2008 in a sentence

A good year for festive lights on trees, especially just outside of Hackney town hall.

Harold Pinter- a moment's pause

It's always a bit of a mystery what work will endure the tests of time, as they say. I suspect Pinter will be one of those artists who endures. For the best part of fifty years Harold Pinter has been one of the outstanding talents in British theatre, a platform where other writers have come and been forgotten but he has remained. The only playwright still living to have enjoyed, perhaps not enjoyed, this kind of longevity is David Hare, who I would expect to be largely forgotten within a couple of decades. Whereas Hare is working within current issues Pinter engaged in something much more existential and what could perhaps be described, when referring to certain plays, as timeless. Throughout his body of work there is a constant struggle between human conventionalism and the truth- it is somehow knowable and understandable but is lost-hidden-dizzied through cliche, courtesies, straight bullshitting (think along the lines of Tony Blair), failure to communicate, oppression... ad nauseam. It is of course all very well written, which is perhaps its best advocate to the future.
As a man I admired him quite greatly and found his Nobel speech to express a level of integrity, honesty and courage posessed by very few and articulated well by less. Judging from the films I have seen him in he was also a very fine actor with a superb comedic timing- as well you could probably imagine if familiar with his work.
There will be a slight ache in the worlds of literature and intelligent thoughtful discussion, and me, for a fair while.

Season special

My childhood..

Confrontation; a play

Confrontation.

THUG. What the fuck you looking at, prick??

HUMMER. Nothing.

THUG. Oh right, is it nice?

HUMMER. It fucking better be, pussy.