‘Dominique Strauss-Kahn, the Bill Clinton of the IMF’, I read recently. Poor Bill Clinton, it makes what he did seem even worse, because a derivative is always weaker than the original.
There was a time when countries showed each other some goodwill during the Eurovision Song Contest; when I, a seven-year-old, watched TV and was very much in love with Dana (All Kinds of Everything) from Ireland. Nowadays the song contest resembles a continuation of war by alternative means.
In the early morning of 30 April, I am walking with my publisher along the deserted Notting Hill streets. It is the start of a new endeavour: taking publishing to Portobello Market. Holland Park Press’s premises are within walking distance.
It is not always such a bad idea to hide in a kitchen cupboard, especially not when a doctor has just told your mother the results of an important medical test.
For years my sister has been earmarking hats for my wedding; proper hats, not fascinators. A fascinator is one of these tiny concoctions worn at a jaunty angle on one’s head. They are very popular at the moment because they show off the hairdo.
Fifteen-year-old Regina Mayer from the village of Laufen in Southern Germany has succeeded in making Luna the cow jump like a horse. Her farmer parents refused to give her a horse, so she simply saddled one of their cows. After a bit of effort, she managed to teach the cow to jump over a fence.
A new poetry competition to celebrate the publication of Angel.
When I come across a group of tourists, nine out of ten times I can guess their country of origin. It may be that you simply recognise the language, the number of cameras is suspiciously large or in any case they look very Japanese. But even with European tourists you can spot their roots miles away.
The past week brought nothing but misery; still, there was marvellous news from the Middle East. Apparently some 2000-year-old codices have been discovered in a Jordanian cave. The texts are supposed to mention the Messiah and the Resurrection. Most scholars are cautious; before you know it, your reputation is in shreds.
My Japanese earthquake was called Kimiko and happened 25 years ago. All of a sudden, dressed in a kimono, she appeared on my parents’ doorstep.
I have never won a prize, not even a literary prize. This week I caught myself in the act of practising a Colin Firth in front of a mirror. ‘I am the bald Colin Firth,’ I said and moved my voice down a register. ‘This is my acceptance speech.’ Luckily I didn’t have an audience.
A new story by bestselling Dutch author Herman Koch in English and Dutch
‘There are two kinds of writers,’ the author had replied. ‘One attempts a new approach with each book. The other keeps rewriting the same novel.’
Things expressed in English sound more dramatic than in Dutch. This is caused by the greater use of intonation and word stress within a typical English sentence compared to the Dutch. When speaking English the Dutch feel they are overdoing it, as if they are taking part in a play.
All columns published since 1 October 2009
This week the film Howl is released in the UK. Howl is named after a poem by Allen Ginsberg. This is how the poem begins:
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
If humans have something in common with chickens it must be having a pecking order. Hierarchy is absolute among chickens. Number one eats first. Put hens too close together and they will peck each other to death. That is why battery hens’ beaks are trimmed.
It has been a bad week for the Society of Dictators. In particular the Middle Eastern section has been under fire. I am glued to the box. I want to get every detail. So I wondered: Is Dr. Zahi Hawass a minor Mubarak?
During his State of the Union address, President Obama referred to a Sputnik moment. It took me back to Destination Moon, one of the adventures of Tintin. This was my only comic strip. I didn’t really like strip books. Yet Destination Moon appealed to my imagination.
