Susan Hated Literature

Author: Christopher Priest
ISBN: 9780575075771 DDC: 823.914
See also: LibraryThing ; More reviews

This much I know for sure.
My name is Peter Sinclair, and I am, or I was, twenty-nine years old. Already there is uncertainty, and my sureness recedes.

Peter Sinclair is 29, and, following his girlfriend’s attempted suicide he runs away from London, to the countryside. There he is supposed to be redecorating and doing up a family friend’s cottage in return for being allowed to stay there. But he gets distracted and begins to write his autobiography. In the course of writing this he discovers that the real truth can only be found within metaphors and through creating an alternate version of his past. And so he begins to write of his past in Jethra. He renames and recreates his family and friends. He recreates a reality.

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Those of who in Ireland will have heard about the Dunne family tragedy. Others among you probably haven’t.

It has emerged that when the dead couple, Adrian and Ciara Dunne, visited an undertaker in New Ross last Friday, they ordered four coffins, headstones and a burial plot, for themselves and their daughters, Shania (3) and Leanne (5). Preliminary post mortem results suggest Mr Dunne was hanged, that his wife was strangled or choked, and that the two children were smothered.

The visit to the undertakers was brought to the attention of the Garda last Friday and the HSE on Saturday. The Garda sent a priest to assess the family’s wellbeing on Friday and he was assured by the Dunnes that they were not suicidal. No Garda member went to the Dunne home. The Garda also passed details of the case to the HSE.

And of course bloggers are blogging about it. Some are laying blame. Finger-pointing or asking why. It is almost impossible to answer the why question. For a mother and father to decide that the best thing for their children was death? It is impossible to comprehend.

This post at The Public, the Private, and Everything In Between it struck me that it could almost have mentioned the Dunnes as well.

How private should private be, and who can ever possibly take it upon themselves to turn the private public? We are living in a precarious time, a time when both spheres are bleeding into each other and the line of demarcation is wavering. There is great potential here. Either we will become a society who ostracizes even more violently those who are different from us, suspect of every quiet student who doesn’t dress like the rest, suspicious of any husband or wife who doesn’t drag his or her child to every Saturday soccer game, or maybe, just maybe, we’ll become a society responsible to something greater than ourselves

After all some commenters seem to believe that the gardaí should have intervened in the Dunne case and removed the family. But all they really had to go on was second hand information. It may not even have been a formal report from the undertaker. Maybe she knew the garda and mentioned it to the gardaí unofficially. I don’t know. But if the social services had already been there that week. If the rest of the Dunne family believed there was no danger would it really have been acceptable to traumatise children and remove them from their parents based on no evidence? With the benefit of hindsight it certainly seems that they should have. But if you didn’t know the horrible results, isn’t it possible that maybe the parents were overly morbid and worried about the family dying in a road accident?

I do however believe that the HSE need to be open over the weekend. If they had made contact on the Saturday then possibly the family could have been saved. Then again, maybe not? Whatever the outcome of the various inquiries into this event I think that we should remember JL Pagano’s comments:

On last night’s edition I seem to recall the most telling evidence of all…three hearses carrying four coffins. This tells me we should let the family grieve, and if any pressure is to be applied anywhere, it’s to those responsible for setting up a public enquiry in a reasonable yet respectful time period so our debate can be a properly informed one.

or Das Leben der Anderen
Dir & Writ: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

• Martina Gedeck - Christa-Maria Sieland
• Ulrich Mühe - Hauptmann Gerd Wiesler
• Sebastian Koch - Georg Dreyman
• Ulrich Tukur - Oberstleutnant Anton Grubitz
• Thomas Thieme - Minister Bruno Hempf

In 1984 in East Germany the secret police, or Stasi were everywhere, watching everything. This film details the activities of one officer, Wiesler, as he monitored a popular playwright. Wiesler doesn’t believe that Dreyman could possibly be as pro the party as he makes out. Too arrogant. So he suggests keeping him under surveillance, just in case. His superior officer doesn’t agree, at first, but then Minister Bruno Hempf mentions that perhaps he isn’t such a fan, and that perhaps Dreyman isn’t a favourite. It turns out that Hempf is more than interested in Dreyman’s girlfriend, the actress Christa-Maria Sieland, and so would like nothing better than to remove his rival by having him arrested and taken away.

But Dreyman writes plays that are acceptable and even in favour of the Party. Of course he is the “artistic” sort, and so is suspect, but he has received state honours and has found much favour with the government.

Not all his friends and colleagues are so lucky. And a close friend, the director Jerska, is driven to suicide after being “blackballed” for several years. This prompts Dreyman into action. He begins to research the suicide rates in East Germany and discovers that statistics about suicides are no longer collected by the state, presumably because the figures are so high. So he decides to write an article for publication in the West. By this stage however his every move is being watched, and listened to. Weisler has more than enough evidence to have him brought in, yet he doesn’t.

This really is a fantastic film. I wasn’t too sure at first. I had heard of it before I went to see it, but didn’t really know what it was about. I’m so glad that it was on at just the right time though. It is perfectly written, perfectly acted and just an all round great film.

I don’t want to say too much and risk ruining anything, but if you get a chance I would highly recommend you go see this film. It is both depressing and uplifting at the same time. A much grimmer depiction of spying than anything you’ll see Bond get up to, this works as both a political commentary on what East Germany must have been like, but also as a look at a man who suddenly seems to discover his humanity and emotion. A beautiful film.

IMDb | Consider Phlebas | A T-Dog Tale | The New Culture Forum

Yesterday at work Bhí cúpla caílíní ag suigh in front of the desk. Psychology students. And as they were studying they were chatting^[1] and got on to discussing suicide.^[2] Now I’ve always felt that suicide is something of a selfish act, because lets face it, it is the people left behind who have to deal with the aftermath. But at the same time, if someone is contemplating suicide then obviously they have problems.

But one of the girls was dead certain that it was only ever selfish people who committed suicide.

Some of the others made half-hearted attempts to persuade her that usually those with suicidal tendencies weren’t ag iarracht daoine eile a gortaithe but she was having none of it.

And her a psychology student! Lack of understanding of what.

Since the O’Gara-incident^[3] I’ve been reading a few comments from those on both sides of the argument. And it never ceases to amaze me how vitriolic people can be in defence of something they know nothing about.

First of all nobody, apart from those actually involved know what happened. You can watch all the you tube vidjos you want, they don’t show what happened. And they don’t show the mental processes of what went on. They do however show Donncha O’Callaghan being punched in response to him holding on to a jersey, is this acceptable behaviour I wonder?

But for all the people screaming that Eddie O’Sullivan should resign and utter a grovelling apology to all Scotland? Well, ye can dream on. Not going to happen. Do I think O’Sullivan should’ve said what he said? No, not so soon afterwards, not until he knew as much as possible. However, presuming that what he said was true then he would have been remiss if he had said nothing. As for the Scottish players? Well, they are all innocent until proven otherwise, and nothing has been proven. So therefore, they are innocent.

And comments about smoke and fire are never welcome.

If it ROG really was choked deliberately, and if the players think that that happened, I think we’ll all find out about it the next time Ireland play Scotland.

Then again, life is so much more entertaining when you leap to conclusions without thinking. Let’s all shout Dúnmharú! nó iarraidh dhúnmharaithe without thinking. Accusations are what make the world go round after all, don’t you agree.

fx: gollum-type-voice “dúnmhartóir! fuathaím thú”

Author: Paul McGrath with Vincent Hogan
ISBN: 1846050766
DDC: 796.334092
See also: Library Thing ; Wikipedia ; BBC ; The Telegraph

I am sitting in a cubicle, the width of a Portaloo, handcuffed to the side.
A fist keeps thumping the panel by me head. A voice keeps searching. ‘Who’s in that one? Who’s in there? Cat got your fucking tongue, mate?’ Doors are banging.

Paul McGrath is probably Ireland’s best loved sporting star. Known as god to many an Aston Villa fan, he was one of our greatest players ever. And we all knew he had a drinking problem, there were the disappearances. And a bit of rumour, but, as fans, we didn’t care. He played great football and that was all that mattered. Ooh Ahh Paul McGrath.

But McGrath didn’t just have a slight problem with drink, he had a huge battle with alcohol and depression, and the fans weren’t the only one who didn’t know the extent of his troubles.

[Kevin Moran:]So I walk around the side of the bed and there’s six bottles of Heineken, partially hidden, two or three of them empty.
And, for me, that’s when the penny drops. That’s the moment that slams it home to me. To think that, after all that’s happened this day, the thing he’s turned to is another drink. It may seem ridiculous having been his roommate for so long. But that’s the moment I realise the extent of Paul’s problem…

Somehow he managed to keep the suicide attempts hidden, playing football with wristbands to hide the scars. Somehow the stories of him drinking bleach never made it into the papers. And while some of his friends and teammates may have realised when he played while drunk, for most of watching he was just Paul McGrath, footballing genius.

This autobiography hides nothing, maybe it was a release for McGrath to get it all out and in the open, off his chest, but it is almost horrifying to read about all that he went through. All is problems, and how little he seems to realise how great he was. Lack of confidence off the pitch, and the impression that he didn’t belong in the company of his teammates. That is what comes through reading this book. When in fact he was the best out there.

It isn’t a straight walk through of McGrath’s life, the book hops around in time a little as he explains about certain things. In places other people narrate what happened, sometimes because McGrath can’t recall the events, sometimes to give a different point of view. And there is much of his personal life that he doesn’t go into, which is understandable, especially regarding his second wife.

A must read for any football fans.

• Robert De Niro - David Callaway
• Dakota Fanning - Emily Callaway
• Famke Janssen - Katherine

After Emily Callaway’s mother commits suicide her father decide to take her away to a house in the woods to help her get over the trauma. But Emily seems to be getting worse. She starts talking to a new friend, Charlie, and he seems to be a bad influence. Her father David, a psychologist tries to use this imaginary friend to help Emily work through her issues. While the audience is left to wonder is Charlie really imaginary? Is he a ghost or the neighbour’s dead child? And why are the locals acting a little strange?

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Came across this from Neil Gaiman’s journal. A bridge in Scotland has been the site of apparent dog suicides, with animal behaviourists unsure of why the animals are leaping to their deaths. They are advising owners to put a lead on their pets while crossing the bridge.

“five dogs have jumped to their deaths from a bridge over a burn at Overtoun House in the past six months.
In the most recent case, a woman out walking her dog watched in disbelief as her pet suddenly vaulted over the parapet and plunged 40ft to its death.
-from The Herald