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selenak: (Brian 1963 by Naraht)
It's been years since I read my last Beatles related book, but Get Back last November evidently meant that bookstores now place more recent publications where passers by like yours truly can spot them, and thus I ended up with Craig Brown's One, Two, Three, Four: The Beatles in Time, which I think is best described as an entertaining collection of vignettes dealing not just with the Beatles but various people flitting in and out of their lives, with fandom, with hatedom, and with (some) biography. How it would feel to someone new to Beatles lore, I couldn't say. Occasionally, when recognizing from which previous biography or even interview some quotes hail from, I thought, good lord, I know way too much about these people. Otoh, there were some stories I hadn't come across before, or had not connected to the Beatles, like "the Singing Nun", Sister Luc-Gabrielle, aka Jeannine Deckers, who had appeared on the same Ed Sullivan show the Beatles made their American debut on. (Not a story with a happy ending, that one. But remarkable.)

Nitpicks first: Craig Brown can tell a story, and most of the chapters I enjoyed reading, regardless as to whether there was new content or not. Unfortunately, the exceptions to this rule happen relatively early in the book, though not to a degree that they stopped me from reading further. But they did irritate me. As I said, this is also a book about fandom, and two chapters have Brown himself taking the tour in Liverpool that includes the childhood homes of John and Paul. The description of the somewhat self important (in his telling) guides with their insistence that the stuff they rattle off to 130 000 visitors a year is "confidential, private information" that must not be recorded comes across as somewhat snooty, but it's nowhere as irrating as the "Brown takes a tour in Hamburg" chapter where he decides to write the dialogue of every German he meets phonetically, in "accent". I hate it when writers do that - not just when it's supposed to be a German accent, it's just as annoying when it's supposed to be a French one, a Scottish one, for for that matter Scouse - because it makes comprehending what each word is supposed to mean really hard for me, no matter how fluent I am in English. Also, I just don't think it's funny, which evidently it's meant to be.

(I should add here that later chapters, where he's letting various female fans talk, come across very differently - with affection for the women, who do most of the talking and looking back, and when they make a bit fun of their younger selves, it's a case of "laughing with", not "laughing about". But the Mendips, Forthlin Road and Hamburg tour chapters really annoyed me.)

On to the praise: Craig Brown often hits on hilarious, eminently quotable tales, and not just when he's quoting the Beatles themselves in full snarky, goofy glory. As I said, he also devotes some chapters to dedicated haters of the Fab Four, and none was more so than Anthony Burgess (yes, A Clockwork Orange Burgess), who wasn't just seething throughout the 60s but was still ready to fire off Beatles-loathing sallies decades after the band was no more, which tells you a lot about Burgess. (And yes, the over the topness of his hatred does make it funny.) Stories like the one about Ms Deckers which end unhappily are written with a matter of fact compassion, while he comes across as pretty even handed in his depiction (and selection of quotes by and on) such vivid yet controversial characters as John's aunt Mimi. (Opinions on Mimi vary from "Stern yet loving" to "vicious control freak from hell", with the later two voiced memorably by both Julia Baird - John Lennon's younger sister - and Cynthia Lennon (John's first wife).) He's also pretty good in showing how inevitably skewered everyone's memories inevitably are - as with the "Beatles meet Elvis" encounter which everyone involved later described somewhat differently from each other, or the "John beat up Bob Wooler at Paul's birthday party" tale, where the description of the reason for the violence and the extension of the injuries greatly varies not just with the describer, but also with the times (i.e. John Lennon himself gave various different descriptions of this incident to different people over the years) , with the biographers, depending on their own agenda, often adding to it (so unsurprisingly the version where it's a miracle Wooler survived is the one in Albert Goldman's biography).

Interestingly, Brown entirely avoids the question most people writing books about the Beatles get asked - "who's your favourite Beatle?" - but instead answers one for himself which I haven't seen asked before in fandom, to wit, if you could be any Beatle at any point in their lives, which one and when would you want to be? (Craig Brown would like to be Paul during his years of living with the Asher family at Wimpole Street ("living with Jane, cossetted by her family, blessed by luck, happy with life, alive to culture, adored by the world, and with wonderfull songs flowing as if my magic from my brain and out through the piano: I want to hold your hand, I'm looking through you, The Things we said today, And I love her, We can work it out, Here, there and everwhere, Yesterday") (Put like that, I can see his point.) Generally speaking Brown keeps a good balance between the four in the stories he chooses to tell - there are far more George anecdotes, for example, than in anything penned by Philip Norman - except in the last section, ca. 1968-1970, which is very Lennon centric, but very much not in a Philip Norman way. Chapter 140, which tells the tale of John and Yoko's encounter with Gloria Emerson (transmitted by the BBC), utterly skewers the former two simply by using their own words. It does some across as perhaps the most cringe worthy John and Yoko event ever, as they proceed to lecture Emerson, who had been a foreign correspondent in Saigon, was by no means a pro establishment figure and would return to Saigon to cover such subjects as the false American body count, the use of hard drugs by G.I.s and the effect the war has on the Vietnamese civilian population, on Vietnam and the effectiveness of their peace protests, and listen not to a single thing Emerson had to say. And the conclusion of that chapter is absolutely lethal. The most Yoko hating rant by a 1960s fan does not compare with ths effective dagger-by-quote without any bashing at all:

Years later (Gloria Emerson) said that, by the end of her time there, she had lost count of the number of young American soldiers she had comforted in their final moments.
Nineteen years later, in the December 1988 issue of Q magazine, Yoko spoke to the journalist Tom Hibbert about the legacy of the bed-ins, in which she and John had stayed in bed 'for peace'.
HIBBERT: Are those bed-ins something you look back on with pride?
YOKO: Oh yes. Pride and great joy. Those things we did were blessings. At the time we were doing it peopole used to sort of laugh at us - we were hoping that they would laugh with us but it didn't work out that way. But in the end, you see, it did have an effect. Last year when Reagan and Gorbachev had their summit and shook hands, I sort of felt, well, John and I did have an effect.


End of chapter. He's made his point.

On the joyful side of things, he's also really good at getting across the excitement of the concerts, the reason why those early press interviews with the Beatles felt so refreshing, witty and new, and the marvel of the ever changing music. (And is not above making fun of himself; teen him way very unimpressed by the Abbey Road cover, considering it a let down compared to previous covers, and had no idea it would be the most recognizable, most imitated and parodied Beatles album cover of them all.) And he finds some unexpected angles that do manage to paint a portrait of an era and a place through a single chapter, as in the one that compares and contrasts the 1963 - 1969 Christmas messages from the Queen to the ones recorded by the Beatles for their fan club. The framing Brown chooses to open and finish his book with also is new - well, not the opening, but the ending to correspond with it. The first chapter describes record store owner Brian Epstein using his lunch break to visit, with his employee Alistair Taylor in tow, the Cavern, where he sees the Beatles for the first time. The last chapter starts with the aftermath of Brian Epstein's funeral in 1967, and then goes back in time through Brian's life, each section earlier than the previous one, ending on that moment of the opening chapter where he tries to verbalize for the first time the impact the Beatles have had on him to Taylor. Brian Epstein is of course present in many a chapter other than these two, but by placing him in this way Brown doesn't just underscore his importance to the saga but also in a way makes him the pov. Which, given that moment in one of the Beatles concert movies where Brian says that everything the fans felt for them, he's felt for them - and there you have the key difference between Brian Epstein and, say, Elvis' manager Colonel Parker, to say nothing of Allen Klein - , strikes me as an inspired choice.
selenak: (Brian 1963 by Naraht)
Day Two at the Frankfurt Book Fair was the day of the memoirs; among others, those of Malala which were published simultanously in a couple of languages. Now since she's nominated for the Nobel Peace Award, her German publisher, while not considering it likely she wins, still is fretting because she's currently doing book signings in the US, and IF she gets the Nobel, the news will reach her... in Washington, DC. Which, quoth the publisher, considering that the girl is already the target of conspiracy theories (she never was shot! she's a CIA stooge! etc.) will make it even worse. When on Friday later morning it turned out Malala HADN'T won, he was half glum, half relieved about it.

Meanwhile, Fischer who publishes Alice Munro in German is mightily pleased. So are her own publishers of course; I had a quick glimpse at hall 8, which is where the English-speaking publishers are camping out, though what I have to admit I browsed through most was the comic book/graphic novel "The Fifth Beatle", about Brian Epstein. In which the author goes for a poetic approach, and so does his artist; when Brian meets Elvis' manager, Colonel Parker, on that one and only occasion the Beatles met Elvis, Parker is drawn with demonic red eyes, no less. You know, the cliché of the Bad Manager, controlling and exploiting his artist and the counterpart to Brian's Good Manager (giving all for his artists and loving them). Which I would ridicule, except, um, according to all we can now, it was true? Still think the red eyes are a bit over the top.

Also red: the hair of the girl who is Brian's Head!Six, named "Moxie", symbolizing his ambition and giving him someone to share his thoughts and doubts with, conveniently allowing the reader to do the same. Why Brian has a Head!Moxie is unclear to me but then I only browsed through the pages and maybe a thorough reading will reveal all. (I hasten to add Head!Moxie doesn't mean Brian's homosexuality is ignored or changed, absolutely not. I dare say, though, you could have had Brian monologuing or dialoguieng with, say, several of his pals like Nate Weiss or employes/friends/occasional lovers like Peter Brown and get the exposition across that way.) The comics' stand on the "did they or didn't they?" Barcelona question: there was UST but no they didn't, because John chickened out after first getting Brian to admit he was interested.

The Beatles in general, when they show up (which they don't do too often; as it should be, the focus is on Brian's story) talk in A-Hard-Day's-Night-ese, which, fair enough. (Except for John's solo scenes with Brian; he then talks in quotes from the 1980 Playboy Interview.) Since the comic goes for magical realism, we get a dreaming-into-his-death Brian having goodbye type vonversations which culminate in him having one with ghostly Paul on the note of "it's on your shoulders now, we both know John can't be arsed to work if one doesn't drive him, pray keep the group together, you have the savvy, the work ethics and the drive, but I know I'm also dooming your friendships with that, sorry", which I found somewhere between touching and wistfully amusing, considering one of John's often voiced complaints in ye days of musical feuding was that "Paul behaved as if Brian had died with the worlds "let's make a new album, boys" on his lips". So the author actually letting Brian die with, etc, is among other things black humour and reconcilatory gesture.

Art: Brian, alas, is rarely recognisable on first browsing, and none of the women are (Cynthia Lennon looks like Generic Comic Book Blonde, for example), but on the other hand if you don't look for actual similarities the art goes well with the storymood. (For example, for the whole Manila episode, when things went truly insane, one of the most nightmarish experiences for Brian Epstein and a pretty bad one for the Beatles, it gets more and more abstract and cartoonish to go with Brian's state of mind.) And there are some neat nods to things that don't play a role in this particular story but were long term wise important; at the Sgt. Pepper launching party in Brian's house, there is only one female photographer, blonde. (As indeed there was. This was Linda Eastman, the future Mrs. McCartney.) She isn't adressed by name but I thought it showed both writer and artist did their research.

Non comic books which caught my eye and which I want to read at my leisure outside of the hectic book fair atmosphere: "The Golem and the Djinn" by Helene Weckman and "Abschied von Sansibar", "Farewell to Sansibar" by Lukas Hartmann. I had "met" one of the later's historical main characters as a minor character in a novel by M.M. Kaye many years before, "Trade Winds", so I was aware she had really lived: Salmé bint Said aka Emily Ruete, daughter of the Sultan of Sansibar who'd run away with a Hamburg merchant and married him. That much I knew, but not what had become of Salmé/Emily afterwards and her and her children's story is what this novel tells. She had three children (four actually, the first one died as a baby), and then lost her husband, which meant she was stuck in strange Germany with three children to bring up and an absolutely unforgiving brother on the throne back home in Sansibar who did not want to reconcile, let alone support her. Bismarck used the threat of making her son Sultan as part of his strategy to get a treaty out of her brother that would allow Germany to annex Sansibar after said brother's death, then once that was accomplished dropped her like a hot potato. She ended up living in Beirut for a while (which, as the author said at the book fair presentation, is in the exact geographich middle between Hamburg and Sansibar), but was not allowed to see her home again. Her half Arab, half German children, two daughters and a son, had remarkable fates as well. One married a hardcore Nazi, one, the son, a Jewish merchant's daughter which was why he emigrated. He'd gone from officer to pacifist in WWI already, and then took up the already Don Quichotte like cause of mediating between Zionists and Arabs in Palestine. The novel isn't chronological - we start with the son near his death and only near the end get the story of how young Salmé fell in love with her German in the first place - and going by my hasty browsing well written. There are excerpts interspersed from a letter the real Salmé/Emily wrote to her brother Bargash, the Sultan of Sansibar, in vain pleading with him. According to Mr. Hartman, Salmé in addition to writing her memoirs (which were a bestseller and how she supported herself & the kids for a while", "Memoirs of an Arabian Princess") also wrote letters to herself which were not meant for publication, and in which she voiced the depression and despair she kept out of her memoirs, but also the full story of why and how she left Sansibar, which only gets five or so lines in the memoirs (the later focus on her older siblings and family history instead). It all read and sounded truly intriguing, and I will check it out.

Not all authors are gifted speakers, mind. Rüdiger Safranski, who already gave us a book about Goethe and Schiller and a Schiller biography, has now delivered a highly readable Goethe biography, about which he talked with Goethe expert Gustav Seibt, but alas his voice is still... not the most fortunate to have for such an occasion. However, he still has a nice sense of huimour: when asked about Goethe's changeability, he quoted the man himself who said when accused "but Herr Geheimrat, last year you expressed a completely different point of view", in a nonchalant reply: "One doesn't get 80 by constantly thinking the same things". Mr. Seibt, who always writes the Goethe articles for the Süddeutsche Zeitung, brought up the fact that for all the long life and no drama attitude, Goethe drank a lot - by today's standards, enough to call him an alcoholic (two litres per day), and yet there aren't any accounts of him trodding about drunk. Whereupon Rüdiger Safranski couldn't resist pointing out that Goethe drank the most during his years of friendship with Schiller, hence also the weight gain during said years (that made them look like like Stan and Ollie when walking around), and that good old G. lost that weight again (by dialing back the two litres per day?) after Schiller's death. Sadly, Mr. Seibt didn't ask him about the context of boozing it up and having a rival-turned-best-friend hanging around.

Speaking of boozing it up: the evening receptions at the Frankfurt Book Fair often last until the early morning hours. Now yours truly isn't a night owl, but this is the one time in the year where I really don't get rmuch sleep. Otoh one hears all the literary gossip at those parties, including the one about the lamentable soap opera which is the story of the once famous Suhrkamp Verlag (currently involved in declarations of insolvency, a bitter power struggle between the shareholders and 120 authors threatening to leave it). Sadly, said gossip was told confidentally, and thus I can't share. Right now, I'm off to another evening reception, and hope to return with more shareable news.
selenak: (Brian 1963 by Naraht)
As to matters non James Bond.

1.) So the Mouse bought Lucas Films and is going to make post Jedi Star Wars films. See, I'm a part of the minority who a) liked the prequels, b) doesn't hate George Lucas, and c) isn't actually interested in the story post Return of the Jedi, so emotionally, this doesn't mean anything to me. The reason why I'm not interested, btw, isn't lack of character sympathy, it's just that I thought the story of Luke, Leia and Han was carried to a good wrap up point, leaving the audience with a sense of completion on the one hand and on other other confident there are further adventures and life waiting for Our Heroes. I never felt I needed more than that for these three. Obviously not many other people felt this way, hence zillions of sold EU books (which btw look as if they're about to get decanonized, I take it?), and I'm sure the new film(s) will sell well, be loved and hated by many because such is the nature of fandom, and who knows, if I hear enough intriguing reports I might get interested. (Or not, if Trusted Sources deem them dull.) But basically what I wanted from the Star Wars franchise after having finished Return of the Jedi was the backstory, Anakin's story, and I got it years ago, so I'm content either way.

Now, if we're talking about which Disney aquisition really troubles me, then it's still the discovery I made a few years ago, decades after the fact, that Disney took a children's novel from my beloved Erich Kästner called Das doppelte Lottchen, americanized it (which included making a single mom/Munich career journalist into a Boston socialite), called it The Parent Trap and now millions of people think that form is the original of the story. See, Star Wars never was the big deal to me and my childhood/adolescence it was for others, though I'm exactly the right age. But Kästner was and is! Das doppelte Lottchen isn't even my favourite Kästner novel, but ERICH KÄSTNER IS SACRED and Disney retrospectively ruined my childhood, omg.

(Kidding, because I never can resist taking a cheap shot at the "George Lucas ruined my childhood by the Special Editions/Prequels/whatever" crowd, sorry.)

(Though I do love Erich Kästner and his novels, and discovering The Parent Trap's existence may have made me mutter "Yankee Cultural Imperialism Be Dammed" once or twice.)


2.) There will finally be a Brian Epstein biopic, and it will starr Benedict Cumberbatch. Good lord, as Giles would say. I'm not as enthralled by Mr. Cumberbatch as many an audience member, but there's no doubt he's an excellent actor, he has a good track record in choosing projects which gives me some confidence the script will be decent (i.e. not made-for-Lifetime tv bio pic style superficial), and a Brian biopic has the advantage that the scriptwriters don't have to feel encumbered by having some of their main characters still being alive (or their main characters' widows) which Beatles pio pics do, not to mention that it has a clear story with an actual ending. A sad ending, though, which means the scriptwriters will have to fight temptation to make this into a version of The Tragic Homosexual. Hopefully we'll see more of Brian than him popping pills, getting beat up by rough trade and pining after John - i.e. the drive and energy that made him succeed in the first place, the charm and charisma testified by virtually everyone who knew him.

On a more irreverent note, given that the casting of Cumberbatch-as-Smaug already singlehandedly created the pairing of Bilbo/Smaug before The Hobbit ever graced the screen, I wonder whether Cumberbatch-as-Brian Epstein will create a lot of time travelling fanfics in which BBC John Watson ends up in the 60s, gets paired with Brian and is at hand to save him from the fatal overdose. Though two people less alike than BBC!Sherlock and Brian Epstein I can't imagine, and BBC!John doesn't strike me as Brian's type at all, but there you go. (Additional possible casting in joke in fanfiction: Andrew Scott aka Jim Moriarty, who played Paul McCartney in all of the five seconds he pops up in Lennon Naked.)
selenak: (Bardolatry by Cheesygirl)
One good think Roland Emmerich did: his Anonymous produces the best collection of snarky reviews on an academic subject in a long while. Also it confirms that non-genre fans behave just like everyone else in a flame war. One tearing-into-shreds of the Oxfordian extravaganza provoked the scriptwriter to appear - you can read it all here - and to be yet another example of why the author should never, ever, get into internet arguments with people reviewing his work. It's all "why are you so mean?" and "you didn't do this to Tom Stoppard when he wrote Shakespeare in Love, did you?!?". (Whereupon both the reviewer and a lot of posters pointed out that that no one involved in the production of Shakespeare in Love includcing Tom Stoppard ever claimed this was THE HISTORICAL TRUTH OMG but emphasized it was playful fiction. WHereas Roland Emmerich is currently making me cringe due to our shared nationality by declaring no English director would have been courageous enough to film the truth about how only the noble Oxford and not the hack from Stratford could have written Shakespeare. Stick with Godzilla, for God's sake, Roland, stick with Godzilla. Every time you tackle history it's just that special extra cringeworthy. (See also: The Patriot, starring only free black workers in pre-Independence South Carolina happily employed by our hero, and a scene directly ripped off from Hitlerjunge Quex for the grand climax.) Anyway, if you hand out packages to schools claiming a film that gives Elizabeth I. three illegitimate bastards and manages to misdate every single Shakespeare play is of educational value, you have only yourself to blame if you get flamed as a result.


****

On another note, recently I came across this pretty photo:

http://chainedandperfumed.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/epstein.jpg?w=500&h=362

Subtitled: The Beatles’ style council: Brian Epstein and Astrid Kirchherr. Which is funny because it's true. Astrid gave them the hair cut (well, half of them) and the black leather, plus she taught them to pose for photographers, and Brian gave them the suits, the bows, and of course the record contract. But I'd never seen a photo of the two of them together, and they look pretty smashing, I must say.
selenak: (AmandaRebecca by Kathyh)
On a note of "some scenes from very old quiz shows can be oddly compelling", two clips from What's My Line, starring Elizabeth Taylor and Brian Epstein (= manager of the Beatles, non-Beatle-people *g*) as the people whose identies have to be guessed by the panelists. Both entertaining, though for different reasons. The Elizabeth Taylor bit is funny and adorable, and demonstrates that a) Elizabeth Taylor can do a great disguise voice and b) must have a superb sense of humour (about herself as much as anything else). After watching the clip I was wondering why she didn't do more comedies. She also looks gorgeous, at the height of her youthful beauty, and quizmaster/moderator Daly after the reveal is visibly starstruck.




Brian Epstein, otoh, also looks very handsome indeed (did anyone ever some "best looking managers of pop stars" statistics? Brian must have been high up if so), but hardly gets to speak. Daly is incredibly condescending after the reveal, calling him "Barry" Epstein, looks up "Epstein" every time he addresses him, and one of the panelists (male) even asks a somewhat hostile question re: Brian's clients. (Otoh, another panelist (female) counters this by declaring her love.) (Also, there is bonus Paul Anka, looking very young and answering to the question whether Brian manages him with a funny "I wish" gesture.) It's a 1964 clip, must have been during that first American tour, and shows something of the initial hostility from the middle-aged establishment towards what they regarded as the latest teenage fad:

selenak: (Beatles by Alexis3)
In the spirit of plus ca change, I offer a YouTube clip which contains the highlight of the Beatles' 1965 Shea Stadium concert as well as short interviews with fans. At one point, the reporter switches from the interviewing the fangirls to a fanboy and asks him: "Isn't this whole Beatles thing very silly and strictly for girls?" "No," quoth the fanboy, who immediately became my favourite fan in the entire Shea Stadium, "because they're great musicians and fantastic song writers." Also shown: Brian Epstein, strong contender for the "most devoted and tragic manager in pop history" award. (Most managers being more on the exploitative side. Urban legend has it that Brian during that concert went among the fans anonymously so he could have that experience and scream and yell with the best of them. Could be just an anecdote, but it’s a plausible one. If, oh reader, you’re not yet familiar with who Brian Epstein was, check out this article and this interview with Derek Taylor about Brian. Derek Taylor was the Beatles’ press guy, ghost wrote Brian’s autobiography and later had to deal with the avalanche of people wanting a piece of Apple after the Beatles naively if idealistically declared they wanted to finance other artists. (Derek Taylor anecdote: “It’s Adolf Hitler downstairs, Derek.” “Not that bastard again.”)

The concert at Shea Stadium was a turning point in several ways. It was, famously, the first time a band played in a major stadium, and set records for sold tickets. It also was the high point of Beatlemania, and exactly the point where the Beatles themselves, who at first were awed and exhilarated when they saw the stadium – they knew this was it, Brian’s claim they’d be bigger than Elvis fulfilled – started to lose their joy in touring. The screams had finally reached a level where they couldn’t hear themselves on stage anymore. (You do hear them in the clips, though, courtesy of the recording equipment.) It was also where the crowd frenzy turned scary, if not yet for the Beatles who through the performance were still on a success high (it was only in the aftermath that reflections on the not-hearing-themselves set in), then for some of the attendants. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards were watching from a seat beind the first-base dugout and were pretty shaken by the experience. Original Mick Jagger quote: "It's frightening." (Pity the just-for-girls reporter didn't interview him as well.)



In 2008 Shea Stadium was torn down; before that, there were farewell concerts, concluding with two by Billy Joel, and at the very end, there was a surprise appearance by Paul McCartney (in the middle of his own tour elsewhere but dropping by for the occasion), who sang I Saw Her Standing There with Joel, and then, quite fittingly, Let It Be. The crowd was louder again, but this time, they were singing as well.

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