At the bottom of the left-hand column are books I recommend. They are set up as referral links to Amazon (UK). I’m not seriously expecting a useful revenue stream from this, it’s just a way to liven up the appearance of the site. The plan is to occasionally add a new title, and as books get bumped off the bottom of the page, I’ll move them to a page that will act act as an archive of all the old recommendations.
You’ll notice the place looks different now. I doubt whether this version will last too long – I changed it because I thought the previous look was a bit too tasteful, too pastel. But this one already feels too self-consciously wacky, and I only just did it.
This is such an obvious choice that two people had chosen it by the end of the initial item on the Today programme announcing the poll. But I would have picked it anyway. Probably.
It’s usually called The Battle of San Romano, but according to the NG website the full title is Niccol
And I’m not talking about Sam.
Since the London bombings (and their sequel, which like so many sequels, failed to live up to the promise of the original) the press has, naturally enough, turned to the question ‘why did those nice British boys try to kill me?’ Or, to phrase it in a more objective sounding way, ‘why do young British Muslims feel so disaffected from British society?’
One answer given is that they see Britain (or The West) as decadent and immoral. Many journalists have been saying the same thing for years, rousing their readers to a state of righteous indignation with tales of the happy-slapping, binge-drinking, orgy-having, undisciplined, hoody-wearing Youth Of Today. I’ve thought the same thing myself – usually first thing in the morning, when reading the Style section of the Sunday Times. When faced with the shallow, trend-driven world of designer track-suits, Jude Law’s nanny,
If someone told you they had scored 55 runs in an over at Lord’s, you’d think they were some kind of delusional fantasist (via Corridor of Uncertainty). I was grinning all morning at the fact that things like this can actually happen. A bit like a 15 year old being seven under par going into the final round of the (Women’s) Open.
Since the poll is not to find the best painting in a British collection, but the best-loved, I thought I’d mention the first favourite painting I remember having.
It’s the choice of a young boy – Whaam! by Roy Lichtenstein. It used to hang prominently in the old Tate (i.e. what’s now Tate Britain), before they split off the modern collection into a separate building. Somehow I don’t think my appreciation for it had anything to do with the semiotic interplay between pop culture and ‘Fine Art’. I just thought it was cool.
The text in the thought bubble is a bit hard to read at this scale, but I can still remember it by heart: “I pressed the fire control and ahead of me the rockets blazed through the sky”.
