grown to 8-5. With Trump needing just two, and Ronnie needing five, on the form they’d been showing thus far, Trump remained the strong favourite.

And then came a pair of very long tactical frames. I suppose these are an essential part of the game. But, as the commentators themselves concede, they don’t really make great televisual viewing. Hendry made me laugh heartily at one point, clamming up for a while, before wryly asking his co-commentator, in a long-delayed riposte to the question ‘have you taken a vow of silence?’ asked what his favourite kind of food was. Yep, this may have been a gripping match of wills for the players, but endless safety shots leave viewers at risk of losing interest.

After Trump won the single longest such duel, of something over 45 minutes, to take the lead once again, it looked to be all but over. But what’s this? O’Sullivan found his vintage and celebrated form, storming to victory in the next two frames with consecutive century table clearances.

Any true snooker addict, I would assume, and certainly this one, prefers a decent fight to a whitewash. And at nine-all, that’s what we were enjoying, no mistake. But, like a well directed film or play, the greatest excitement still lay in store.

The final frame was a real peach: first Trump did what he’d been doing all through the match, playing superbly, and establishing a strong 50-0 lead, looking every bit the winner. But then he missed a fairly ordinary red, and Ronnie leaped in.

Then, after a decent but not long or strong enough visit, it was Ronnie’s turn to fluff it.

As Phil Yates observed, by this time they must’ve been running on adrenaline and instinct, which was no doubt a strong element of what made the final set so volatile and exciting.

Trump had had many chances to put the frame and match to bed and, on the yellow, looked like he couldn’t fail to do so. But playing like his younger less mature self, he tried to power it in. Rattling in the jaws, it stayed out.

Yates couldn’t believe he hadnt just rolled it in. Nor could I. Yates’ co-commentator, David Hendon said that wasn’t Trump’s way. I know what he means; Trump is known for his brash flash potting. But there had already been many times in this match where he’d shown exemplary delicacy of touch, rolling in slow wafer-thin acutely angled pots, many much tougher than this match-winning yellow.

Where Trump needed just the yellow, Ronnie needed all the remaining colours. And he proceeded to coolly pot them, taking his time, showing the maturity that’s given his extraordinary talent that added longevity. The match had truly been, as Jill Douglas excitedly and accurately described it, ‘epic’, even in the truly Tolstoyan sense, with the two 40-45 minute plus frames.

And in the end it came down to the final ball of the final frame.

When O’Sullivan potted the black, I was ecstatic, clapping at the TV like a truly demented loony fan, grinning ear-to-ear. The crowd loved it, the pundits loved it. Ronnie, punching the air and beating his chest, clearly loved it. What a match! Sports at its best.

I’ve only just learned of the existence of Judd Trump, which shows how long I’ve not been following the game (when I last ‘followed’ it, via my dad, ‘Hurricane’ Higgins, whilst past his best, still looked human). I really like Trump, and against most opponents would’ve been rooting for him.

But Ronnie really is a legend, with some sort of dark powerful charisma. I hope he goes on to win the series. He’s recently threatened to quit the game altogether. I hope he doesn’t. But if he won this, reaching world no. one again, and then quit. That’d be, like this match, high and nigh-on fairytale drama.

Oh, and this post wouldn’t be complete without mention of that pink.

I have to confess I’m quite surprised at the positive reviews this book has been getting on Amazon UK. Yes it covers a lot of ground. But boy is it boring! Jon Mathieu clearly knows a lot about his subject. But, as he says himself, this book evolved from lecture notes delivered to his students. And it reads that way.

Here’s a typical sample, from chapter five, ‘Paths To The Nation state’, under the subsection heading ‘Trajectories of Regional Development’: ‘Power relations as they existed before the consolidation of territorial state institutions in the 16th century were a starting point for the respective paths of constitutional development.’ Heavy going.

I’ve read a good number of books over the years that deal, as this does, with the interaction between landscapes and humanity, one of the best of which is Britain Begins, by Barry Cunliffe (or at another level, Earth, by Simon Fortey [1]). The best of this sort of writing manages to be both simple and accessible whilst conveying complex ideas about multifaceted interacting subjects. I found this to be rather leaden, and whilst mention is made of all sorts of exciting moments in history, from Hannibal to Napoleon, it never manages to be exciting.

There aren’t enough images in this book either. The two maps at the start are good. But more, and better detailed, would’ve been helpful. Indeed, I think decent geological maps, and more on the geology/geography, etc, not to mention occasional political maps, would’ve been good. Mention is also made of numerous objects d’art, but images of these, which might’ve imparted a bit of interest and excitement, are notable by their absence [2]. And the scant few images there are simply confirm that more would’ve been better.

Personally I found this hard going, and when I encountered, as I did numerous times, aspects in which I have a prior interest and relatively limited knowledge, such as the Napoleonic era, in which the Alps play a significant part, this book added little or nothing of interest. Whilst in other areas, such as Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps, or the part they played in WWI, where Italy fought the Austrian-Hungarian Hapsburg empire, about which is like to know more, the coverage is too minimal and dull to do what better books so often achieve, and inspire further reading/interest.

One of the few things I found interesting in the book is how in recent times a transnational European position on The Alps has been growing. One of the best things this has meant is that the Alps have ‘never been as peaceful … as they are today’. Mathieu attributes this to ‘the European unification movement’. And to my mind Brexit (never mind Trump and his wall) seems a retrograde development that threatens this trend toward internationalism, understanding and cooperation.

For me this was a missed opportunity. Overly academic in tone, and touching on many exciting and interesting subjects, and yet never really managing to scale the heights of exciting, or even climb the foothills of merely interesting. Disappointing.

I found the above video, on YouTube. Being short, succinct, and illustrated with imagery throughout, I enjoyed it much more than the book.

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NOTES:

[1] Admittedly the scope of these other books is bigger, especially Fortey’s Earth, in which humanity is a tiny part. But the basic underlying point is that these books are accessible, enjoyable, exciting, even inspiring. Turgid academic prose they not.

[2] One might’ve expected to hear mention of Caspar David Friedrich, and preferably see at least one of his paintings reproduced. There is a painting very like his work, showing the Slovenian Alpine peak of Triglav, by Markus Perhard.