End The Hunger Scandal

foodsummit6
For the first time in human history, the number of people across the world suffering from hunger exceeds 1 billion — one sixth of the world´s population.

Next week, global leaders will meet at the World Food Summit in Rome to address this growing crisis. But some wealthy countries are threatening to renege on a new $20 billion pledge made earlier this year to boost agriculture in the poorest countries.

Petition to G8 leaders attending the Rome summit:
We urge you to deliver, in full, the $20 billion developing country agriculture and food security package pledged in L´Aquila G8 Summit last July. This money must be additional to existing aid commitments, and priority should be given to investments in sustainable, small-scale farming.

Let’s act before famines set in. Sign the petition here.

Kate Humble Overwhelmed By Adhan

Part of the BBC documentary, The Frankincense Trail, presented by Kate Humble.

Mapmaker: a few more changes

This is the new blurb:

al-IdrisiDecember, 1148; 543 AH: a small band of assorted travellers gather on Marettimo, believed by some to be Homer’s Ithaca, now a fortress island off the coast of Norman Sicily. Among them is leading intellectual luminary of Roger II’s court, Muhammad al-Idrisi, ostensibly on an expedition to complete his geographical grand treatise, Nuzhatul Mushtaq. In truth, al-Idrisi has been directed by the Brethren of Purity to deliver a book, “that will be in your hands hands on the day you first see the port of Bristol,” to none other than the Empress Matilda herself. Finding safe passage on Captain Ali’s magical vessel, al-Jaariya, Idrisi shares conversation and adventures with an extraordinary array of characters, not all human, on a tumultuous voyage where the darkest encounters are not with sea monsters or storms, but with the desires and contradictions burning at the very heart of the age of enchantment.

A few changes – the quest narrative has more prominence (“the book” — but to some extent that will be comic); in connection with that, I will draw on Homer’s Odyssey; and in connection with that, the passengers are leaving from  Marettimo, believed by some to be Ithaca from The Odyssey — a real place, but reproduced in The Mapmaker mythologically and as a creative amalgam of city-ports of  mid-12th century Southern Italy.

I hate blogging because…

…I learned to write English as a wannabe poet, paying very close attention to language. I write creative prose in the same way. I did once write an entire novel (now forever shelved) using a relaxed, narrative voice, and it sounded fucking hideous. I can’t credibly summon a ‘voice’. I don’t write and speak in the same way, and I don’t speak in a way which would easily transfer to the page.

I particular hate blogging about past events. I have never ceased to struggle with the English past tense complex. I’m not sure why. I actually consider English tenses unbearably clumsy – events might be past, but what about people’s motives and attitudes? In recalling things gone by, there’s always a danger of writing as if ‘now’ is some kind of non-existent realm, whereas the opposite is true. I prefer to write primarily in the present, linking past tenses to a here-and-now narrative.

Academic prose is formulaic, and often benefits from a modicum of wit and narrative drive. I like my academic writing to be tight. I loathe waffle. I’m not someone who ever has too little to say in an essay. The need to be concise is the mother of diligent writing. I enjoy essay writing – except for book reviews, but I haven’t written any essays for ages. When I’m not bonkers, I’m generally an ‘A’ student.

Finally, in attempting to write in a more relaxed prose style, I find myself bored with the language and write as quickly as I can. The result – endless typos. And as I leap back to correct badly structured sentences and ill-considered vocabularly, I leave redundant conjoining words undeleted, or forget to change person or tense in a verb.

I really ought to give blogging up. I’m a creative writer, and perhaps I’d make a serious essayist. But I can’t knock out copy like a journalist.

Journalism is a different kind of writing altogether.

Email to Pierre Lellouche


Sir

In respect of comments attributed to you reported in today’s Guardian. “France: ‘Autistic Tories have castrated UK in Europe’”: http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2009/nov/04/france-autistic-tories-castrated-uk

I would kindly ask that you refrain from using the words “autistic/autism” as a means of deriding your political opponents, as there are many parents of people of autism, and people with autism themselves, who find the words so used to be profoundly offensive.

Kind regards

Yakoub Islam
http://www.bayyinat.org.uk/autism.htm

Clive James is a Sucker!

clive james, one step below a nonce
Clive James isn’t a climate change sceptic, he’s a sucker – but this may be the reason
George Monbiot, guardian.co.uk

There is no point in denying it: we’re losing. Climate change denial is spreading like a contagious disease. It exists in a sphere that cannot be reached by evidence or reasoned argument; any attempt to draw attention to scientific findings is greeted with furious invective. This sphere is expanding with astonishing speed.

A survey last month by the Pew Research Centre suggests that the proportion of Americans who believe there is solid evidence that the world has been warming over the last few decades has fallen from 71% to 57% in just 18 months. Another survey, conducted in January by Rasmussen Reports, suggests that, due to a sharp rise since 2006, US voters who believe global warming has natural causes (44%) outnumber those who believe it is the result of human action (41%).

A study by the website Desmogblog shows that the number of internet pages proposing that man-made global warming is a hoax or a lie more than doubled last year. The Science Museum’s Prove it! exhibition asks online readers to endorse or reject a statement that they’ve seen the evidence and want governments to take action. As of yesterday afternoon, 1,006 people had endorsed it and 6,110 had rejected it. On Amazon.co.uk, books championing climate change denial are currently ranked at 1, 2, 4, 5, 7 and 8 in the global warming category. Never mind that they’ve been torn to shreds by scientists and reviewers, they are beating the scientific books by miles. What is going on?

and the rest…

Success and The Novel

Yakoub
When I started out as an “artist” (-a word meaning life-concept, now considered a crime against self-deprecation), writing music, poetry and prose in my 20s, I was ambivalent about success. It beckoned like a devil. Success was ’selling out’, in a mask. The most important thing, I told myself, was to do what I wanted and liked. If a few folk loved what I was doing, cool. Someone was bound to dig my work, sooner or later, if I stuck to my guns. Better the honest artist than the artful salesman seeking to satisfy people’s desires, however peverse. The good artist is the teller of truths.

It all felt very noble. And then I sold out, although not as an artist. I did and said things I didn’t believe in, to be a good husband, student, teacher, even Muslim. Part of me is glad I did. The noble individualist is a selfish and sanctimonious moral position to take. More than that, I’m glad I learned to look at things from points of view I might have otherwise balked at. I’ve seen the world in a way that would have otherwise remained hidden from my lofty artist’s ivory tower. Yet part of me feels soiled.

Now, as I return to my literary obsession, the hundred times I’ve betrayed myself has helped me understand that art — as a concept of living-working — requires the artist to step outside subjective solipsism. But I remain just as tender to all those betrayals. I have never stopped reviling the art of salesmanship — and that’s nothing to do with the fact I’m a crap salesman. The use of plot or character are devices for exploring human possibilities in a fictional narrative, not ploys for pulling punters. What has to engage the reader is a sense that the work is a coherent, considered, creative, sincere, evocative exploration of human meaning. I am inviting others to walk beside me in order to explore life, not escape from it.

Telling a good story, or creating attractive characters, or writing sparkling prose are not ends themselves, except for the starving entertainer. That insight casts fantasies of interviews and awards, along with the devil himself, back into the burning, sulphurous abyss. Writing is not a fucking test, with the pass mark being a publisher who insists you re-write the last 50 pages to make it appeal to deadheaded bedwetters in surburban Basingstoke.

Art is about human transcendence and cultural evolution.

Writing is the most prostituted art on the planet – blogging, novel writing, you name it. Whether it’s for acclaim or cash, the old whore is out there, telling you what to best say and how to best say it in order to make it seem like the real thing. And if you learn to touch her L-spot in the right place, she’ll never stop telling you what a fantastic person you are. I just unsold out.

The Mapmaker is going to a great novel. But if you’re a  looking for something to distract you from a world pissing in yer face, my advice is, put a brick through a bank window. Art is about where humanity is heading, not how to escape from the here-and-now whilst doing fuck all to save yourself. Art is about liberating the soul from torpor, not surrendering to it.

I’m tired of the intellectual, emotional and political cowardice that pollutes so much art in contemporary Britain. Death to those who shit on the word “art” as if any discussion about possibilities beyond living room banalities is a crime called “pretension”: death to a culture dominated by such bitter, tiny minds, where striving to be something more than pedestrian is mocked as “grandiose”. Sounds to me like we’re being told to mind our place.

Goodbye to all that. Art is where everyone in the world becomes Rumi.

Like I said, I just unsold out.