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The Canons of Culture (NEW CONCEPTS)
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Mick Harper
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Addendum to the above (from one above me)

A sibling wrote:
Praps something you did not know. The Cotswolds is really big in middle-class Japan. Like anywhere, they run largely on media tropes, and because The Cotswolds is so cool and recognisable the promoters lay it on with a trowel. Think "Paris" for us.

Curiously our great friend in Hokkaido, Takashi Oda, is an expert on the Cotswolds and takes groups round. When we first moved here, we asked him to do the same for us. Among other places he took us to Winchcombe, not far from Moreton. The best cream teas are served there by a Japanese family that actually moved deliberately, along with their cordon-bleu daughter. Perhaps the word has got out, but people stay in Moreton.
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Mick Harper
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Smiley's People has just started a rerun on BBC4. This represents two different strands of canonical culture: spy novels and prestige television series. After so many Tinker Tailor adaptations, this comes as something of a relief.

I had quite forgotten about it and have already relaxed into quiet contentment after half an hour of the first episode (of six).
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Mick Harper
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You'll remember from your childhood that Waddington's were the go-to company for engrossing board games. Monopoly, Risk, Cluedo, Scoop, Buccaneer, Totopoly and Formula One were the big ones in our household.

Not all of them are Waddingtons' own work (notably Monopoly) but the origin of some of the ones that are is clouded in mystery. For instance, the story of Cluedo, their most profitable in-house production.

In the 1930's 'murder parties' were a big thing but were put a stop to by the coming of war. It's hard playing 'murder in the dark' when there's a blackout on, so apparently

* Some dude sat down and worked out the principles of Cluedo
* He happened to have a wife who was a graphic designer
* He happened to have a friend who had invented Buccaneer so sent it off to Waddington
* Who put it out to less than wild public acclaim in 1949
* The 'inventor' happened to be a bit naive so when Waddington told him Cluedo had bombed, especially in America where the money was, he agreed to sell the world rights for £5,000
* Whereupon Waddington redesigned the box from black to red with a Sherlock Holmes figure on the lid, changed the name in America to Clue! (and Rev Green to Mr Green because American men of the cloth wouldn't be involved in murder)
* And cleaned up.

Maybe it did all happen the way they said but let us hear your Waddington memories. (Especially a cricket game that I played for hours on my own against an imaginary opponent but can't remember the name of.)
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Mick Harper
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There's a little programme on Radio 4 called Soul Music which features songs that tug at the national psyche, with people coming on to say why. They ran out of power ballads some time ago so they've started featuring items of classical music. Last night it was Bruch's Violin Concerto.

Now I don't allow music in the house but I make an exception for violin concertos, so naturally I'm a world authority on them. I was pleased to discover, in the course of the programme, that Bruch's violin concerto is right up there alongside Beethoven's, Brahms's and Mendelssohn's. They're the four I've got in the house.

But that's not why I'm telling you this. What I want to know is how Bruch managed to compose the world's best violin concerto and nothing else.
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Hatty
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Another much-loved work by Bruch also featured in Soul Music was Kol Nidrei. It was reportedly unplayed for years due to Bruch's music being banned by the Nazis because they thought he must have Jewish ancestry (he didn't).
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Mick Harper
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What I want to know is how Bruch managed to compose the world's best violin concerto, Kol Nidrei and nothing else.
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Mick Harper
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In the same programme someone said, "Of course, that was the old Carnegie Hall, before they modernised it and ruined the acoustics" which filled me with sadness over and above listening to snatches of Bruch's violin concerto.

The first of his two violin concertos, as a close relative of mine pointed out. The first of three violin concertos as a close friend of mine pointed out.
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Mick Harper
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A New England literary coterie comes together in the 1840's: Emerson, Lake... no, I'm getting Lake and Pond mixed up... Emerson, Thoreau and Alcott. I've not read any of them (it's not the kind of literature I would sully with my attention), and anyway I've never even heard of this Alcott chap. He's not in any canon I know of.

Not surprisingly because he's a total nutjob who thinks he's the greatest thinker in the world (do people like that exist?) and goes off to found a disastrously inept agricultural commune called Fruitcakes... sorry, Fruitlands, taking his children with him. One of whom is in the canon, Louisa May Alcott, who describes it all in Transcendental Wild Oats which you can listen to here https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002r39k

Why can't we be more like these dudes? Though also, thank God, we're not.
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Mick Harper
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I often find myself wanting to read classical works of the past but running into a difficulty when doing so.

I can't read the damn things.

Scholars are so prickly about authenticity they insist these works have to be presented to twenty-first century me in ye olde antick style of yesteryear. I can manage when it's a quote or two but not when I'm settled in an armchair with it open on my lap. It gets so in the way of my enjoyment the book ends up in the bin by page three.

Have you tried reading a modern edition of Pepys' Diary in which all the nouns are capitalised?

As they were in Pepys' day (and still are in German) but which I find intolerable when snuggled up with it in bed. All right, I could probably cope with that, if I really wanted to, but then I am driven into epic inattention by Pepys's style. It's like reading a Shakespeare play. It's hard enough hearing it declaimed on stage but there's no way I'm going to read quasi prose pentameters for pleasure.

And I'm not going to read somebody else's diary for any other reason. Why on earth would any Pepys enthusiast want to drive me away over such meaningless nitpickery and pedantic fidelity? Why on earth do publishers of modern editions of Pepys's Diary insist only Pepys enthusiasts can be given the responsibility?

Give it to someone who can write twenty-first century prose and doesn't give a monkeys about literal authenticity.

I have just ploughed through the complete works of Jefferson Davis because I wanted an authoritative account of how the Confederacy was governed and the very few (other) books on the subject were priced beyond my book budget and/or weren't available on Kindle. Or at any rate ploughed through as much of Jeff's prolix nineteenth century style as I could manage without falling asleep. Blimey, his books are pored over enough for their contribution to the historical record

why can't someone do a bit of re-writing so it can be part of my historical record?

Currently I want to consult some of Francis Bacon's works (the seventieth century Lord Chancellor not the twentieth century pope-botherer). This is after reading the (highly recommended) Winding Stair by Jesse Norman. But I want to read what Bacon's got to say, not the way he wrote it for a seventeenth century audience. I just know I'm never going to find a modern translation. If only he'd written in Latin!

Come on, you twerps, divert a few of those vast funds you spend on preserving the classics in all their finery and give them to us straight.

i.e. not straight
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Mick Harper
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The Super Bowl halftime show is always a good barometer of who is in the pop canon. The organisers have to play to eighty thousand saddo NFL fans in the stadium but with a mind to the 130 million watching round the country.

The choice generally falls on familiar British rockers of yesteryear or Janet Jackson reprising her wardrobe malfunction hits. You know the sort of thing, middle of the road with attitude.

This year it was someone called Bad Bunny who I hadn't heard of and was therefore faintly distressed to learn he is currently the biggest thing in music. I must remember to get down with the kids more often. People might think me out of touch.

I couldn't make out what genre of music he represented--not even what language he was singing in--but it was very jolly watching him bobbing and weaving between the stooks of corn covering the '49ers pitch, clutching his groin suggestively and exchanging bits of stage business with clusters of Latino-types. Though with what overall purpose, I couldn't make out.

But there were two post-show developments that really took my breath away. The first was President Trump denouncing the whole thing (for being unAmerican, I assume, though I'm sure he didn't say that when it was The Who) and then discovering the 'stooks' were in fact people dressed up in grassy outfits who, at the end of the performance, walked off quietly presumably to return whence they came.

The game itself was not memorable and I've forgotten who won.
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Wile E. Coyote


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Here at Shepton Field, we have the local Sally Army Band, there are no lithe cheer leaders with pom poms, doing acrobatics in incredibly tight shorts.

We have never had a complaint.
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Mick Harper
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You seem to be expressing regret at the absence of pubescent girls in sexualised costumes. I urge you not to give public utterance to this in the present climate. Damn, I've done it myself now. I'll have to send in both our names to the authorities.
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Mick Harper
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In the backwash from Bad Bunny, The Athletic ranked the halftime shows. Now I never watch these, I only noticed mention of British acts over the years because the Super Bowl is such an all-American extravaganza. I was basically chancing my arm, but here's the full Brit list

The Who
Phil Collins
The Rolling Stones
Sting
Paul McCartney
U2*


which is less than I thought (and none of them are rated highly) but, considering everyone else is American (with some Bad Bunny-type outliers), is impressive and speaks unusually well for our usually derivative musical culture.
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Mick Harper
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I'm being immensely entertained by this https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002r3ky

James by Percival Everett
An electrifying re-imagining of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and winner of 2025's Pulitzer Prize, by one of America's greatest contemporary authors.

I wasn't going to bother when I discovered it was rendered in the most grotesquely woke terms but I soon realised it was actually science fiction. An alternative history, one in which black slaves were a race of put-upon intellectuals.

PS Looking for a word to use instead of the overused 'woke', I discovered nobody mentioned the word when I asked for synonyms for 'liberal'. Proving once and for all that lists of synonyms are compiled by wokes.
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Mick Harper
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My Judy Garland Life (BBC R4)

I was listening especially keenly to this very good growing-up autobiography by Susie Boyt (who?) because it featured an unvarnished account of her mother, a sixties hippy who was an exact contemporary (time and place) of mine and I kept nodding, 'I know the type, honey.'

Then she mentioned in passing the name of her estranged (but round the corner) father. Lucian Freud, and I decided I didn't know the type after all.
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