steepholm

Another Purdown walk yesterday. That place has been a real godsend during the pandemic - just 10 minutes' walk away, but so pretty: I don't know why I haven't gone there more often in the past. After a certain point it becomes Stoke Park Estate, and you can tell that you're in what used to be an eighteenth-century park, though run a little wild, and standing open to the demos in all weathers. William Kent might weep, but I rejoice.



The estate abuts Lockleaze, once a farm but for the last seventy years or so a working-class neighbourhood, full of white vans and pebble dash. The downs are to their inhabitants what Clifton Downs are to the affluent Cliftonians, but I think for once the working-class got the better deal. Recently the council has made plans to bring back a certain amount of cattle grazing, much as would have happened back in the day, and this has met resistance from locals and dog walkers. It's like The Revenge of Samuel Stokes.

The grass is a prairie of buttercups and daisies at the moment, primarily the former. I was really struck by the way they stand out more when cast in shadow than in the light.



I feel there's a 'Thought for the Day' in that observation, but so far Radio 4 haven't offered me a penny for it.

I occasionally watch Richard Osman's House of Games with my dinner. The other day they were doing a round where one contestant has to fill in clues (as best they can) to help another contestant guess a thing, person, event, etc.

In this case the answer was a person, and the clues were:

He was born in the ... century.

He is most famous for being ....

He invented ...

The contestant filled in the clues as follows:

He was born in the nineteenth century.

He is most famous for being President of the USA.

He invented the bank note?

Now, one name immediately sprang to my mind - which turned out to be correct. Perhaps the same name has occurred to you? ( Answer under cut )

What's interesting to me is that, despite all the suggested clues being wrong, it was still easy to guess. Which goes to show the degree of second-guessing we do in these situations - not just 'What's right?' but 'What kind of mistakes might this person be expected to make?' The conscious recall of a few facts is so much less impressive than the unconscious back-and-forth that traces someone else's flawed recall - at least, to me.

There's a nice John Finnemore sketch in which Pachelbel gets annoyed by people only ever wanting to hear his Canon and ignoring his more ambitious work. This is of course a common phenomenon. My brother, serious contemporary composer, is dogged by his setting of Roald Dahl's Dirty Beasts poems (initially narrated by the author himself), which has been performed and recorded far more than his other pieces. Richmal Crompton came to resent William Brown, Conan Doyle couldn't shake off Sherlock Holmes, and so on. Rather than be grateful for having had one more hit than most people, it's easy to focus on the fact that you are going to be remembered for something you don't consider your best work.

My father greatly took to a picture I drew at primary school, a portrait in pastels of six duckling chicks which had recently taking to wandering up our lawn. He framed it and hung it on the wall, perhaps as an earnest of things to come. Later, when I was a published novelist, he would still hark back to that picture in a way that clearly implied my creative output had been going downhill ever since.


You are Not to Agree with Him

So anyway, I was looking at my Academia.edu page just now, and had a similar sensation. Not everything I've put up there is for download, but of those that are the top 3 are an eclectic mix, and don't necessarily represent anything like what I'd have predicted or think of as my best:

1: 'Tolkien and Worldbuilding' - 3,920 views.

This 2013 casebook essay is far and away my most read piece. I think it's a pretty solid piece of work, but why so much more successful than the rest? I suppose it got on some reading lists.

2. ‘“You are feeling very sleepy…”: hypnosis, enchantment and mind-control in children’s fiction’ 1,435 views.

This is a surprise entry - from an article published in 2005 (and written three years earlier). It doesn't connect to any of my main research themes, but it's an original piece. I once saw it recommended on a page written by a hypnotist, which I found flattering - perhaps it's mostly hypnotists who download it?

3. ‘Experimental Girls: Feminist and Transgender Discourses in Bill’s New Frock and Marvin Redpost: Is He a Girl?’ - 530 views

This 2009 article is to date my only publication on gender stuff, and has done pretty well in download terms - I assume for the theme rather than because the world is awash with Fine or Sachar researchers.

Contrarwise, the lowest scoring piece is the only one that ever actually won an award: ‘Alan Garner’s Red Shift and the Shifting Ballad of “Tam Lin”’ was ChLA Honor Article in 2002, and is about one of the authors on whom my critical reputation rests. It has 47 views.

Go figure.

I can now acknowledge that fact that, as a child growing up in Hampshire in the 1970s, I suffered Ancient Monument Envy. Charming and historical as Hampshire was, and much as I enjoyed visiting Danebury Ring, just up the Test Valley, it didn’t seem to have as many or as famous monuments as the surrounding counties. Wiltshire, the border of which was just four miles away, won hands down of course by being home to both Stonehenge and Avebury; Dorset to the west did pretty well too with Maiden Castle and the Cerne Abbas Giant. Up in the north, Berkshire could boast (at least in the pre-1974 Local Government Reorganisation world where my imagination will always dwell) the Uffington White Horse and Wayland’s Smithy. Even Sussex, out to the east, had the Wilmington Man.

Only Surrey, far away on the north-east border, seemed no better endowed, from a prehistoric point of view. But it was hard to preen. Yes, we had Winchester, and thus Camelot, but only according to Malory - and Arthur wasn’t even pre-Roman.

Did anyone else think about things in this kind of way? Only you can tell me.

Those of us of a certain age will remember Ridley Scott's famous Hovis ad, which shows a flat-capped baker's boy pushing his bicycle up a steep hill to the accompaniment of a brass band playing the New World symphony, while the voice of the (now grown) boy reminisces fondly about the old days. But where is the ad set?

I've always mentally put it up north somewhere, and I'm not alone. In this article, written in 2006 to mark the ad's being chosen "the nation's favourite", the writer places it in "a northern town". And this evening, one of the pundits on Radio 4's Powers of Persuasion twice mentioned the north in general, as well as Yorkshire in particular.

I'd read somewhere that the ad was actually filmed in Shaftesbury, Dorset, but I never wavered from my belief that the fictional setting was the north. [EDIT: As Kalimac points out below, even the website for the hill in Shaftesbury where it was made mentions that the setting is "a northern industrial town".] After all, there's that brass band, and the voiceover is in a Yorkshire accent.

Except - it isn't. It's a West Country accent - quite possibly a Shaftesbury one. Listen for yourself:



I was only ten when the advert aired, and until they played it on the radio for the documentary this evening, I hadn't seen or heard it for years. Somehow, in the interim I grafted a northern accent onto my memory of it. That's a little odd, but what's more extraordinary is that the entire nation seems to have done the same thing. Even tonight, experts on the advert were talking about its northern setting, despite just having heard it.

Why? Is it the flat cap? (But people wore those in the south, too!) The brass band? That must have a lot to do with it.

Perhaps too there's a sense that a certain style of working-class nostalgia belongs properly to the north of England - or even that there is no southern working class at all?

I'm used to feeling nostalgia for the 1970s, but my most recent pang, for Bruce Forsyth's Generation Game, took me unawares. Probably the programme's most iconic round was the conveyor belt of useless objects at the end, but in this case I was remembering the rounds in which contestants were set to perform some practical manual task (folding a shirt, decorating a cake) in a given time. The proper way to do it was generally demonstrated first by a professional - sometimes a craftsperson, but often a factory worker, often a woman, whose job was to perform that same fiddly task a thousand times a day. The same professional was then invited to score the contestants' efforts.

It occurs to me now that this kind of round brought together two things largely lost today, at any rate in the UK:

a) It framed working-class people - specifically manual workers - as competent and discerning experts, and deferred to their judgement. Today, they are generally subject to what we might call the bourgeois gaze, whether hostile, condescending or romanticised. Not that those weren't also possible perspectives in the 1970s, but they were counterbalanced in a way we seldom see today.

b) It showcased manufacturing industry, at a time when that accounted for a much larger percentage of the economy. Part of the difference is of course technological: fiddly tasks are done by computers. But if I try to imagine a Generation Game or even a What's My Line? today, almost everyone is either working in an Amazon warehouse or sitting at their computer ordering things from Amazon, neither of which makes for great charades.

Necessary caveat: there are of course still skilled jobs in manual labour; but when did you last see a factory worker demonstrate their craft on prime-time, Saturday-night television?

In the early 1940s they drowned the village of Derwent in Derbyshire to make the Ladybower reservoir, to slake the thirsts of Sheffield and Nottingham. Shortly afterwards, the new reservoir was used by the "Dam Buster" squadron, as practice for destroying the Möhne, Edersee and Sorpe Dams.

This year the dry weather revealed part of the village again, and it drew tourists, some of whom amused themselves by drawing graffiti or taking stones from walls. This has caused quite a lot of angst. For example:

There's a fair amount of graffiti and defacement on the ruins. It's a huge part of our history and now "Cheryl" and "Steve" have scratched their names in the rock. We need to look after it, we have a responsibility like you would at any historical site. (Steve Rowe, Edale Mountain Rescue Team)

Whilst we understand that people are fascinated by the appearance of these usually hidden ruins, the structures remain an iconic archaeological feature of the Peak District National Park. As we wouldn't expect people to vandalise any of the National Park's many heritage buildings or other archaeological features, the remains of the homes and other submerged buildings are no exception. We urge people to leave these features intact to open a valuable window onto history, not just today, but for future generations to enjoy. (Anna Badcock, Park Authority Cultural Heritage Manager.)

Well yes, I kind of agree, and yet it wasn't "Cheryl and Steve" who destroyed the village in the first place, nor bounced bombs on top of it shortly after. If Derwent is such a valuable part of our heritage, why is it at the bottom of a lake?

The answer is of course that it's only valuable because it was destroyed - or rather, its destruction led paradoxically to its partial preservation. We must be grateful to the large-scale municipal vandals of 1940, even as we condemn the small-scale private vandals of 2018.

Similarly, if I marched into the British Museum and took an axe to the Lindow Man I'd be arrested - but it is only thanks to the actions of the people who did the same thing 2,000 years ago that we have his body at all. We owe those people a debt, it seems, for killing him and leaving him to our mercies, tender or otherwise.

One of the main problems with trans politics is that trans people seldom or never get to frame the public discourse, which is typically presented either as an explanation of trans people (benign version) or a debate around whether trans people are deluded and/or dangerous (malign version). The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that there's room for a debate, not about trans people, but about transphobes - one that puts them under the same kind of spotlight. It's not my academic field, so I'm not the ideal person to organise it, but I'd love to see a Call for Papers something like this....

The Politics and Pathology of Transphobia

It is a common refrain of transphobes that the issues need a free and open debate, but the phenomenon of transphobia itself has received little or no academic attention. This conference attempts to amend that situation. As the conference organisers we are open to suggestions for panel sessions, but possible topics include:

Transphobic History – a Twice-told Tale
Transphobia has risen to prominence on our television screens and in books over the last generation, especially with the rise of social media – but is it really a modern phenomenon? Arguably the discourse and ideology of transphobia, and the psychopathology underlying it, have a far longer history. In this session we explore the history and heritage of transphobia, including the striking parallels between the hostile framing of homosexuality some thirty years ago (notably as a threat to children), and that of trans identities today.

Transphobia and Feminism
One of the characteristics of transphobes who also self-identify as feminists is the compulsion to speak for feminism in general, and indeed for all women and girls; yet most women (including most feminists) repudiate transphobic beliefs and assumptions. This panel looks at the complex and conflicted relationship between feminism and transphobic discourse, especially in an age of social media and “echo chamber” platforms such as Mumsnet, which allow transphobes to live in a world of constant affirmation and unchallenged reinforcement of their views.

Transphobia and the Evangelical Movement
Many transphobes present themselves as politically left-leaning, while other base their transphobia in conservative religious dogma. The common purpose of these two apparently disparate groups has sometimes evolved into active collaboration, as in organisations such as “Hands Across the Aisle.” How do these different brands of transphobe reconcile themselves to being bedfellows? Is it a marriage of convenience, or does this alliance indicate a more fundamental convergence of political and moral outlook?

Transphobic Regret
No one knows how many transphobes eventually come to regret their involvement in transphobic ideology. Much more research is needed – although major academic institutions seem unwilling to fund it. This session will look at desistance from transphobic ideology, and the social and psychological repercussions for those who dare to leave a belief and value system that has contributed so much to their sense of identity and purpose.

Science, Junk Science, and Statistics
Transphobes frequently invoke science to support their worldview, but their use of science typically resorts to inaccurate or simplistic categories, and tendentious, selective use of statistics. This session is devoted to the discussion of transphobia’s unhealthy relationship with science in general, as well as their support for clinical practices such as conversion therapy.

Transphobia as Fetish
Transphobes have created many theories to “explain” the existence of trans people, such as autogynephilia, “rapid onset gender dysphoria,” among still more fanciful aetiologies. In this session we consider the extent to which such theories are born of projection and/or paraphilic interest in the lives and genitalia of trans people – a range of pathologies we propose to gather under the general title of “Blanchardism.”

Transphobia and the Rhetoric of Victimhood
Transphobic articles and viewpoints are extremely frequent in the press, on television and radio, and other public fora. Yet one of the commonest refrains of transphobic discourse is the complaint that transphobic views are being silenced, penalised or censored, and that this is both a threat to free speech and evidence of a powerful trans cabal. In this session we explore the intersection of paranoia and projection involved in positioning transphobic discourse as victimised and silenced.

The Media and the Exploitation of Transphobia
The media have often been willing partners in the transmission and amplification of transphobic viewpoints, whether for reasons of genuine transphobia or because of the “pulling power” of transphobic tropes and rhetoric. In this session we analyse the particular forms of transphobia employed by the media in facilitating moral panic about trans people.

"S. adored her old teacher," my friend told me of her 8-year-old daughter over lunch, "because she was a gymnastics coach, and S. loves gymnastics, so they got on really well. But she doesn't like her new teacher. She's into cats, and S. is cross because she has a cat allergy."

She found this attitude (amusingly) unreasonable in her daughter, and at first I was inclined to agree. But then I thought, what if she had a peanut allergy and her new teacher insisted on putting pictures of peanuts up round the classroom, dividing the classes into "Reese's" and "Sunpat", and generally singing the praises of peanuts in their manifold incarnations? That would seem more unreasonable on the teacher's part than the child's, wouldn't it? In fact, one might be tempted to contact the school for a Word.

What is the difference between the two cases? Is it just that I find cats cute myself, and peanuts not so much? Or more generally that cat lovers enjoy a recognised cultural niche, while peanut enthusiasts labour under the stigma of singularity? (But if so, shouldn't they be encouraged to express themselves, by way of showing the children that you don't have to be ashamed?) Or is it simply the contrast in seriousness between anaphylactic shock and a bit of a rash? (That said, I've known people whose social lives were seriously compromised by cat allergies.)

It may not be the most important debate of our times, but it's been bobbing around my brain ever since, so I put it here, under my ever-faithful "maunderings" tag.

As a teenager, I used to read a lot of G. K. Chesterton and George Bernard Shaw. They were sparring partners and friendly rivals; one Catholic with a fondness for beef and beer, the other an atheist vegetarian teetotaller. Both had a talent for controversy and paradox, and healthy egos to match, and I liked them both, while sharing the opinions of neither (though I preferred GKC).

Like any pair of duellists, Chesterton and Shaw had their seconds (at least in my head), in the form of Hilaire Belloc and H. G. Wells, whom I also read, but not so avidly. In my imagination, this foursome spent the first few decades of the last century as gung-ho, pamphleteering frenemies, warring and intimate in turns. I liked to think of them penning essays and manifestos by day, and enjoying a pint (or a soda water with lemon) together by night. I don't know if it was really like that, and I don't want to know.

Anyway, I just want to record my pleasure at finding this slim volume on sale for 20p at the local Amnesty shop:



Watching people argue with such passion, and such a vivid sense of amour propre, about controversies now almost entirely irrelevant, is a strangely luxurious feeling for me, whether it be here or in the pamphlet battles of earlier ages (Thomas Nashe and Gabriel Harvey are another favourite pairing). Perhaps future historians of social media will get a similar buzz when they come to review the story of gamergate, or whatever.

Why do these things give me pleasure? It's not an Olympian "what fools these mortals be!" disdain - not at all; more a reassurance that my own furious passions, too, will eventually be chaff, and that therefore I really needn't worry so much.

Even futility is a half-full cup.