THE STORY SO FAR: PART 174

“LONG, COMPLICATED CONVERSATIONS” 

WORDS, AND HOW THEY ARE USED, HAVE A SPECIAL STATUS IN IRELAND—AND IT SHOWS

My gorgeous sister, Lucy, featured the above anecdote on Facebook—and it set me to thinking. Lucy’s observations have a tendency to do that. She is the youngest member of the family, and almost certainly the wisest—and she has an excellent visual sense.

Where conversation is concerned, the reputation of the Irish is already legendary—whether the Blarney stone has been kissed or not. If you haven’t heard of the Blarney stone, I will say no more except to report that legend has it that if you do kiss it (you need a head for heights to do this) you will have the gift of the gab forever. Frankly, I don’t think most Irish need such encouragement.

So, let me turn to the written word. Here, I am nothing if not biased because my life is focused on just that—words—and written words at that. Whether such words are printed on paper, or read on an e-reader, tablet, or Smart Phone makes scant difference to the process of writing (although I detect a tendency for e-books to be shorter). But writing is writing.

Where writing is concerned, as it happens, Ireland, an extremely small country in terms of population—a  little over 6 million in a world of 7 billion—has produced an impressive number of world class writers, and continues to do so; one of them being that truly admirable teller of tales, the late Maeve Binchy quoted above.

Another being my own son, Christian O’Reilly, who apart from being an award winning playwright, has one movie to his credit—more than I have so far—and now writes for the BBC (which is the literary equivalent of qualifying as a Navy SEAL; it’s that tough).

They are both part of a magnificent tradition.

I could go on. There is that phenomenal poet, Seamus Heaney, and that beautiful writer, Peter Cunningham.

And then we come to to movie director Neil Jordan, who is also an author of surpassing talent. Can you place Neil Jordan? Think INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE with Tom Cruise—and much else besides.

All in all, even if one does not hark back to such literary luminaries as Swift, Yeats and Wilde, the roll call of Irish talent (both past and current)constitutes a long, long, list—longer than most people realize because Irish writers are also often claimed by the British as well! Indeed they claim the Duke of Wellington, himself a very fine writer, as a British military hero. But the man was Irish, I will have you know. Yes he did say: “Being born in a stable doesn’t make one a horse,” but nobody is perfect.

What can I say! It’s a complex relationship, and the British are not exactly short of bards (let me throw in Shakespeare, who is generally reckoned to be culturally acceptable)) but they still like to claim the successful Irish as their own, when they can. I suspect this stems from their empire complex—a feeling that they have a right to sail the world and grab whatever they can. Appreciate that a lot of Vikings settled in Britain and contributed to the gene pool. Indeed, the Normans, who won the Battle of Hastings and thus conquered England in 1066, were originally Vikings. Not many people know that.

But let me offer a few thoughts on how Ireland’s continuing literary tradition has come about. Much as the Vikings long had a tradition of raiding, pillage, rape and destruction (which somehow has produced the extraordinarily peaceful and economically successful Scandinavian countries) the Irish have long been besotted with words. Think “grand passion.” This is not a minor dalliance.

And here we are talking about a love affair that has endured for roughly a millennium and a half—a singular display of affection and fidelity. For most of that time it has been predominately oral, but the written word has been present—principally because of the influence of monks—for longer than most people realize. Nonetheless, the dominant tradition was oral.

Here is an insight from Wikipedia:

Poetry in Irish represents the oldest vernacular poetry in Europe. The earliest examples date from the 6th century, and are generally short lyrics on themes from religion or the world of nature. They were frequently written by their scribe authors in the margins of the illuminated manuscripts that they were copying. The best known example is Pangur Bán.

It was practical for poems to be short because the Irish recognized that it was necessary to use any means necessary to make the poems lasting in their oral culture. To accomplish such a feat as well as they have, they used complicated rhyme schemes that would render a poem nonsensical if any of the key words were changed from the original version.

In an oral culture, Irish poetry had many uses. A poem could be used to immortalize both the poet and the subject of the poem; oftentimes kings would commission poets to create a piece about them. Such poems would be passed on to descendants so they would remember the great deeds of past generations.

But why are the Irish oral and literary traditions so distinctive and so enduring?

• They are endemic to the culture. Words and what you can do with them, are enormously important to the Irish—and wit is considered fundamental to the human condition.
• Oppression under English rule for many hundreds of years meant that, for many, words and dreams were all the Irish had left—so they made the most of them. In Ireland, dreams have substance.
• Success breeds success. It is singularly inspiring to have so many extraordinarily talented role models for generation after generation.
• The juxtaposition of the Irish and English languages—with Irish adding something very special to the way English is both spoken and written.
• The high status of education in Ireland which has long resulted in an extremely literate population.
• The active support of the Irish government from the foundation of the state in the belief that the nourishment of the culture was –and remains—singularly important.

The results, I am delighted to say, have been—and continue to be—spectacular, despite Ireland’s current economic woes. Enlightened societies have long known that investing in a nation’s culture generates  both tangible and intangible added value—and that the free market alone is not sufficient. This raises the interesting question of what tangible benefits could be generated if the U.S. ever decided to invest in the arts in a serious way. Current support for the arts, in a nation of about 315 million, is little more than tokenism.

I suspect we would be agreeably surprised, economic growth would be stimulated, and the quality of our lives would be enhanced.

It would be interesting to pick one state and really experiment—because if one could show definitively what the effect of supporting the arts could be, the consequences could change our thinking profoundly.

If you doubt me, just take a trip to Europe and there just imagine the economic effects of the Renaissance. Wander, browse, look and think. Stare in awe. Wander around Verona. Soak up the beauty of Florence. Watch the palio—it’s a horse race--in Sienna. Gaze in admiration at St. Peters. Consider what these people created.

The impact of that extraordinary time must have exceeded that of the Marshall Plan many times.

I rest my case.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 173

NOT YOUR AVERAGE COW!

QUITE SO! AFRICA IS DIFFERENT—AND THIS IS A BLUE WILDEBEEST (which, of course, you knew)

I receive a great deal of fan mail—all of it welcome, by the way—which I try to answer individually. That may be unwise, because it takes a great deal of time to deal with correspondence (which, arguably, I could be putting to better use by writing new books) but I am deeply grateful to those who take the trouble, not only to support me, but to write—and somehow feel they deserve a personal response. As you will appreciate, that is not a rational decision—it comes from the heart—but it has been deeply rewarded by my making some some very good friends, and by feeling that I have been doing the right thing, albeit not the sensible thing.

The trouble with replying personally is that a thoughtful reply tends to generate further correspondence—and, before you know it, you are swamped. Still, some readers stand out—and one of them was (and remains) Pieter Stofberg. He likes my books and I’m fascinated by what he does. Big game hunting harks back to many books of high adventure I read when younger—and to Hemingway.

Pieter runs a big game hunting operation in Namibia, Africa—and by all accounts does a magnificent job. His clients rave about him, and he is aided by the fact that Namibia, the country, is absolutely spectacular.

In short, going on safari there is not like going down to Cancun, Mexico, for two weeks in the sun. It is the experience of a lifetime.

Going on safari doesn’t mean you have to hunt with a gun—that’s a personal choice. You can also use a camera, or just revel in a completely different way of life. Or you can fish. Namibia offers a range of choices. The important thing is the experience—which is so different from the current Western way of life as to change your way of thinking—for the better.

I haven’t yet set a Fitzduane novel in Africa—though certain episodes from his past are set in the Congo. But that may change.

Pieter’s company is called African Days and his e-mail is pieterhunt@yahoo.com

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 172.

OF AIRSHIPS AND EARTHQUAKES—AND OF UNKNOWN UNKNOWNS

When I was writing about airships the other day—and commented on the advantages of the Airlander hybrid airship in disasters (particularly because such a hybrid aircraft is unaffected by buckled roads and broken bridges, and does not require a runway—yet can carry many tons of cargo), my mind quickly recalled that such a disaster is highly likely to hit Seattle—where I happen to be living right now.

Hmmm!

This is earthquake territory with a vengeance—and sooner or later the Big One will hit.

Gulp! Pause… while fingers of fear do what such things do.

But earthquakes are a predicable hazard—even if difficult to predict with any precision—so if the ground shakes and is ripped open; and if I fall six floors before the roof falls on me—into Lake Washington where drowning seems highly likely on top of my being crushed—I shall be able to console myself with the thought that such an event was not entirely unexpected—though a little warning would have been nice. In effect, I will have died in my comfort zone. What a relief!

In truth, I am much more concerned (and interested) about the unpredictability of life—in a more fundamental sense of the threat being unknown—and I am somewhat of a believer in Nicholas Taleb’s Black Swan theory. Here is what Wikipedia says about it:

The black swan theory or theory of black swan events is a metaphor that describes an event that is a surprise (to the observer), has a major effect, and after the fact is often inappropriately rationalized with the benefit of hindsight.

The theory was developed by Nassim Nicholas Taleb to explain:

1. The disproportionate role of high-profile, hard-to-predict, and rare events that are beyond the realm of normal expectations in history, science, finance, and technology
2. The non-computability of the probability of the consequential rare events using scientific methods (owing to the very nature of small probabilities)
3. The psychological biases that make people individually and collectively blind to uncertainty and unaware of the massive role of the rare event in historical affairs

Unlike the earlier philosophical "black swan problem," the "black swan theory" refers only to unexpected events of large magnitude and consequence and their dominant role in history. Such events, considered extreme outliers, collectively play vastly larger roles than regular occurrences.^[1]

The question now is whether I am thinking of all this from a personal point of view, or as a writer. Am I revealing some of my own inner fears—or am I thinking in terms of plotting another story? Frankly, I am damned if I can tell the difference.

I find it hard to express the joy that last sentence gives me. My life, and my writing life, have now become one (and it only took a few decades).

But let me close with a quote that encapsulates the very essence of what I feel about good books. They are not just a pleasure to read, or an inspiration to the intellect—marvelous though that is: They are a call for action. Ideas are what move us forward.

“ A truly good book teaches me better than to read it. I must soon lay it down, and commence living on its hint. What I began by reading, I must finish by acting. ”
- Henry David Thoreau

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 171

THIS PHOTO OF MY MOTHER IS SO LIKE MY DAUGHTER, EVIE—AT A COMPARABLE AGE—IT IS REMARKABLE

My much loved sister Lucy keeps on pulling family photos out her mysterious horde—which begs the question as to where they are coming from. I thought I had the main repository—and mine are all in store. Yet Lucy keeps on issuing such photos on Facebook. Time for me to ask, I suspect. Either way, I’m delighted. I had thought some of these were lost.

My mother—an only child—was brought up in Newtown House, Termonfeckin, Co. Loth, Ireland—a place large enough to be an institution. It now is one—and has been so for many decades. It is the headquarters of the Irish Countrywomen’s Association, and seems to be mainly used as a training center. It is now called An Grianan.

An Grianan Adult Education Center (Termonfeckin (Tearmann Feichín))

The ICA purchased what was then known as Newtown House, in trust for the benefit of the people of Ireland. In October 1954 An Grianán was officially opened by the then President of Ireland, Mr. Seán T. O'Kelly. It is now open all year for a wide range of Adult education classes. Open to pubic for visitors. Garden center open.

My mother was educated by French governesses up to her mid teens. My much loved grandmother meant well—such an upbringing was the norm in her privileged world—but the results were disastrous. My mother felt oppressed by the governesses, missed the companionship of other children, and eventually rebelled completely.

When she was old enough, and WW II broke out, she took off for London and enlisted in the WAAF as a radar operator—and otherwise had what they call “a good war.” Men and women lived as if there was no tomorrow, because all too often, there wasn’t. Civilians died in their tens of thousands in the Blitz. Soldiers, sailors and airman died wherever they were sent. It wasn’t called a World War for nothing. They died throughout the globe. Meanwhile, when on leave, they did what young and frightened people do. They threw caution to the winds and sought comfort in each other’s arms.

I was one of the results. I, too, rebelled. It seems to be something of a family tradition. Children are one of life’s greatest pleasures—and worth every second of dedication—but difficult. And they don’t remain children. Such is the nature of the human condition. I don’t expect it to change.

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 170

“5 TOP REGRETS PEOPLE HAVE AT THE END OF THEIR LIVES”

The above headline is the title of a fascinating piece in the e-magazine Alternet by Susie on February 15, 2013.

Alternet is a Left Wing publication which tends to be prone to excessive headlines—in my judgment—but which still publishes some truly thought-provoking articles. I check out about 20 publications with some regularity, and Alternet is one of them.

In this case the writer was commenting on a book by Bonnie Ware, an Australian palliative nurse who recorded her extensive experiences of the dying in a blog and then went on to write a book called THE TOP FIVE REGRETS OF THE DYING.

Needless to say, it immediately made me wonder what regrets I will have as I lie on my deathbed waiting for Father Time to wield his scythe (if I have the luxury of time to contemplate my life before it is terminated) so I read on with interest. Had I made the same mistakes as everyone else—which seemed highly likely—or what?

What I found surprised me and made me feel decidedly better about some of the decisions I have taken. Of course I have regrets—one can always do better—but the following list is, mostly, NOT applicable in my case, though I do wish I had tried harder to keep in touch with friends (and I have tried).

In particular, despite many difficulties, I followed my dream—which was to become a writer.

I give thanks every day that I made that decision and had the fortitude to execute it against formidable odds. In truth, I am still facing considerable difficulties, but am not persuaded I should give up writing.

The following is the list of regrets that, according to Nurse Bonnie Ware, people have at the end of their lives. They are well worth thinking about. I was particularly struck by the phrase in Regret 2: “The treadmill of a work existence”—doing something every day which fundamentally you hate. If that is the best we can do as a society, we need to change—soon, and drastically. It cannot be good for either the individual concerned, or society as a whole, for people to be be made miserable by their work. It also cannot be good business.

As it happens, I love my work—writing—with more passion that I can put into words. As a consequence I feel both fortunate and privileged . However, the transition from conventional business to a writing career was extremely difficult, and did not happen by accident—and the life, itself, remains financially insecure.

I guess we all make choices and have to live with the consequences.

 

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

"This was the most common regret of all. When people realize that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honored even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made. Health brings a freedom very few realize, until they no longer have it."

2. I wish I hadn't worked so hard.

"This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children's youth and their partner's companionship. Women also spoke of this regret, but as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence."

3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.

"Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result."

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

"Often they would not truly realize the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying."

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

"This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realize until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called 'comfort' of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content, when deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again."

 

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 169

SAD NEWS—IF YOU ARE AN AIRSHIP LOVER LIKE ME

THE U.S. ARMY HAS CANCELLED THEIR LEMV

I have absolutely no idea why I love airships--much as I have no insight as to why I am fascinated by—amongst other things—geodesic domes, high-tech yurts, monorails and FastShips (which are a new type of short, wide, high speed cargo ship designed to fill the gap between fast but expensive air-freight, and slow but less expensive sea-freight). However, clearly I root for the underdog, because these are all marginal areas of technology which—despite their promise—do not seem to have encouraging futures, except possibly, in works of fiction. Of course one never knows. The development of almost any new concept—whatever its merits—tends to be vastly harder than is generally appreciated because it is up against some very powerful forces. The ones that immediately come to mind are vested interests, inertia, ignorance—and lack of money.

In fact, I included an airship sequence in my thriller RULES OF THE HUNT. This was prompted by the very real presence of a Japanese police airship which hovers over Tokyo most of the time—and which is just taken for granted by most people. Presumably, it is packed full of surveillance equipment, but it doesn’t feel intrusive—which is one of the advantages of airships. They can hover, virtually silently, for extended periods of time—days if necessary—high enough to be part of the scenery. In contrast, helicopters are low-flying, noisy, intrusive, extremely expensive to run, and have very limited endurance—typically only two to three hours. All of that said, I will admit that helicopters fascinate me too—and I have faith they can be vastly improved. But, that is another story.

The compromise, where surveillance is concerned, would appear to be drones which are evolving so fast they are rather hard to write about. I tend to feel that by the time I finish a piece on them, the opening paragraphs are already obsolete.

We all know that they are controlled from the ground, sometimes by operators who are thousands of miles away—an extraordinary concept in itself—but perhaps we should be aware that more and more ground vehicles and aircraft can control themselves for much, or all, of their operational time. Whatever be the purpose of such scientific progress, we are talking about a series of major technological achievements here.

Be that as it may, here is a short extract from a recent Wired magazine article. Danger Room is Wired’s excellent military technology section. Highly recommended.

Say goodbye to the Long Endurance Multi-Intelligence Vehicle, or LEMV. Built by Northrop Grumman, it’s a dimpled blimp as long as a football field; seven stories high; and carries a price tag of over half a billion dollars. The plan was to use the blimp over Afghanistan, where its gondola could haul seven tons of cargo — including advanced camera gear able to see dozens of square miles of terrain with crystal-clear resolution at a single blink. It would stay 20,000 feet above the warzone for weeks at a time, something beyond the capabilities of any spy plane, manned or piloted. Trials over Afghanistan were slated for early this year.

Not anymore. A report in InsideDefense citing anonymous sources said LEMV quietly met the Army budget axe last week. The Army confirmed it, on the record, to Danger Room late on Thursday.

It strikes me as quite an achievement to get the price of a single blimp—even with a dimple—up to over half a billion dollars (that is “billion” with a “b.”). But Northrop Gruman, the very model of a modern high cost, high margin, defense contractor, doesn’t really think in small figures, even though it never actually designed the aircraft. That distinction belongs to Hybrid Air Vehicles of the UK who rightly felt they needed a U.S. alliance if they were ever to crack the U.S. defense market. Many have had the same thought and perished in the process. 

Why “Hybrid” in the name?

Well, the LEMV actually gets only 60% of its lift from helium and the remaining 40% from aerodynamic lift. That makes it hybrid in terms of lift—and much easier to control. For instance, on the ground its own mass keeps it in place and it can move around on built-in air-cushions—rather like a hovercraft. Similarly, in the air, its own mass makes it much more stable in adverse weather conditions. Because it needs to be actively flown to obtain part of its lift, that makes the engines much more important, and it is noteworthy that the designers have planned in roughly ten times the power than would normally be available on a traditional blimp.

There is a civilian version of the LEMV known as the Airlander. One of the great advantages of such an aircraft is that theoretically it can airlift considerable quantities of material—50 tons has been mentioned—over great distances much more economically than by conventional aircraft; and it can land and take off from any cleared, relatively flat area—without the need for either a runway or ground crew. These are huge advantages.

Will this ever actually happen? Not unless more money is invested in this area. Great ideas tend to need fine-tuning to get the end result perfected, and that requires development money. 

Surveillance apart—which was the U.S. Army’s area of initial interest, potential applications are many and various. Appreciate the advantages of being able to transport heavy loads over considerable distances in a cost efficient manner without the needs for either roads or airports—while remaining unaffected by the terrain below, whether it be land, water or ice. Whole areas of the world would become accessible at last. Significant aid could be brought in fast after disasters—especially where the roads and bridges have been destroyed.

I have no idea whether Hybrid Air Vehicles have a sound design as yet or not, but this is a concept that really should be pursued.

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 168

BACK IN 1966, I WAS 22 AND THE U.S. WAS A VERY DIFFERENT PLACE

ONE TENDS TO FORGET JUST HOW DIFFERENT

I first visited the U.S. in the early Seventies. At the time I was the founder and Managing Director of the UK subsidiary of the Addmaster Corporation of California (the latter still exists, and is thriving, I’m proud to say). The subsidiary was called Addmaster UK—and despite great odds, we were very successful.

At that time, though I am Irish—albeit Anglo-Irish—I lived in London. Many Irish still do. That is where the work was—and still is.

Back to the Seventies: In that era, the main commercial threat came from the Japanese, flying was still enjoyable, there was no accepted terrorist threat in the U.S., and the American Middle Class was still in good shape (though the Vietnam War had exacted a heavy toll in American lives and treasure—and, most crucially, on American self-confidence).

Just about everything, from the American diet to the cost of Healthcare, was to change over the next 40 years—and mostly not for the better as far as most Americans were concerned. Perhaps the most disturbing development was that rising American prosperity, stemming from significant increases in productivity, ceased being shared. Previously, since the end of WW II in 1945, all the stakeholders—shareholders, management and workers—benefited, more or less proportionately. That ended around that time.

Subsequently, after the early Seventies, the Rich got ever richer, but the bulk of the population—the Middle Class—saw virtually no increase in earnings at all. And now Middle Class earnings are in decline; and unions have been virtually crushed—at least in the private sector. The Rich have won—and some have stated quite publicly that they are unhappy with that fact.

I’m far from sure this is the way the U.S. is meant to be; needs to be; or should be. It is not the American way to want to pull down those who are successful, but neither is a low wage economy, combined with a steady downward pressure on earnings, acceptable—especially because costs are going up. Sinking wages combined with rising costs does not happiness make; nor does it make for a healthy democracy.

It kills the American Dream.

I have written about all this in my book, TITANIC NATION: How To Avoid Icebergs.