Fantastic Metropolis

The outstanding new book of the year for 2004 (though officially published in February 2005) is David Britton’s Fuck Off And Die, a compendium of Horror Fun in the form of one of those juvenile annuals to which I used to contribute in the 1950s. Gorgeously produced, much of it in full colour, it comes with a fine introduction by Alan Moore and an illuminating essay (on ‘contra-fascism’, which is as good a term as any for Britton’s astonishing over-the-top method of dealing with the psychic underbelly of ‘compassionate conservatism’—a fine antidote to Bushovik sentimentality). Schopenhauer in action. Much of the La Squab material (Britton’s angelic Little Miss who rarely misses a literary assassination with her PPK 38) first appeared in that much missed magazine The Edge, edited by Graham Evans. You can get a taste of Savoy by going to their website—and indeed you can order this masterpiece of counter-culture comics from the same source. I could rave on forever. Moore and Britton between them remain the only truly seminal producers of comics left on the planet. I gather Alan likes it as much as I do. You’ll see the odd similarity of reference between Lord Horror’s Creep Boys (Meng and Ecker are back again) and the second series of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Everything else—I mean everything else—seems bland after a dose of this. Kris Guidio (with John Coulthart) on graphics, outstand Coulthart design, fine editing by Butterworth. The Withington Four at their outstanding best.

I’ve also enjoyed Coetzee’s Age of Iron, Maalouf’s Ports of Call, reread Woolf’s Between the Acts (still have problems with it, but not as many, and Woolf still beats almost every other 20^th century writer), People Like Us by Michael Collins, Letters to Auntie Fori by Martin Gilbert (both of which I reviewed for The London Magazine, also recommended), Steve Aylett’s Lint, also Aylett’s anthology of quotations from his own work, Tao te Jinx, and would direct you to The Guardian for other reviews of books I’ve enjoyed this year (I only review books I’ve liked), including Brian Aldiss’s Affairs at Hampden Ferrers, which I reviewed for The Guardian but which for some reason they decided not to run. I remain a great fan of Persephone Books who reprint books (mainly novels) mainly by women, though next year they’ll be bringing out a new edition of R. C. Sherriff’s The Hopkins Manuscript, a decent piece of sf about mankind doing rotten things to other bits of mankind, published in 1939, when his warnings came a little late. I also did a new introduction to the fine Folio edition of The Invisible Man and The Island of Dr Moreau—The Time Machine and The War of the Worlds were introduced by Iain Sinclair and Bryan Appleyard. Sinclair’s new novel Dining on Stones, which drifts down to the bleak resorts of East Sussex (Hastings, St Leonards) and offers a kind of elegy for the fading seediness which has all but disappeared from London proper. This, Sinclair suggests, is where the imagination goes to die. Indeed, it’s where a lot of rootless or uprooted writers and some Londoners go to die, tramping mournfully up and down the windy shingle, wrapped in grey car-coats, merging slowly with the sea-fog until they disappear, a lost echo, a faded memory.

The White Stripes continue to put out some good music. Ian Dury fans will want to read Ian Dury & The Blockheads: Song by Song, by Jim Drury, which comes with its own CD. Ian Abrahams gave us his excellent Hawkwind book this year, too.

I was glad that Thunder’s Mouth brought out the US edition of New Worlds: An Anthology. Stories drew from the golden age of the so-called ‘New Wave’ in the UK. Here we see the difference between the UK New Worlds and the US. US went for improved writing. UK was looking for new ways of doing narrative. I was also flattered to see The Deep Fix on record again with Roller Coaster Holiday, actually alternative takes, in the main, to those on The New World’s Fair. I prefer Roller Coaster Holiday, I think. Otherwise I tended to listen mostly to old favourites from Messian to Dylan. Which reminds me to recommend as the outstanding autobiography by a musician, Bob Dylan’s Chronicles, Vol. 1. Continues to obscure his own life, but writes illuminatingly on the art of song writing and is very generous about those who influenced and helped him in his career. I’m sure there’s a lot of other stuff I’ve enjoyed but that’s what springs immediately to mind.

Oh, I even liked the third Harry Potter movie, which I can’t say about the first two, and Bombay Dreams on the London stage left me pretty cold. A pity since I enjoy good Bollywood movies (Devdas is tremendous). I enjoyed Calendar Girls, too, partly because it was set in my old neck of the woods around Settle, W. Yorks. But some great performances by a strong cast of outstanding UK actresses. And John Alderton, who remains one of my favourite actors. Sadly Judy Dench was utterly wasted in the derivative and disappointing Chronicles of Riddick, Vin Diesel’s second science fantasy vehicle.

The White Wolf’s Son, Michael Moorcock’s final Eternal Champion book, will be out in June 2005.