Comedy, Tragedy, and Radio 3.

I will be blithering about comedy this weekend, as part of BBC 3's Free Thinking Festival, if that’s the kind of thing that scratches your scrotum or tickles your cervix. There's lots of good stuff in the festival, but my event will be a gory battle to the death between Tragedy and Comedy, that will take place live in The Sage, Gateshead (near Newcastle), and be broadcast on BBC 3's Nightwaves some time later (not sure when). Wearing the black hat and jackboots of tragedy, Professor of English Carol Rutter and comedian and classicist Natalie Haynes. Wearing the white hat and extremely long floppy shoes of comedy, passionate comedian Janey Godley and me. It's ticketed, but free.

  

More details on that, including how to get free tickets, here.

 

The problem of comedy has certainly furrowed my mighty brow this month. “Reality Is A Bananaskin On Which We Must Step” addresses that very subject, in the latest issue of A Public Space. For those of you too lazy to click through to the whole thing, I’ll sum it up for you in a line:

The relationship of a rock to its mountain will never be funny, because the rock does not believe it is the centre of the universe.

 

Meanwhile, let me recommend a book, or at least 50% of a book: I am halfway through Red Plenty, by Francis Spufford, and so far it’s the most enjoyable thing I’ve read all year. A splendid novel about Soviet economics in the 1950s, it reads like the satirical science fiction of the wonderful Strugatsky brothers. (They wrote the charming Roadside Picnic, which Andrei Tarkovsky filmed, in far bleaker form, as Stalker.) But it’s all true. A superb novel of ideas, deeply researched, deeply felt, deeply enjoyable, if it stays this good to the end it will be my novel of the year… I‘ll post a final verdict when I’m done.



Why not the life?

 

I'm writing a lot lately. (More on that soon…) It's enjoyable. Tiring. But it means I'm too busy to blog the way I like to blog (in long, rambling meditations on Christ knows what). So here's someone older and wiser than me to keep you happy, or miserable. This is Jack Gilbert, from The Paris Review Interviews, Volume 1. He was 80 when he said this, back in 2005, and renting a room in a friend's house in Northampton, Massachusetts.

 

The interviewer, Sarah Fay, asked him “What, other than yourself, is the subject of your poems?”


"Those I love. Being. Living my life without being diverted into things that people so often get diverted into. Being alive is so extraordinary I don't know why people limit it to riches, pride, security–all of those things life is built on. People miss so much because they want money and comfort and pride, a house and a job to pay for the house. And they have to get a car. You can't see anything from a car. It's moving too fast. People take vacations. That's their reward–the vacation. Why not the life? Vacations are second-rate. People deprive themselves of so much of their lives–until it's too late. Though I understand that often you don't have a choice."

 

A note on the images: they are taken from the first solo exhibition in Europe of the Tokyo-based artists Exonemo, hosted in the Basel gallery [plug.in]. The piano and tape recorder are part of an installation called UN-DEAD-LINK, in which Sembo Kensuke and Yae Akaiwa from Exonemo modified the computer game Half-Life2 and connected its output to a piano upstairs (and to a sewing machine, paper-shredder, music turntable, some lamps...) Each death in the game turns on a machine. The murdered mouse is taken from the Exonemo film  DanmatsuMouse...

Great Books for Teenaged Boys: No. 2 - Why Are We In Vietnam?

OK, the great Norman Mailer, who died earlier this month: his best book, if you are a teenage boy, is Why Are We In Vietnam? (I would have put it on the list anyway, even if he hadn't just died.)

 

I had my notebook with me over the weekend (I was away from my computer), and I wrote
 so many notes on Why Are We In Vietnam? that it would take me another week to type them up and turn them into something that made sense. It was more a long essay than a blog entry.

 

But Ariel is waiting for his next book, and I can't make him wait another week. So here goes... Inna blog styleeee, fukktup, no gramma...

 

Norman Mailer wrote Why Are We In Vietnam? around the time I was still in the womb. It came out in 1967 and it was red-hot relevant to the big American dilemma: why the fuck are we in Vietnam?

 

What is it about? Well in some ways it's a shaggy dog story, or a shaggy bear story, or a shaggy war story... And that story is pretty simple: DJ and his friend, two Texan teenage boys, go on a hunting trip to Alaska with their rich fathers. They shoot animals, and they walk in the forests. DJ tells the tale in a supercharged Texas-turboblast of language.

 

But it's about what it's not about. And it's not about what it's about. 

 

The title does half the work of the book, because it changes the meaning of every sentence that follows. Vietnam is hardly mentioned. But DJ and his friend have been drafted, and are going to Vietnam after this last trip with their fathers.

 

Mailer has knowledge of war (he fought in the Pacific in World War Two): DJ has not. But DJ will soon have Mailer's knowledge and the gap between character and author, so soon to be closed, crackles with literary electricity. The knowledge wants to discharge.: DJ wants to know, and Mailer wants him to know. Soon the trees, the animals, the guns are trying to tell him... The book contains some of the best ever descriptions of animals, plants, trees and soil (of the world without man in it). And then man comes into it...

 

The book is full of sex, shit and death, and of words invoking sex shit and death even when the subject is something else. Sex shit and death are the three-in-one God of this book, and it is best to hear these words as the (almost religious) speaking-in-tongues of a possessed young man, rather than as casual and meaningless obscenities. They are not casual and they are not meaningless (though they are often obscene, if the Latin root of obscene is ob caenum, "from filth").

 

A book in which rich Americans shoot animals from helicopters is obviously about 1960s Vietnam in a fairly direct way. But that is not the most important aspect of the book.

 

This book is not a history book. This book is prophecy, and thus timeless. You could slot it into the Bible as the Book of DJ, and it would fit in fine. To give the book its original force, and to totally refresh it, just scratch or paint out the word "Vietnam" on the cover, and scrawl in the word "Iraq", if you're American or British, "Chechnya" if you're Russian, "Tibet" if you're Chinese, "Palestine" if you're Israeli, "Congo" if you're from practically any of the Democratic Republic of the Congo's neighbours, "Darfur" if you're from Sudan, "Somalia" if you're from Ethiopia...

 

No really, do it. Make a physical mark. Damage the book. Make it yours.

 

It is not a clean and tidy book. It is not a nice, easy book. It is not a post-feminist book. It is not a left-liberal book. It's not even a "good" book, in a lot of ways (though it might be a great book). It doesn't give a shit whether you like it or not. A lot of recent readers have problems with that, as they do with Norman Mailer generally. But you cannot apply health and safety legislation to a shaman. The chicken has to really die (because you're going to really die). The blood has to splatter everywhere (because your atoms, too, will be scattered, and your pattern lost). Norman Mailer's art is messy because life is messy because death is messy.

 

OK that's it. That's all I can think of right now. Over to you. 

Biggest crash in world history coming up

None of my friends want to talk to me about economics, which is frustrating. Because I think we are in for an almighty wipeout in the financial markets, which has only barely begun to get going. And that is interesting, and worth a conversation.

 

As I have posted previously, I think a lot of exotic financial products, and a lot of very exotic investment strategies done with borrowed money, are about to fail spectacularly. As a side effect, a lot of perfectly solid markets (in stocks, bonds, property, commodities) are going to be cut in half, and a lot of institutions, to their intense surprise, are going to be wiped out.

 

More specifically, I predict the implosion of a very large number of hedge funds over the next year or two (and probably a lot sooner than that). Let's be more specific: I suspect that more than 25% of the hedge funds in existence today will not exist in two years time. (Oh come Julian, don't be shy, what do you REALLY think? Well, I really think at least half of them could vanish, but I'm trying to sound conservative and thoughtful here.)

 

And I think we'll lose more than one really, really big, globally known bank, insurer, and/or pension fund.

 

We may not lose them technically: governments and central banks will probably try to coordinate a rescue. But if they survive, they'll have been artificially resuscitated after having gone under.

 

Also, a lot of junk bonds will turn out to be junk. A shedload of private equity firms will go bust, and a stack of grossly overleveraged companies will collapse before 2010.

 

And residential property prices will fall through the floor in real terms over the next couple of years in a bunch of countries, including the USA and my dear and darling Ireland. (Put a figure on it... OK, from peak to trough, a fall of over 30 % in real terms. There. The trough may well take a lot more than a couple of years, mind you, and inflation may mask the fall, but in real terms I'd be surprised if it's less than 30% in Ireland's case. America, being vast and varied, I'll call a fall of over 30% on the coasts and large urban areas, before it eventually bottoms out. Again, I'm being conservative, and secretly think it could be more.)

 

Note that I think the real-world economy is in pretty good nick right now. But the financial world, across many asset classes, is about to have the biggest crash (in dollar terms) in the world's history. Bigger than the dotcom blowout? Yes. Will it wreck the real economy? Don't know. Haven't I predicted enough for ye? Don't be greedy.

 

Ah, sure, while we're at it, we'll lose at least one of the Big Three American car companies. 

 

Well, that has the potential to make me look very stupid indeed in 2010...

 


Anyone want to argue? 

Dick Cavett on comedy writing

Dick Cavett, the former gag-writer, TV host, and gold-medal pommel horse state gymnastics champion of Nebraska, has been writing about comedy in his New York Times blog. He makes a great point about comedy writing: the more of it you do, the better you get. Which is why writers who write in the tragic mode often find themselves stuck there. Even if they wanted to write comedy, they haven't built up the muscles. But here's Dick, in his own words:

"Talking about comedy writing last time, I omitted an interesting phenomenon thereto: the fact that the gag-writer’s brain often works independently of his conscious mind. Sometimes alarmingly so. Because the topical joke-writer’s livelihood depends on his ability to crank out — if the show is on daily — good, current stuff, fast and for immediate use. And after a great deal of this, there’s something that develops and takes on a life of its own.

The late Steve Allen noted that the more comedy you write, the more you can write. It happened to me. Thrown instantly into the front lines, as I was, of daily writing for Jack Paar on “The Tonight Show” — a task nothing at Yale prepares you for — it seemed that each day of the week got a bit easier. Monday hardest, Friday a breeze. Friday’s jokes seemed to write themselves. Rust set in on the weekend and again, Monday wasn’t easy."

 

Cavett goes on to describe the problem of having an unstoppable joke-generator running in your head at times of national tragedy. A friend of his was writing  jokes for Bob Hope on the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated. He tells Cavett:

 

“There I was, stunned, driving to Bob’s house in Toluca Lake as usual, but with tears running down my face, and those unbidden jokes kept vomiting out of me. My joke-writing muscles were in tip-top shape and, to mix a metaphor, I couldn’t halt the machinery.”

 The whole piece is very interesting if you're into the psychology of writing comedy, as is Cavett's previous posting "A Life In Rim Shots", which tries to answer the question, "What does it take to be a comedy writer?"

 

Like many other theorists before him, Cavett ultimately has to throw up his hands:

 

"The brain process that results in a joke materializing where no joke was before remains a mystery. I’m not aware of any scholarly, scientific or neurological studies on the subject. The crux of the mystery is, when exactly does the ad-lib artist become aware of the spontaneous joke he has just spouted. In the case of a comic genius like Groucho, I’m convinced that the process in the speaker’s head that results in funny words spoken is somehow preconscious. Sitting next to him, I saw him be both delighted and . . . this is important . . . surprised by what he had just heard himself say. He was as much the audience to the joke as the rest of us who heard it."

 

Well worth a read. These guys were the poor bloody infantry of comedy, banging out hour after hour of topical jokes for the TV stars, night after night, in the age of live TV. Probably nobody in history has had to come up with more jokes than these guys. Their brains should be dissected. (After they're dead.)

The Sound Of One God Laughing

As I just mentioned in the news section, my long essay on comedy and the novel is in the current, May, issue of Prospect magazine, in All Good Newsagents. You can read it free here. (And you can read a lot of people arguing about it in the Guardian here.)

The essay sums up a lot of my thoughts on the state of the modern literary novel, and on the state of Western Culture. (That's "state" in the rather Irish sense of, "God, would you look at the state of Western Culture, hey Ted? Has it drink taken, or what?")

And given that the essay is about four and a half thousand words long, I think that's enough to be getting on with for today. Class dismissed! Go on out and play in the yard.

Jean Baudrillard is dead

This blog is turning into an obituary column. Interesting.

Anyway,  Jean Baudrillard, the French explorer of hyper-reality, died yesterday (Tuesday March 6th, 2007), in Paris, France, aged 77. He'd been ill for ages.

Jean Baudrillard, like many Frenchmen, was a poet pretending to be a scientist.

There are two main theories of Baudrillard:

One is that he was a great and original thinker who described the modern world as it really is.

The other is that he was a tremendous French bullshitter, high on his own supply, using words which he failed to define, in a style that imitated science without understanding it, and whose work made no sense.

Both theories are correct. 

 Jean Baudrillard is famous for:

1) Inspiring the makers of The Matrix films. Baudrillard later said they didn't understand his ideas at all.

2) Writing the essay "The Gulf War did not take place".  (Almost all criticism of which has been written by people who have not read the original essay, thus proving quite a few of his points about the nature of reality, in an age saturated with far too much information to process. And yes, I have read it.).

 As I have no opinions or beliefs, I neither endorse nor reject him, nor any of his ideas, nor indeed any of my own comments on his ideas, as laid out above. But he was a big influence on Jude, and it's a pity he'll never read it now.

Arthur Schlesinger is dead

Well, Arthur Schlesinger, the great liberal American historian, has died. Heart attack in a restaurant at the age of 89, not a bad way to go. If you are interested, here's a proper, old-fashioned, sprawling, comprehensive, New York Times obituary.

And if you're only a little bit interested, here's a bite-sized chunk from it:

'In 1949, Mr. Schlesinger solidified his position as the spokesman for postwar liberalism with his book “The Vital Center: The Politics of Freedom.” Inspired by the Protestant theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, he argued that pragmatic, reform-minded liberalism, limited in scope, was the best that man could hope for politically.

“Problems will always torment us,” he wrote, “because all important problems are insoluble: that is why they are important. The good comes from the continuing struggle to try and solve them, not from the vain hope of their solution."'

Under the JFK administration , one of his jobs was to take Jackie Kennedy to the movies. What a great life.

Debt & Derivatives: A Prediction.

Warning: This is solid economics all the way to the end, and it's long. So, please, skip it if this kind of thing doesn't interest you.  I will totally understand.

 

Sigh. OK.  For the last week, I've been meaning to predict a global economic disaster, but never got round to it. And now there's this big 9% Chinese stock market fall today, which has jolted the US markets down 3%, so if I post now I'll look like Chicken Little, hit by an acorn and screaming "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!"

But, sheesh, I'll do it anyway.  Here's my prediction, based a little on economics and a lot on history and human nature. At some point in the next five years (but my gut feeling is much sooner, within the next two years) there will be almost simultaneous collapses in the valuations of many unrelated asset classes across much of the world.

 OK, why? Because almost every major unregulated financial innovation starts out being used for its intended purpose, gets misused by more and more mainstream financial institutions to make free money, and is pushed to grotesque excess, leading to the unexpected collapse and disgrace of often venerable institutions, followed by reform and regulation.

 The new derivatives (especially some of the credit default ones, and some of the very, very weird and complex derivatives-of-derivatives) are classic examples of this.

Step one: A great idea. You can hedge risk by buying a derivative: for example, if you own General Motors bonds, you can insure against the risk that General Motors will go bust by buying a credit default derivative for those bonds. The derivative will pay out if General Motors goes bust. Voila! You now have no risk. Ultimately, either the bonds will pay up, or the derivative will pay up. Banks also get excited, because they can shift risk off their books by packaging debt (say a bundle of mortgages) and selling it as a product. Risks can be spread more widely. This should lead to greater stability in the markets, and safer banks.  And it would, if human nature didn't lead inevitably to...

 

Step two: Misuse.  People and institutions start to get really, really interested in the derivatives themselves, and not the underlying asset, as the derivatives themselves become tradable assets. At first it's just people buying and selling derivatives they don't need. Someone with no General Motors bonds buys a credit default derivative for those bonds, because he figures it's better value than the bonds. Now debt, and risk, start to change meaning: Instead of being locked in place between a lender and a borrower, debt and the debt's risk can be moved, separated, repriced, sold, resold, shuffled, combined with something else, repackaged, renamed, rebranded, remarketed, in derivatives of derivatives of the original thing, whatever the hell that was.

 

Step three: Grotesque excess. The relationship between derivatives and the underlying assets becomes totally meaningless. The value of outstanding derivative contracts becomes massively greater than the value of all the assets on earth. Many derivatives are now pure and simple speculation (or "bets" as they used to be known.) But there is a feedback mechanism now exaggerating the situation and pushing it to its limit (and crisis). The removal of risk from the lending institutions leads to far more lending than would otherwise be the case. The removal of risk from the borrower means that companies and institutions are far more keen to borrow than they would otherwise be. Much of the lending and borrowing is to buy unanchored assets which only exist because of the extraordinary liquidity of the financial markets. Real-world debt is now an asset in high demand: therefore, there is immense pressure to supply it.

 

An example: Banks which once made their money slowly, from mortgage borrowers slowly paying back their mortgages, now make much more money, much faster, by slicing-and-dicing the mortgage debt into complex derivative products and selling it to hedge funds. So the bank's primary customer becomes the hedge fund, not the guy buying a house. The product the bank is selling has changed: it's no longer selling money to people who need money: it's selling debt, to institutions that need to buy debt. And almost any mortgage to almost any individual becomes profitable, because the supply of real world debt is the only bottleneck, in a world awash with liquidity.
 

 Step four: Unexpected collapse. The global house price bubble is largely explained by this hunger for real debt to repackage. A lot of other assets are now at silly prices because the illusion of no risk has led to vast over-lending into a limited pool of real-world assets. The consequent pumping up of real-world asset prices keeps the whole game going. But risk hasn't been eliminated: it's merely been moved around (and, I believe, mispriced).
There is also, in total, a lot more of it than there was before. A crash has become less likely, on a day-to-day basis; but it will be larger and spread across more territory and asset classes when it does.

 

By definition, an unexpected collapse will be unexpected. It's impossible to predict the trigger, and foolish to predict the timing. But if it pops, the feedback loop which pumped it up will reverse and act to deflate it. There will be a horrible drying up of liquidity, a credit crunch, and a fairly general asset crash.

 

But, to end on an up note, the underlying real-world economy is in fact in excellent nick (on its own terms, but that's a different debate). It is also, now, a system of such tremendous complexity that it is in fact quite stable. (The mathematics of large complex systems are very interesting and often counterintuitive). It will bounce back surprisingly quickly. And once derivatives and hedge funds are properly regulated, they will indeed bring greater stability to the  financial system. Until the next major innovation.

 

OK, that's it. Glad I got it off my chest. And don't worry, it's just my pet theory. I could also be quite wrong. Nobody really knows what the hell is going on in the financial markets these days. They're now just too vast and complex to model. And they involve the one factor that can totally screw up any prediction: lots and lots and lots of people, living their lives, and making their decisions, and reacting to events while creating new events in a real world that exists on a plane that transcends any theory.

 

If you made it all the way to the end of that, my God, you're a hero. Thanks for sticking with it. Buy yourself a cup of coffee. Have a biscuit too, you deserve one. 

Robert Anton Wilson reduced to an essence

Last entry, I recommended some books by the late Robert Anton Wilson. But who the hell has time to read books? CERTAINLY NOT ME. This is the Inter-Web-Cyber-Net, baby. We are Futuristic, Highly Stressed, and Time-Starved. Our Hair Is Falling Out. So here's the vital essence of all the books of Robert Anton Wilson, condensed, filtered, distorted and traduced through my consciousness, with added Faulty Memory Mangling:

We don't experience the world. We experience tiny, tiny hints and glimpses of incredibly limited and local aspects of the world. And even those hints are viewed down a Reality Tunnel of prejudgements (evolutionary, cultural and personal) that blocks out most of what we're potentially capable of seeing and hearing. Our Reality Tunnel tries, in particular, to block out any information that would conflict with our view of the world.

This has consequences. For example, a US, Yale-educated, Protestant, neo-conservative female politician sees a different world to the world seen by, say, an Iraqi, Karbala-educated, Shiite, conservative male cleric. They live in different realities. Their private universes are quite different. And communication between those private universes is difficult, because each has a set of unspoken assumptions that the other does not share. (Wittgenstein would say that, when they talk, they are playing different language games: many of the words they use have quite different meanings in each language game, therefore communication is not really happening. A guy is playing tennis against a guy playing golf.)

If they don’t even realise that they are not really communicating when they speak, that they are neither understanding nor being understood; well, the misunderstanding can get very messy very fast.

(Wilson would also say that all that I have written is essentially meaningless, because I'm using big abstract words ["conservative" "Protestant" “male”] that don't map onto specific things or actions in the real [objective, outside-us, difficult-to-know] world. And I'm using the "is' of identity ["He is black" "I am rich" “She is crazy”], and such statements are never true.)

Given that all beliefs are based on faulty and inadequate information, we should not give too much weight to them. In particular, we should not mess other people around, or kill them, on the basis of our beliefs.

We should question all beliefs, including our own belief in questions.

And given that we are prone to look at life through an ever-narrowing tunnel, it’s good to try to see the world through other people’s reality tunnels now and then. Read a newspaper from the other end of the political spectrum to your own. If you’re pro-life, browse a pro-choice website, and vice versa. Check out a different religion occasionally. Read some economics. Sit up a tree and pretend to be a bird. People’s (radically different) world-views work for them. There’s often something useful there, that you can use to broaden your tunnel, to see a little more of this astonishing universe.

But don’t fall in love with any world-view. Even Robert Anton Wilson’s.