Skippy Dies

I wondered what might the difference be, and if I would spot it, between a novel long-listed for the Man Booker prize and a short-listed one. Paul Murray's Skippy Dies was long-listed.

Skippy is a lad in the early days of secondary education and he dies in chapter one in a doughnut eating competition. That's not exactly a plot spoiler, given the title.

We then do the 'some months earlier' thing and build back up to the event, which arrives again not at the end but about three-quarters of the way through this long book (661 pages). By then we have understood the situation a bit differently and it becomes a study of the way a bereavement hits a school.

It is the last quarter of the novel which is weak. OK weaker. It's not that bad. Some of the adventures of the school kids become too far-fetched - the characters are almost believable but the plot isn't quite. So it falls between the two stools of a schoolboy novel and a study of bereavement. It is described as comic on the back cover but it isn't funny enough.

The text is good and reads easily. The setting of a catholic boarding school seems to work so the research is OK although for me thinking Cream wrote Layla is unforgivable.

I doubt very much if I have the staying power or literary nous to be a Man Booker judge, but I think I get the decision in this case.

Published by Hamish Hamilton 2010

If you want to read something shorter about a death at a school (as if) then my short-story is here.

Hypocrisy

Yeah it's me I'm talking about again. Or rather it isn't me precisely but I do find something weird happens when I am faced with speaking on any subject where by and large I don't have the problem.

I first noticed this in about 1986 or so when someone due to preach on 'Christ the Healer' was taken ill and my vicar thought it would be good for me to step in at the last moment. I generally enjoy good health, that sermon went well, and around the same time I ended up standing in for a venture leader due to do the main evangelistic address on a houseparty, again at the last minute.

Maybe it was because people knew how little preparation time I had had but in both cases the feedback was superb.

Since then I have had a great confidence in my ability to improvise a riff around a theme - hmm, jazz preaching - if necessary. By and large I haven't been accused of a lack of preparation. Give me a Bible and a verse and I'll do you 20 - 30 minutes with no notice.

This is also not to say that I don't prepare. I do. But I know I can cope if I don't.

This is also not to say I don't get nervous. I wake early on Sundays however well I am prepared and find them a marvellous laxative. It's tough to eat Sunday breakfast but I force it down.

So today, despite the knowledge that all will be well (and is prepared) I feel really worried. Is this a higher power's way of letting me know what it feels like to be someone else? Imagine going round permanently with this feeling in my guts. Ghastly.

Jesus says the birds of the air don't worry. I'm not sure he was a great ornithologist so he was probably making the point that all they can do is work to get food and feed chicks. Try and escape the sparrowhawk but if it gets you so what? Life's hard and then you die to feed someone else's chicks.

What a great thought for the day.You are so much more important than the birds, yet one day your body will feed the worms that feed the birds.

Don't be anxious now. Let's go to church. It'll be great.

Opposites Attract

When Mrs M and I first met, probably at a time when our personalities were still being formed (yes, I'm still waiting), we didn't realise we had done the 'opposites attract' thing. The advert might have been:

INTP seeks ESFJ for mutual frustration and lifelong disagreement

Time wasters may be acceptable

The thing we tumbled to, after about fifteen to twenty years because we're not quick on the draw, was that both of us could operate as long as we knew who was in charge. Every bit of our life can be divided into projects and sub-projects and one of us leads with the other person only doing precisely what they are asked and no more. Suggestions are welcome (shall we take this pot of burning black stuff off the heat now?) but taking over is not. You can tell me what to do or you can tell me how to do it but you can't tell me both.

Well it works for us. I'll plan and book the holiday but Mrs M will be in charge of currency, lotions and potions. She will be in charge of how the house looks and I will put rinse-aid and salt in the dishwasher. She will be nice to our friends and offer to look after their dog for a week; I'll walk, feed and administer medicine to same dog (hang on; something went wrong here).

Anyway it's stood us well and I think I have learned to spot trouble in other relationships caused by the same mismatch. In one, notorious, case my colleagues and I co-ran a project for seventeen years using the principle 'whoever appears to be in charge is.' If one of us made a decision the others absolutely stood by it and worked with it. I have never known such harmony. We probably did less than three things 'great' but we did thousands 'good enough.'

After a week or so of working where the parameters aren't so clear I need to be alone. Badly.

Which is helpful. Because a little meditation and contemplation, followed by a recommitment to adaptability, saves killing people too often. By the way I will be less likely to carry out this plan if you look good in heels.

Excuse me now but I need to go and plan a murder.

Loitering

Spent a very enjoyable morning wandering round this Trendlewood Housing Estate with a church friend trying to see if we had missed any place that could possibly house a church presence here short of building a building. A garage that could be an office? An old barn? Pickings were slim and we are having a different sort of think.

We wandered down all the roads, including apparent dead ends. We had open minds to closed roads.

In one cul-de-sac we turned at the end, chatted briefly about getting our bearings compared to the main road and headed back.

'Can I help you gents?' A man was walking out of a house with a mobile phone to his ear. I replied in the negative and he continued 'Well you walked to my house.' I corrected him, explaining that we had remained in the road at all times (we had) and turned towards him so he could see my dog collar. 'I'm Steve the local vicar' I said. 'Oh bad luck' he replied, shaking my hand but not offering his name. He told me a neighbour had elerted him to our presence.

I have some questions. Can you imagine living in a cul-de-sac so dull that someone walking up your road is suspicious? Granted my colleague had a black woolly hat, but it was not a balaclava, he was, as far as I know, unarmed and it was cold. The second question only dawned on me hours later. If this guy had been alerted that we were walking towards his house, whose house was that he was in? Was he burgling it? I think we should be told.

And what was that 'bad luck' all about?

Peripheral Vision

Shavings has discussed before how the evolutionary deck has dealt men better long-sight (spotting distant targets) and women superior near-sight (embracing family, keeping the children close). That is why the woman next to you smacks your knee when you pick your nose. You don't understand how she can possibly see, but she can. She can.

This ability means that a woman is probably better at seeing two things at the same time whilst men concentrate on one. Multi-tasking anyone?

On the football field an assistant referee is required to observe if anyone is in an offside position at the moment the ball is kicked to them. This involves focusing on two separate fields of activity at the same time.

Anyone like to take a wild guess as to which gender should, in theory, be better at this?

I didn't write this only to be able to use the labels 'football,' 'evolution' and 'sexism' on the same post but it does make me happy.

What will they make of us?

Pete Ward wrote, in Growing Up Evangelical (SPCK 1996) that you could tell the issues that preoccupied Christians in any particular decade by the titles of the songs they penned. He charted the evangelical ten year obsessions, I recall, with conquering evil (1970s), claiming the ground (1980s) and telling God how we felt (1990s). It was fascinating stuff and I commend the book.

Interesting conversations today with two or three people led me to ponder what people of the future will make of the church in the early part of this millennium based on the titles chosen for populist Christian books. My thesis was that titles swayed between the words driven and grace - a balance which has been a struggle for many people since the days of the New Testament. John Ortberg's The Me I Want To Be ( I recently finished it) typifed the problem with his sub-title Becoming God's Best Version of You. I fear that God's best version of me isn't the me I want to be. I quite like the lazy, good-for-nothing waster I want to be. It's the me I ought or need to be who is a challenge.

Another insight, provided by one of my colleagues, was the predominance of the word me we will find in contemporary writing. What will they make of our ego-ecenticity? We spoke of cross-carrying but wanted everyone to understand how fully and utterly surrendered we were with some amazing purity of motive. What happened to us.

How do you like your grace? Amazingly, I don't take mine purpose driven.

ABC Poison Arrow

Underneath many 1980s power pop, over-produced hits were quite a few good songs trying to get out. Here Martin Fry and an old upright acoustic piano make this great again.

Right on the target (not wide of the mark).

Zero 7 - End theme

Here's the original. A bit calmer.

Zero 7 - End Theme - remixed by Roni Size

It was good before the demon remixer got hold of it. Now it's outrageous. Also a bit different. I'll remind you of the original tomorrow.

Roots Manuva - A Haunting

A slightly spooky groove as Roders gives us his extraordinary lexicographical gymnastics.

Doobie Brothers - lazy Sunday soundtrack

The early 70s saw the best work by the Doobie Brothers. This is a terrific song and outstanding vocal harmony work.

Musical Week

Will dedicate this week to some music you may have missed as I am going to try and avoid doing any faith thinking for a few days. Facebook and Twitter (@s1eve) updates to continue as usual.

Alabama 3 - Woke Up This Morning - acoustic version

No matter how many times I hear this, and whatever the version, it still causes shivers of delight and an outbreak of toe-tapping. Note Larry Love's explanation of the original inspiration for the song.

And You Are?

One of the things I discovered was done at Holy Trinity and at Trendlewood, when I arrived here, was that all those leading services introduced themselves by name. I think, as well as simply being courteous, it writes into the liturgical DNA the idea that there may be visitors or newcomers. Not everyone here will know who I am. So I tell them. I now do it all the time - including weddings and funerals.

In the last four days I have been to the celebration of the opening of the new Baptist Centre in Nailsea and to the celebration of 25 years since St Francis Roman Catholic Church was dedicated. At neither event did the minster/priest leading the service introduce themselves.

Next Book

I find the world of publishing a little weird on occasions, for as copies of Mustard Seed Shavings - the book hit the shops BRF will be screaming at me to deliver my script for the next one.

The next one? Oh yes. So much Christian publishing is aimed at leaders that I want to have a go at what it's like to be led. At heart the book will be about church - how to belong to one without being a leader of it.

What should I talk about? (I know that should have been 'About what should I talk?') I have a pretty good idea, having listened to the moans and groans down the ages, but would love to hear from anyone who wishes to make suggestions. Ta in advance.