The Pitfalls of Stereotyping.

A multinational crowd in Paris, taken from the Eifel Tower.

You do it; you know you do. We all do, usually without realising it. We have a tendency to put all people from a nation, class, occupation or whatever into the same pot and accuse them all of the same faults. It’s a form of laziness, sometimes a simple resort to shorthand because we find it too onerous to look beneath the surface, sometimes because we lack experience, sometimes because our circle of friends and acquaintances simply isn’t wide enough.

Here, today, I want to look at the way we, as writers, can easily be persuaded into making our characters into stereotypes; specifically, national stereotypes. Of course, what we should strive for is the archetype instead, if we are attempting to portray a ‘type’ at all.

So, let’s start by understanding what a stereotype actually is. My SOED (Shorted Oxford English Dictionary - 2 large authoritative volumes for those who don’t know), my personal bible for definitions, defines the noun, for the purposes of this piece, as follows: A preconceived , standardised, and oversimplified impression of the characteristics which typify a person…often shared by all members of a society or certain social groups; an attitude based on such a preconception. Also a person…appearing to conform closely to such a standardised impression.

And, because it’s germane, let’s also look at what inspired me to post this today. My wife and I have just (Tuesday 2nd October) returned from a 10 day holiday in France. It’s a country I’ve not visited before, so my expectations of the people were formed by impressions from friends and colleagues. Now, it’s well known that the Brits and the French aren’t natural buddies. They’re said to consider us conservative, dull and uncultured. We, especially the English, apparently consider them arrogant, dirty, sexually predatory and unwelcoming to strangers.

 

But, Paris is as cosmopolitan as any major city so I also expected to meet people of many other nations. I wasn’t disappointed. We were greeted at Charles De Gaul Airport by a charming Frenchman, who drove us to our hotel in the city, speaking excellent English and quietly informative. The receptionist, Karolina, was a pretty, efficient, charming and multilingual Polish girl who greeted us warmly and answered all our questions with knowledge and confidence. The lady who prepared breakfasts and cleaned the rooms was a black Frenchwoman, with no English, who smiled and greeted us with warmth.

We’d booked an all day walking tour of the city and found the French staff at Cityrama helpful and competent with no trace of the arrogance they should have displayed with their superior knowledge. Our guide for the day was Chantal, a charming mature French lady who conducted the tour with skill, humour and encyclopaedic knowledge, shepherding our small group of five around the crowded Louvre, Eifel Tower and Notre Dam with casual expertise and patient attention to our varied needs. The group consisted of my wife and I, both from the north of England, an English woman from London and an American couple from a small town near Cincinnati, Ohio. The latter pair, who made no effort to speak even a greeting in French, could have impressed me with an idea of Americans as being selfish, self-important, inconsiderate, grouchy, complaining, demanding and generally rude. However, not only was this initial impression softened slightly during the day by the addition of a glimpse of inappropriate humour from the man, who seemed to think it okay to mock the armed guards patrolling the Eifel Tower, much to the distress of his wife, but also by his willingness to engage our lone black English lady in conversation.

It helped modify my first impressions of Americans that we sat next to another couple, from Texas, in the first floor restaurant at the Tower (lunch there was part of the package), and they proved charming and interesting neighbours with no trace of the gung-ho attitude displayed by our tour companions. When they left and were replaced by a couple from Washington State, my impressions were further improved due to their quiet and almost shy responses to our conversation.

I could go on to describe the French staff at the Tower restaurant (all charming), the Italian staff at the restaurant where we ate one evening (also charming), the Japanese group who shared our carriage on the train from Paris to St Raphael (amusing, multilingual and helpful), the French taxi driver who waited exactly as arranged via my pigeon-French emails to collect us for our ride to St Maxime and proved to be friendly and welcoming, and the various groups and couples we met on walks, boat trips and in restaurants - Swiss, German, Australian, English and French. But I think you get the picture.

Perhaps the one fly in the ointment, for the French, was the utter lack of customer care shown by the owners of the holiday resort where we spent our week in St Maxime. We were greeted there by an envelope stuck on the outside of the door of the reception point. An inadequate map directed us to our accommodation, where we were expected to make our own beds, and where there was nothing in the way of a welcome pack - no food or drink to refresh the weary travellers, not even any paper in the toilet, and no information about where we might buy such items. This theme extended throughout the week, with an early morning meeting demanded for the following morning, which we attended but for which they failed to show up. This was followed by a departure, where we were expected to allow an inspection prior to leaving, for which they also failed to arrive as arranged, leaving us concerned in case we couldn’t finalise things before the taxi arrived to take us to Nice Airport. As it happened, both these failures were dealt with efficiently and in a friendly manner by two English maintenance men who happened to be on duty, cleaning the swimming pool, at the times.

If I’d based my impressions of the French on the behaviour of the owners of that complex I would have left the place with a very different impression from the one I gleaned by contact with many other people. And that’s my point: apologies for the convoluted trip to arrive here.

If we, as writers, have no contact with the people about whom we write, it’s clear that we can’t rely on the impression provided by minimal contact with a few representatives of a nation or on information given by friends and acquaintances, no matter how well-meaning. The popular habit of labelling people from other countries as if they were all the same is patently absurd. The world, as a whole, seems to regard the French as arrogant, Germans as aggressive, Americans as obsessively self-important, Italians as incurable Lotharios, the Swiss as boring and the English as dull and repressed. If, as writers, we employ such lazy categorisation to describe fictional characters, we do the citizens of the whole world a serious disservice.  

People are different or the same according to our own perceptions, ideas, philosophies and personalities. Whilst the placing of a descriptive label on a whole nation may be considered acceptable for everyday reference (and I don’t think it is), it’s certainly not a satisfactory way for an author to represent a character. If I’ve learned anything about the peoples of various nations it’s that they’re all as complex and individual as we are ourselves. It’s an insult to make a box, label it ‘French’ and stick inside it every person from that nation, unless, of course, it’s a shorthand joke intended to create humour rather than offence.

We’re more than the seed of the country of our birth, however proud, or otherwise, we may be of that origin. Americans are more than America with its brash, overconfident, hypocritical, Bible-bashing, superior and dominating world image. Germans are more than Germany and its efficient, calculating, aggressive, bullying and precise global persona. And the English are more than England with its quaint, bumbling, reserved, atheistic and self-effacing world picture. Each nation is seen as a specific type by every other nation and these types differ according to which nation is describing which: a proof, if ever one were needed, of the inaccuracy of such stereotyping.

So, when you decide to make your villain an Englishman, your business tycoon an American, your lusty lover an Italian, your artist a Frenchman or your engineer a German, please call to mind the simple fact that people are individuals first and national types, if at all, a long way down the line. You’ll make your writing so much more real and accessible and, perhaps more importantly for a writer, you might even collect some foreign friends and readers along the way. 

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Sorry Folks.

Last week there was no Thursday post for my regular readers. Sorry about that. I was preparing for a holiday and simply ran out of time to produce a post before I left the country.

A post will appear here today, however, very shortly.

The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas, Reviewed

I read this classic on my Kindle whilst holidaying in Paris and the South of France, which proved serendipitous, as the bulk of the action takes place in these two locations. In fact, I recognised many of the places referred to in the book, as I toured.

A great tome of a read, it gripped me from the start and held my attention throughout, in spite of the often flowery descriptive prose, authorial intrusion and sometimes obtuse classical references.

Dumas draws the central character, Edmond Dantes, later the eponymous count, with a fine and sympathetic pen. The young man’s utter innocence is beautifully depicted as is his fall through bad luck into catastrophe. But his rise from near death and subsequent search for justice and revenge, acting as an agent of God, is sublime writing.

The author is, of course, writing his fable in France close to the time of Napoleon and his rise, fall and regaining of power. The Catholic faith is a deep and constant influence on the actions, thoughts and emotions of the novel’s characters. It is also a profound driver of the author’s philosophy and is often a subtle enough influence to deceive the writer into a false impression of his own impartiality.

The language is, of course, picturesque, detailed and full of allusion, as you would expect of a novel written in and for an age when readers had more leisure time and actively sought such full narrative form. Dumas often uses fifteen words where today’s readers would be content with four.

But the narrative fits the action, the period and the characters. This is deservedly a literary classic and those whose experience of the tale is limited to the distortions of Hollywood and the many adaptations (I except the brilliant 13 part series produced by BBC TV in the 1960s) will be unaware of the great humour and satire displayed by the written text.

This fable of man’s desire to usurp the role of Fate, God, or whatever other disinterested mechanism for corrective justice you envisage, is not an easy read. But it rewards the attentive reader with its ready exposure of both the dark and lighter side of human behaviour. It explains aspects of history, particularly French history, which might otherwise remain obscure. And it deals with ideas, themes and philosophies that might be imagined more modern than they are in fact.

I happily recommend this book, well aware that its length and content may make it appear too daunting to those modern readers reluctant to venture beyond the boundaries of the genre with which they are comfortable and familiar. Should you get the opportunity to read this, I urge you to do so. You won’t be disappointed.

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Are Your Characters Written to Fit Movie Stars?

I ask this question quite seriously, since I’ve seen a few articles suggesting people do precisely this. It would be a waste of time for me as I’d have difficulty in putting faces, let alone other characteristics, to more than half a dozen actors. It’s not that I don’t admire their skills, simply that when I watch an actor at work I lose myself in the character portrayed rather than watch the person playing that part.

For me, the essential aspect of a character is personality. Hemmingway suggested we should write about people not characters, as he described characters as caricatures. I agree with his first point. But his second is off the mark. A character is only a caricature if it portrays the person in an unlikely or exaggerated manner. A character, as used in drama and fiction, is or should be an imagined person drawn in such a way that the reader or audience will accept them as real.

Having said that personality is the vital aspect, I don’t mean to suggest that appearance is unimportant. It’s simply that appearance is a secondary consideration for me. In fact, when I create a character I always do so with some image in mind. I generally use a picture of a person collected from the internet. These are unnamed human beings who I use as visual frameworks to which I apply a history, relationships, likes and dislikes, traits and faults to bring them to life. Having a picture of the person I intend to create helps me develop a more rounded human being for the story.

I suppose I could search the internet for pictures of actors and then apply my method to those pictures. In fact, I suspect I’ve done so occasionally, without actually realising it. There is, of course, a very ‘good’ reason for using the physical type of a known actor as, if the work is seen as suitable for a film or a TV play, the producer may recognise the character more easily and use that recognition for casting. On the down side, however, if the chosen actor has always played ‘baddies’ and my character is actually a ‘goody’, such recognition could well prove an obstacle.

For me, applying the idea of the actor to the role of a character in my fiction would involve extensive viewing of films and TV works simply to identify potential models. I don’t have time to do that. I do, of course, watch TV and go to the cinema. But I do that in the spirit of escapism and don’t want to turn my leisure into an extension of my writing. In any case, I prefer to use my imagination, and employing ‘unknown’ human beings gives me far more scope to overlay the model with the characteristics I determine as necessary to the story I’m telling.

So, for me, picturing Emma Watson as other than Hermione Grainger, Johnny Depp out of pirate’s costume, Julia Roberts outside the role of Pretty Woman, or Robin Pattinson other than Cedric Diggory would be difficult. It’s not that I’m unaware of them playing other roles, simply that my experience of them is in these parts only. So, these images would overlay them as characters in my fiction and that would be counter-productive. It would limit my choices. I don’t blame the actors or their roles, simply my own lack of cinematic attendance.

So, to return to the opening topic. Do you make your own characters in fiction fit particular movie stars? And, if so, how do you get past the roles they’ve played? I’m intrigued, you see, and you may be able to pass on valuable lessons to me.

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Becoming A Writer, by Dorothea Brande, Reviewed

On 13 September, I posted a piece on the difficulties that often beset writers. In that post I mentioned Dorothea Brande’s excellent book, Becoming a Writer, and, having discovered I had never actually reviewed this seminal work, promised I would do so.

Here’s that review.

As budding writers, we’re all faced with a bewildering panoply of books on the techniques of the craft. As beginners, this huge bulk of work on how to perform the miracle many of us see as writing, can seem very daunting. So, why am I bringing to your attention yet another book, causing you further anxiety of deciding in which of the hundreds of volumes you should invest your valuable time and energy, let alone money? Well, let me first say that this attempt to persuade you of the value of this book isn’t aimed only at beginners. Well established, experienced authors will also benefit from the words of wisdom contained within this relatively slim volume.

The first clue is in the title. Becoming a Writer isn’t a technical manual. It’s not a guide to grammar, style or subject choice, genre, presentation or any of the many other, often contradictory aspects of writing that are shoved relentlessly at beginning writers. This, if at all possible, is the book you should read before you even contemplate immersion in the techniques of the trade. If that moment has already passed, worry not. I’d read dozens of technical books on the craft before I happened upon this wonderful book in the late 80s. But I wish I had come upon it at the very start. So much time and energy would’ve been saved and so much misunderstanding would’ve been avoided.

As Dorothea states so eloquently at the start of her encouragement to writers, we are all told, repeatedly, by books, lecturers, course leaders, and many others in the writing trade, that ‘genius cannot be taught’. Here, however, is a writer who exposes this lie and provides practical exercises aimed at discovering and freeing your own inner genius.

A word of warning: if you wish to continue your life believing yourself a writer without putting that possibility to the test, do NOT read this book. If you see writing as some sort of dilettante occupation involving no real work, DON’T read this book. Once she’s explained the lies behind the discouragement of so many of the writing trade’s so-called experts regarding the ‘magic’ of writing, she presents her readers with a hard choice. If, having attempted her initial exercises, you discover you’re incapable of following her advice, she suggests you take up some other career and leave writing to those who take it as the serious lifestyle it must be if anything worthwhile is to come from your scribbling.

This isn’t simply a book. In order to gain anything from reading it, the reader is required to undertake certain exercises. Initially, some of these may seem arbitrary, meaningless, pedantic, even a little odd. But, and I speak from experience, perseverance will pay out in spades. As a direct result of reading this book and following the advice, I’m now able to write anywhere, under any conditions, and turn out the germ of a worthwhile story more or less at will at one sitting. I believe that to be an aim worthy of effort. If you think there’s no chance of you ever achieving this level, read this book before you either give up writing or face the rest of your life in a state of dissatisfaction where your hopes have no chance of fulfilment.

I’m not going to attempt to provide a synopsis of the book. But I will quote a short statement taken from the back of the copy I picked up, second hand, for less than the price of a coffee. ‘Becoming a Writer…is unique and genuinely inspirational. She (Dorothea Brande) believes there is such a thing as the writer’s magic, that everybody has it in differing degrees and that it can be taught. This book is about freeing that unconscious ability in all of us.’

Both John Braine, who wrote the foreword of the edition I have, and Ted Willis have words of praise for the book. Braine claiming that it is ‘…the only book about writing which has been of practical help to me…’ And Willis describing it as ‘…the best book on creative writing and the process of creative writing that I think I have ever read…’

So, if you’re looking for a ready guide to discovering and utilising your innate abilities as a writer, and you’re prepared to put in the work required, this is the book for you. If, on the other hand, you’re only playing with the idea of becoming a writer, this is also the book for you; for it will confirm your lack of seriousness and perhaps persuade you to try something more suited to your personality.

I recommend it unreservedly to all those who take seriously the complex, wonderful, frustrating, creative, stimulating and rewarding art and craft of writing.

To buy the book:

Amazon UK £11.69, Amazon.com $10.49,  Book Depository (inc free postage for many countries) £6.88,  Via Squidoo, where you’ll also find a more extensive breakdown of the chapters. with various links to different booksellers. 

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I Can’t Get Started. I Can’t Continue. I Can’t Finish.

Occasionally, the words won’t come. Not because there’s nothing I want to write about, but because there’s too much. I have lists of topics I intend to use to engage my readers here on the blog, for example. But sometimes I find myself overwhelmed by the sheer variety of things that interest me. What doesn’t help is  that I’ve suffered from ME for the past ten years; one of the features of this debilitating condition is its effect on the brain, causing perceptual and short-term memory problems. It’s largely a neurological condition, distorting the control function of the hypothalamus. I thought I’d defeated it until a couple of weeks ago, when it returned with a vengeance. Took me a while to figure out that I’d been neglecting to take my regular rests after activity. So, it appears, I’m likely to have to deal with this for the rest of my life. I mean, if it hasn’t gone after ten years, it seems unlikely it will completely disappear.

I find that time spent on holiday in sunny climes has a fantastically beneficial effect on my health. I asked the doctor if I could go and live in the Mediterranean on the National Health Service, but she thought it unlikely! Still, my next sortie overseas will probably have a positive effect and I should return more energised, I hope. Roll on the hols, eh?

But, enough of my personal problems.

I know that a lot of writers experience difficulty in starting to write, others have problems continuing and many have difficulty with actually finishing a piece. There are probably as many reasons for these problems as there are writers, so I’m not about to start pontificating on what you should do and how you should deal with your problem, whatever it is. For one thing, I rarely have these issues, so I have little first hand experience. 

(At present, my own problem is that the ME is preventing me writing as smoothly as I do normally because it keeps misdirecting my fingers on the keyboard so that I have to correct a typo for every few words I’m typing - bit of a bugger, but hardly a serious issue.)

What I can do for those of you who have problems with starting, continuing or finishing is point you in possible directions where you just might come across a ‘cure’ it that’s not too strong a word for it.

First, two books that I consider absolutely essential to any writer:

Dorothea Brande’s Becoming a Writer ; this is essentially a guide to the way you should set about becoming a writer. It consists of advice and exercises. The exercises are an essential part of the process. I strongly urge anyone who suffers from any form of writer’s block, at any stage in their writing career, to read this book and do the exercises. They really are life-changing. But you must be prepared to put in the work. It certainly worked for me. I now see I’ve never reviewed this book, an omission I will correct very soon!

 

Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way ; subtitled,  A Course in Discovering and Recovering Your Creative Self , is a manual for finding the creative drives in your life. Again, there are exercises and, again, I urge that readers who wish to fully engage with their writing do these exercises.

I reviewed this book a while back and you can read that review here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/the-artists-way-by-julia-cameron.html#.UFGr9I0iaSo  

And, finally, for this piece, a few words of suggestions that might help you over those barriers.

Can’t get started?

Try simply writing down anything and everything that comes to you as you sit in front of that piece of blank paper or white screen. Literally everything. So, if your thoughts are, ‘I can’t think of anything…’ write it down. Often, the simple fact of having words on the blank sheet will unlock the gate and allow others to flood out. At this stage, it’s best not to review your writing but allow the flow to continue until you reach the end. You can always edit afterwards, and it might just get those creative juices flowing.

Can’t continue?

Try writing something else, something completely different from the story or book that’s causing the struggle. If the worst comes to the worst, copy something from another piece and develop that instead. The subconscious mind sometimes needs this sort of trick to kick it back into the groove you were previously ploughing (if you’ll forgive the tortured metaphor).

Can’t finish?

As with the first suggestion, just write whatever comes into your head, with no concern for errors, content or grammar. Sometimes we get obsessed by our need to get it right and this simply prevents us from getting it down. I repeat, you can always edit later. The creating and editing processes involve different parts of the brain and these two aspects of our make-up are often in conflict. By trying to edit as you go along, you’re actually denying your creative self the freedom it needs to work imaginatively.

Try it. What have you to lose? Don’t tell me it’s a waste of time: you were already wasting time sitting unproductively in front of that blank screen/sheet of paper, weren’t you?

Good luck with your writing, folks, and let me have your thoughts in the form of comments.

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What Drives a Writer?

Those of us who write, do so for a variety of reasons. I know of people who write entirely from a desire to make money. Others are driven to write about themselves, to tell the world about their exciting, boring, amazing, average, fantastic or mundane lives. Many are looking to put ideas into words, to explain to the world why things are as they are. Some are impelled by a deep desire to put things right, to educate those they see as unaware of what they believe to be important factors. And some simply love the idea of telling stories; entertaining, moving, amusing, scaring, arousing or exciting their readers.

Johnson famously said that anyone who wrote other than for money was a blockhead. I must be a blockhead, then. Money has never been a driver for me, in writing or any other aspect of my life. It’s a necessary evil, of course, in the commercial world we inhabit, but, as a driver, it’s empty and unfulfilling. So, I’m happy if my books sell. But I’m happier still if people enjoy what I’ve written.

I belong to that last class of writers in the first paragraph. But, and it’s an important ‘but’, I’m also compelled to write. There is deep within me the need to write. In fact, if I don’t write, don’t create something, on a regular basis, I feel unwell and unsettled. It’s as if my creative needs begin to pile up and block my channels to good health. I always feel better when I’ve written something new. So, I guess you could say that I write because I have to. But that doesn’t mean I see it as a duty or a chore.

I love words; always have. I love the way they can be played with to bring about so many different reactions. I hate the misuse of words, the easy option that results in cliché. Because I love words, as a tool and a means of expressing and conveying emotion, I also read, of course. Frankly, any writer who doesn’t read is doing both himself and his readers a disservice. How can any craftsman improve without input from others?

My imagination is my greatest asset; it’s a thing almost apart from me, feeding me with ideas and characters, situations and plots almost without any conscious direction, it seems. Imagination is what forms the core of my stories. But, as is always the case with anything of worth, there’s more than one component involved in the making of my tales. I have drives that are formed from a combination of my experiences, education, up-bringing, moral stance, interests and relationships. Those with well-developed perceptual powers will be aware that I care very much about justice, real love, fairness, intelligence, creativity and talent. As a corollary, I naturally loathe injustice, superficial attraction, ignorance, destructive force and dullness. These aspects inform my writing.

But, I write mostly to entertain and amuse my readers. I want to move, excite, shock, scare, arouse, anger, surprise, divert, cheer, sadden, jolt, soothe and amaze. Of course, having a proselytising nature (many of those who know me say I should have been a teacher), I also want to educate and persuade. In my early writing, this desire to convert readers to my point of view overrode the entertainment in my work. It took time for me to realise that readers of fiction don’t want to be lectured. A writer has to be far more subtle than the preacher standing in the pulpit before a congregation willing to swallow his message. So, I now keep the themes that drive me as just that; themes.

I’m fortunate in that I have a clever and honest wife who quickly spots any movement toward my urge to preach. And my writing group, made up of talented professional writers, never allow me to get away with anything that even sniffs of the soapbox. I remain blissfully unaware of the times I use language that might be considered pompous or even condescending. Because I left school at 16 with few formal qualifications, I assume that my knowledge of English is pretty average but, apparently, I sometimes use language in a way that certain readers might find difficult. It’s not deliberate, but stems from a desire to combine accuracy with a concise style. So, sometimes, the intervention of my chosen critics helps overcome a tendency to use language that might otherwise be seen as ‘clever’, never an intention but sometimes an outcome.

So, I write out of an almost physical need combined with a love of words and of the power of story to convey emotion. What drives you to write? I’d love to know. Please go to the trouble of commenting. It’s really very easy.

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‘You Always Get What You Deserve’: Another Blatant Bloody Lie?

Major religious groups (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Last week, I wrote a post titled, ‘Work Hard and You’ll Succeed: the Biggest Lie?’ Today, I want to explore, with you, another blatant lie.

We’re told, frequently and with much volume, that we get what we deserve. I think this is an attempt by some to encourage the first lie in the minds of those as yet unschooled in reality. It’s also, of course, a saying completely founded in the religious concepts that underpin the Abrahamic religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Their sacred texts explicitly tell followers that their rewards will follow from their actions.

But is it true? Do we, or indeed anyone else, get what we deserve?

Does the innocent child deserve to starve to death by an accident of geographical location? Does the winner of millions on a lottery actually deserve this piece of great fortune? Does the drug baron deserve a life of luxury and ease at the expense of those who suffer and die through his activities? Does the Chairman of a business empire deserve the exorbitant income he awards himself?

There are millions more examples of people receiving things they don’t deserve. In fact, I’d say that more people get what they don’t deserve than get what they do. In fact, I can think of very few people I know who have actually been given what they deserved.

I hear those of a religious mind-set yelling that we get our real rewards in heaven, paradise, or whatever other presumed afterlife they believe in. But such destinations are pure speculation. There’s no way of knowing whether they even exist except by taking that final step to enter them. By then it’s too late to discover that all your effort, good, bad or indifferent, has, in fact, resulted in you reaching the same end as all living things on death: i.e. the recycling of your components. If there is an afterlife, and it’s something we can never know since no one has ever returned with a reliable report, then surely the creator of such a splendid reward system would want us to be certain?

There’s little point in any deity permitting us to have doubts about such things, since these are supposed to be the very motivations that make us do the bidding of that deity. Yet the tales that are sold by the various religions are so different and contradictory. Surely any deity worthy of the name would at least remove the elements of doubt and dispute and provide a means whereby we could actually experience such rich rewards? Nothing else makes sense.

Of course, I understand that many are now yelling at me that I have to have faith. I’m sorry, but faith in something for which there is no evidence, let alone proof, strikes me as little short of imbecility. Does anybody seriously believe in fairies, a flat Earth, that Mars is inhabited by little green men or any one of thousands of such tales? We’ve dismissed the myths of ancient times, the tales of Zeus and his clan, Odin and his cohorts, Ra and his comrades, as early attempts to explain what was then inexplicable. A similar fate is already undermining current deities as reason and rational thought supersede superstition and folklore.

It isn’t that I deny absolutely the possibility of religious dogma having a basis in truth; it’s that I see such division in interpretation and I don’t believe it can be proven. The very existence of God is a matter we, as humans, will probably never be able to determine one way or another. If such a power actually exists, it must, by its very nature, be so far outside our experience and knowledge as to be incomprehensible. Any attempt to define such a power must inevitably diminish any reality it might possess. So, I take the only sane and reasonable attitude possible: I can’t know, which is why I style myself agnostic.

I’d like to say, ‘religious considerations aside’ and give examples of my argument on that basis but, unfortunately, the world in which we live is so deeply imbued in religious foundation that it’s impossible to escape its influence.  

But I will set a challenge.

Can anyone, without citing religious concepts, please provide more examples of people actually getting what they deserve than those who most clearly do not deserve what they get? I’m open-minded enough to be converted to a different view, if I can be given evidence that ‘just deserts’ is something more than a meaningless lie disguised as truth by those with vested interest in maintaining the status quo. Go ahead; change my mind.

World War D, by Jeffrey Dhywood, Reviewed

Voters are frequently disempowered by the very people they elect as their representatives. Rarely has there been such a gaping void between public opinion and political will, however, as there is on the question of drugs. Whilst the vast majority of the public recognised long ago that prohibition of drugs, like the experiment with prohibition of alcohol decades ago, doesn’t work, the politicians have dithered and dodged the question, failing to take effective action, whilst spending billions on ineffective policing.

Jeffrey Dhywood’s excellent book, World War D, explains the history of the drug problem, examines the political action and inaction, exposes the colossal hypocrisy surrounding the issue and suggests ways the world might move forward in an effort to defeat a problem that is largely the result of lunatic legislation.

Those who were unaware will learn how drugs, once a legal component of everyday medicines and other stimulants, were demonised and became the cause of criminalisation of huge numbers of otherwise normal citizens all over the world. They’ll learn the hypocrisy of figures such as Newt Gingrich, a user who believes it wasn’t immoral (though it was illegal) for him to indulge but who now believes current users act in an immoral way by taking the same substances. It’s probably common knowledge by now that alcohol is a far more dangerous substance than most drugs within society and, of course, we’re all familiar with the role of tobacco and the tobacco industry in causing major damage to the general health of the world. What is not, perhaps, generally understood is that drugs themselves are relatively harmless in most cases and it’s the criminalisation of drug users that is the source of most problems.

It has long been known that governments have used drugs as a way of undermining other governments: our own UK government almost destroyed China with the Opium Wars, and the CIA is documented as having destabilised many small regimes by its use of drug smuggling. The most vocal opponent of the removal of criminalisation of drugs is the USA, even though many of its former presidents now actively, or in some cases, secretly, consider that decriminalisation is the only answer. One has to wonder what it is that governments feel they have to fear by taking control of this huge market.

Currently, many criminal gangs and terrorist organisations, including the appalling Taliban, exist on money they obtain from the black market in drugs. The war has long been lost. All that continued criminalisation does is to ensure that criminals dealing in prostitution, child sex slavery, illegal immigration, pornography, extortion and indiscriminate violence against populations the world over continues and, indeed, expands.

I am not, and never have been, a user of drugs. I prefer to be in control of my own mind. But I do drink, of course. It’s socially acceptable, isn’t it? Perhaps that’s something worth considering.

Jeffrey Dhywood has done his research. The evidence he presents has been meticulously recorded and he provides links and acknowledgements of his many sources. This book is the result of a combination of careful scholarship with a passion to see injustices removed and the world improved.

After reading this book, you will hopefully be convinced of the destructive inanity and hopeless failure of the War on Drugs. My hope is that everyone will read this book and take action. For those who don’t read it, but wish to know more, and maybe even consider taking action, please refer to the notes below.

LEAP (Law Enforcement Against Prohibition – http://www.leap.cc/) needs your support. They’ve been fighting in the trenches for years or even decades, and they need your help.

There are also various initiatives circulating over the Internet, mostly as petitions. Join them, sign them, support them, and help their diffusion by sharing them via email or the social networks.

Jeffrey and his group are launching an ambitious initiative that you can check on their website - www.worldwar-d.com.

To buy from Amazon UK (Kindle)

 Tobuy from Amazon.com  (paperback )

Related articles

• Is Drug Prohibition a Form of Mind Control?
• Should drugs be legalised in the UK?
• Drugs: Without the Hot Air, now in the USA!
• Is this something ALL politicians could finally agree on? De-criminalising drugs WORKS.

The Great God Brown, by Eugene O’Neill, Reviewed

What to say about this piece of classic American literature? The play is presented in six stages; a prologue, four acts, and an epilogue. 

First impressions are that this should have been devised as a film, not a stage play, had that medium been capable at the time. Many of the stage directions (and these are multitude and detailed) would produce results invisible to all but the first few rows in the audience. And some are so specific and precise as to defy execution. It’s as if O’Neill has forgotten that theatre is a collaborative medium relying as much on director and actors as on the text from which the action is driven. I recall, in my early days of writing for radio, being advised that stage directions should be kept to a minimum, the nature of the delivery being evident from the words used in the dialogue.

Parts of the play come over like the tortured polemic of the inebriate, which the drunk generally mistakes for truth. Given that large portions deal with a drunken Dion, this struck me as ironic.

But, the play has a great deal to say and, in spite of its overambitious and sometimes pretentious presentation, it manages to say much of it very well. Written during the great depression, and strongly affected by the religious hypocrisy that remains a pervasive influence over huge swathes of the USA, it deals with the conflict between creativity and money-making. That it is also a love story is what mostly redeems it for me.

The use of masks to illustrate the difference between what is said and what is meant by the various characters is probably very effective on stage, for those at the front of the audience at any rate. I suspect that the subtle changes would be invisible to those paying less for their seats, which is again ironic, given that the play has a good deal to say about the uneven spread of wealth.

I can’t say that I enjoyed reading this text. But I was compelled to read it to the end. I cared about the outcome and was interested in the characters. Ultimately, however, it was a play that left me unsatisfied and, to some extent, confused. I don’t expect it to live in my mind for long and I doubt I’d bother to go to a performance at a theatre. I might be tempted to watch it as a television production, hoping, in that medium, to experience the minutiae that might otherwise be missed on stage.

As a piece of American culture, it exposed, to me, the national obsessions with money, ambition and religious guilt, as well as the inability of some men to separate lust from love. Dion, as the tortured artist came across as more selfish than passionate and Billy, as the face of business, portrayed the greed and self-interest that many find distasteful about the culture of the country. But the players are complex and very human, displaying the characteristics of a society still searching for its identity under the weight of imposed dogmatic religion and the worship of money.

As ever, this is my personal response to a piece of writing. I’ve made no excursions into the multitude of critiques and literary analyses that must have been written on this play. This review is the result of my own experience of reading the text, and probably says as much about me as it does about the work itself.