Thursday, December 11, 2014

The Origins of "The Twelve Days of Christmas"

A man goes into a shop, the sign above which reads "Birds-in-Trees".

Shopkeeper: Good morning, sir. How may I help you?

Man: Good morning. I'd like a puffin in a plum tree please.

Shopkeeper: Excuse me?

Man: A puffin in a plum tree please.

Shopkeeper: Do you know, sir, that's the first time anyone's ever asked for that combination! I've got everything from an albatross in an almond tree to a wren in a willow tree but no puffins and no plum trees. Are you dead-set on that particular bird-in-tree?

Man: Well, I did think it had rather a nice sound to it . . .

Shopkeeper: I agree with you, sir, it does have a certain something. Did you come up with that pairing yourself?

Man: Well, to tell you the truth, I'm writing a song, or rather carol, for Christmas, you know.

Shopkeeper: A songwriter! That is impressive.

Man: Well, it's not finished yet, and I always find that acting out the lyrics of my songs helps me in the writing process . . . I suppose I'm what you'd call a method songwriter.

Shopkeeper: A Christmas carol, you say?

Man: That's right. And the singer of the song is telling the listeners all the things her true love has sent to her over the twelve days of Christmas.

Shopkeeper: I follow you.

Man: And on the first day I thought it would be fun for her to receive a puffin in a plum tree.

Shopkeeper: And you want to actually send your true love a puffin in a plum tree to help you in the songwriting process?

Man: That's it in one!

Shopkeeper: Well, like I said, no puffins and no plum trees. I'm very sorry about that.

Man: Do you have any other birds-in-trees starting with "P" perhaps?

Shopkeeper: Let me check to see what we have on hand . . . Birds first . . . Here we are. We have pigeons, plovers, pelicans . . . oh and a few partridges.

Man: Partridges, eh? Hmm.

Shopkeeper: As for trees we have palm trees, papaw trees, peach trees . . . and what's this . . . oh yes we have one pear tree left too.

Man: One pear tree, you say? Partridge . . . pear . . . [beating out the meter] a partridge in a pear tree! You know, I do believe that's even better than a puffin in a plum tree! That's it! [singing] On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me / A partridge in a pear tree!

Shopkeeper: That's a very catchy tune, sir.

Man: Thank you very much. And thank you even more for not having any puffins and plum trees in stock!

Shopkeeper: Delighted to be of assistance, sir. I'm assuming you would like your partridge in a pear tree gift-wrapped?

Man: I would indeed.

Shopkeeper: Excellent. Oh and I almost forgot: we're giving away a free gift with every bird-in-tree bought today.

Man: How very generous. What is it?

Shopkeeper: Two turtle doves.

Friday, January 17, 2014

Sir Graham Henry's new Rugby Party set to kick the opposition into touch

Hot on the heels of Kim Dotcom's Internet Party comes the announcement today by Father of the Nation Sir Graham Henry that his new Rugby Party will also be contesting this year's election.

"I've founded the Rugby Party because this country needs world-champion politicians as much as it needs world-champion rugby players," Henry told a senior assembly at Auckland Grammar School this morning.

"Quite frankly, the current government is under-performing in almost every aspect of the game. They haven't just dropped the ball -- they've sold nearly half of it to foreign investors, and you can't play the game with half a ball."

New Zealand Gerald has obtained a copy of a leaked strategy document reportedly written by former All Blacks Graham Thorne and Richard Loe in which the following are listed as the Rugby Party's key policies:

  • The replacement of the Cabinet with an "Executive First 15" who will be supported by a rotating "Bench" of junior ministers.
  • A ban on all French imports. "French wine and cheese are particularly debilitating for New Zealand's prospective All Blacks."
  • A ban on spherical balls in school playgrounds.
  • The marking of a 22-metre line on fields used in ALL sporting codes in New Zealand.
  • The replacement of Religious Education with Rugby Education in all primary schools in order to dispel any confusion between rucks and mauls and penalties and conversions in the minds of future All Blacks.
  Asked what he thought the Rugby Party's chances were in this year's election, Henry smiled and quipped, "Kiwis care more about rugby than they do about life itself. I stake my leadership on becoming New Zealand's next prime minister. We only have to win by one seat."  

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Len Brown doesn't do his own laundry, alleges Graham McCready

Graham McCready, who has been described by no lesser an authority than Cameron Slater as a "serial litigant, convicted fraudster, blackmailer and now bankrupt", has today alleged that Shan Inglis, wife of embattled Auckland mayor Len Brown, does some of her husband's laundering for him.

Now, one of the main planks of Len Brown's 2013 campaign was that he always did his own washing and ironing, and this arguably tipped many undecided voters in his favour. Doubts over the veracity of this statement were raised soon after his election victory, of course, when several loads of Mr Brown's dirty washing were aired in public, first by the aforementioned Slater and then, incessantly, by the New Zealand Herald.

And now Mr McCready has dropped his latest bombshell, alleging that gifts in the name of Ms Inglis were a "laundering exercise'' to avoid Len Brown having to declare them on his register of interests. By accepting these freebies, maintains McCready, Ms Inglis became a party to her husband's alleged laundering and "in the interest of justice she ought to be made accountable".

If proven true, McCready's allegations will pile further pressure on Mr Brown to admit that he does not, in fact, do all his own washing, an admission that could well prolong indefinitely the tumultuous spin cycle he currently finds himself in.


Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Kim Dotcom unveils new political party; names Tinky Winky as mascot



All eyes were on Kim Dotcom again today as the Internet tycoon revealed the surprisingly prosaic name of his new political party. The Internet Party, which sounds more like a seedy gathering of IT nerds and all-night gamers than a serious political institution, will contest this year's election and Dotcom is confident the party will cross the 5% threshold and enter Parliament.

Perhaps sensing that "Internet Party" lacks the panache of the names of his other endeavours (Megaupload, Baboom, for example), Dotcom has enlisted out-of-work teletubby Tinky Winky as his party's mascot. The equally larger-than-life Tinky Winky, who is thrilled to be on board the Dotcom juggernaut, also acts as creative director for the party's communications.

"Purple is the colour of royalty," Tinky Winky told me outside a perfect re-creation of his teletubby home in the grounds of Dotcom mansion, "and if anybody has a claim to royalty these days it's Kim Dotcom." When asked what sort of remuneration he was getting for his services rendered, Tinky Winky replied, "big hugs, three new handbags, and all the tubby custard I can eat." With staff of this calibre in tow, one would be a fool to discount the Internet Party's chances come November.    

Monday, January 13, 2014

Thank God for Colin Craig

Join me, my fellow New Zealanders, in giving thanks for the existence of Conservative Party leader Colin Craig, a man whose political savvy makes Machiavelli look like Aaron Gilmore and who today has told the country that he still does what all right-minded Kiwi parents do: smack their kids. It shows a truly remarkable amount of courage on Colin’s part to fight the law (and God knows he’ll win come election day!), the same kind of courage it takes to smack one’s children.

I myself draw on all my reserves of courage before smacking my 2-year-old boy. Just last night at the dinner table he refused point blank to say grace and I was forced to fetch him a clip round both ears, a manoeuvre his persistent disobedience has given me ample opportunity to perfect. 

So let us give thanks again for Colin, for his having the courage to speak out and affirm Kiwi parents’ God-given right to smack their kids. If God hadn’t wanted us to smack our kids, He wouldn’t have given us hands, and the fact that He’s given us feet is a pretty strong indication that He isn’t averse to us giving our kids the odd kicking when the occasion requires either.

Colin's courage has inspired me to design a t shirt that every smack-friendly parent should wear with pride. My dream is to hear the righteous voices of NZ parents raised in one unified "Smack Attack" against Sue Bradford's evil law, chanting "Smack your kids up!" all the way to the steps of Parliament.  God bless you, Colin Craig, Saviour of the Smack!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Election Special: How John Key and National will create 170,000 new jobs

A New Zealand Gerald Exclusive

Leaked government documents reveal how National plans to allay doubts over their ability to create 170,000 jobs over the next four years. National will implement an entirely new form of job creation scheme, the focus of which will be the nationwide production and delivery of menhirs. In the leaked documents Bill English recommends that John Key tell the nation's jobless: "Me think you able sell heap big heap menhirs plenty quick."


Friday, October 7, 2011

The Pretentious Poet #4: Ian Wedde


New Zealand Gerald is delighted to announce that the essence of this week's Pretentious Poet, Ian Wedde, has been extracted by one of the country's most talented verbal artists, Anthony Blanche.

Blanche was born in a taxi en route to Hamilton Hospital in 1977 and reborn exactly 33 years later on a rainy winter's night in Grey Lynn, when he was simultaneously drenched by a passing BMW and blinded by a speed camera. He documents the effect this experience had on his poetry in "Beamed by a Beamer", which was chosen as one of the 25 best poems published in New Zealand last year by Victoria University's International Institute of Modern Letters, headed by Bill Manhire.

Ian Wedde's poems appear in numerous journals and anthologies, and he has published 13 collections. He was recently chosen as our third poet laureate. Says Blanche: "Wedde's poetry runs the gamut from bonsai images of bliss to vicious vistas of the unweeded gardens of our souls . . . he's a true poet of the age."

+++++

"On being appointed New Zealand Poet Laureate"

I quit the matted russet folds that lie between her
legs to answer the phone one morning. The Green Link bus
rolled by, rattling china dogs on the mantelpiece. Time stood
still. “You’ve got it,” said Bill
Manhire.

My thoughts run to Ted Hughes, my brother Laureate, that
scourge of feminists, “Daddy you bastard” (we had coffee once
at his club off Piccadilly); he of the wild ink-black forelock
scouring his face like a demented windscreen wiper. I
grab Ted’s book of Ovid poems from the shelves and a box of

Kleenex and scurry to my hideaway – the alcove under the
staircase. Dark encloses me, like the dank womb: memories
crowd in. I never liked Casablanca, the black-and-white scenes, I
wanted to colour them in with crayons, with my twin brother, until losing
patience I forced them down his throat. I much prefer The Usual Suspects, it’s in

colour. Kevin Spacey – who would have known? And Gabriel Byrne, searching that
ship for cocaine that wasn’t even there: “There’s. No. Fucking. Coke!” I turn on the
light. Blinking I clutch and mould a wad of Kleenex and read of
Cinyras, cramming his seed into the forbidden place: I wedge the used
bolus of tissue with the others, now dry, my very own little

ossuary of triumphs, and think: Here am I, the tokotoko-bearer, the
Keyser Söze of New Zealand letters. Look on my works, ye Mighty, and

despair!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Pretentious Poet #3: Cilla McQueen


New Zealand Gerald's third Pretentious Poet is Cilla McQueen, our second poet laureate (2009-2011). A three-time winner of the New Zealand Book Award for Poetry and recipient of just about every other NZ poetry award going, McQueen's achievement is extraordinary for all the wrong reasons. Her writing displays no discernible awareness of how poetry differs from prose. To mask this fundamental ignorance, McQueen writes "poems" that are described by critics as "elusive of definition" (read: lazily formless) and as exploring "a space between prose and poetry".

The extent to which McQueen has managed to pull the wool over the eyes of the NZ Poetry Establishment is best evidenced by the fact that she brazenly describes one of her writing projects as poet laureate as a novella, which is of course a prose narrative. Called Serial and divided into eight chapters of a few hundred prosaic words each, its word count is barely that of the average short story. To disguise this, McQueen peppers the narrative with well over a hundred photographs she creatively found in the National Library of New Zealand archives.

So in McQueen we have a poet who refuses to do the hard work that every poet of substance knows they must do in order to discover what poetry is and then create it. There is of course nothing wrong with writing that inhabits no fixed genre, but when something like Serial is deemed "poetry" in the sense of a work produced by a poet who has been honoured as the country's poet laureate, there is something very wrong indeed. Postmodernism and its attendant academic laziness have created a situation where the Poetry Establishment no longer knows or even cares what poetry is. Hence the super-saturated irony of the recent establishment of the position of New Zealand Poet Laureate. Going by McQueen's Serial, which she calls a novella and is barely as long as a short story, the position should be renamed "New Zealand Writer Laureate".

+++++


"After 'Timepiece'"


I got home from work and Jeez it was such
a long day I can tell you and I looked at the
kitchen clock and it said Ten to eight and I
thought Wait a minute that means I haven't
been at work because Ten to eight is the time
I go to work so I quickly cooked some eggs for
breakfast and did the dishes and I looked at the
clock and still it said Ten to eight, so I thought Jeez
I better get going if I'm gonna catch that bus
but then I remembered I hadn't fed the cat
so I gave Molly her biscuits and then I thought
Hell I'm gonna be late but then I looked at the
clock again and it still said Ten to eight so I
breathed a huge sigh of relief and ran out the
door just as the bus came round the corner,
but I didn't catch it, I thought What if I just
RUN UP INTO THE SKY? I did in fact run up
into the sky, into the clockless, catless,
workless cloud-canopies where I hide,
and it is silent, silent.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The Pretentious Poet #2: Robert Sullivan

New Zealand Gerald’s second Pretentious Poet is Robert Sullivan. According to the New Zealand Book Council, Sullivan “has emerged as a significant Maori poet, publishing several collections and featuring in key anthologies. His writing explores dimensions of contemporary urban experience, including local racial and social issues. His writing has a postmodern feel, where history and mythology, individual and collective experience, become areas of refined focus.”

+++++

Tahi.
The first thing I do is look up a book about history,
or maybe a reference book (I’m a librarian), have a bit of a read,
and then I write poems that begin like this:

According to his entry in the New Zealand Encyclopedia of 1966,
Sir Algernon walked around with the feathers of the last Huia in his cap . . .

Rua.
A Pakeha woman once said to me: “You’re just copying stuff
out of books and calling it poetry, aren’t you?”

I said: “The Moa is held up as an example of Maori
exterminating a food resource.”

She said: “Now surely you’re just having a laugh.
My 8 year old’s poetry is more original than that.”

How could I make her understand? I said:

“The Giant Eagle had a wingspan of three metres —
its main food was moa. It was the world’s
largest eagle — the youngest set of bones found so far
is five hundred years old.”

But she walked away before I’d finished.
She would never understand my attempts
to draw the attention of Pakeha to their own
literary and customary heritage.

Toru.
I read a Marxist history of London by George Rudé.
Lemony Snicket recently completed A Series of Unfortunate Events.
The Cliffs Notes on The Odyssey is so poetic — it reminds me of my poems.

Wha.
What I like to do best is rewrite history.
I make stuff up like a warrior-laden
waka travelling up the Thames
in the hull of a steamer called Troy which
leads to Governor Heke ruling the British Empire.

A Maori man once said to me:
“Your understanding of history
is as outdated as the books you read.
You’re living in a fantasy world
That’s sustained by Pakeha poetasters.”

I said: “Palestine free! Rhodesia free! South Africa free! Kenya free!
India free! Canada free! Ireland free! Australia free! West Indies free! Aotearoa free!”

But he walked away before I’d finished.
He would never understand my attempts
to draw the attention of Maori to their own
literary and customary heritage.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

The Pretentious Poet #1: Vincent O'Sullivan



New Zealand Gerald is proud to present the first in a new series of posts showcasing New Zealand's finest poetic talents. "The Pretentious Poet" series condenses the genius of NZ's leading poetic lights into a single poem: a distillation of their greatest hits — and misses.

The honour of being New Zealand Gerald's first Pretentious Poet goes to Vincent O'Sullivan, whose most recent collection of poetry is The movie may be slightly different (Victoria University Press, 2011).

According to his publisher, "The movie may be slightly different offers a rich harvest of recent poems displaying the wit, intellectual agility and arresting beauty for which Vincent O'Sullivan is renowned."

It certainly provided a rich harvest for New Zealand Gerald. Now, dear readers, sit back and enjoy "The Pretentious Poet #1: Vincent O'Sullivan". 


+++++

I’m gonna give you “God” in the first line —
He always stands for anything I can’t explain
which is a lot more than I can.

Coupe du Monde is French, which goes well
with Latin canis tags — ask God for help if you don’t get it.

The movie of this poem will never be made
but I'll take you through the storyboard anyway.

We open on . . . Sundays. I’m so old I can . . .
No, it’s too painful. God, are You there yet?

As the fat, boss-eyed mama shattered the bead curtain
I almost dropped the relic of St Peter she wanted 6,000 euros for.
It was his coccyx; it smelled of ambergris.

The mama babbled something in Italian and I answered in
Ancient Greek: “Gnothi seauton.” Her reply came crisp,
Like a gala apple: “Vaffanculo!” She wasn’t a saint.

I read today that tutae means “shit” and felt full of myself.

I once dined with God on squid ink linguine in San Marino.
It was an electric, erotic experience.
I wouldn’t let Him pay — I’ve made a fortune using Him in my poems.
As we left He said: "I love your poetry. It really speaks to Me." 

Monday, June 27, 2011

EMA: “New Zealand can be minor-free by 2050”

by Nicolas Fouquet, New Zealand Gerald’s chief political commentator. Additional distorting by Augustus Finknottle.

The embattled Employers and Manufacturers Association looks set to cause further controversy this week after the leaking of an EMA government briefing document entitled Make Money, not Babies.

The 134-page report outlines radical plans to encourage young New Zealand women to undergo “productivity-realignment surgery” upon leaving school, so as to “maximise their workplace performance” and “outsource the cost-inefficient process of bearing and rearing children”.

The proposals call for an unprecedented raft of industry and government subsidies for women who sign up to the scheme, which is to be called “Babysaver”. These include free tertiary tuition, guaranteed employment and/or deployment on UN peacekeeping missions, and generous grants towards a first home.

According to the document, “The inefficiency of menstruating women in the workforce, the tremendous resources wasted on educating minors, and the cumulative effects of brain drain” mean that the “overall benefit-cost ratio for each child born in New Zealand is 0.4 at best”.

To turn this situation around, the government should invest those resources in attracting “the best talent from around the globe” by recruiting young people “raised and educated in other countries”. Female new arrivals to New Zealand would be given free productivity-realignment surgery as part of a revamped “Welcome Package” which would also feature fast-tracked citizenship and lifetime EMA membership.

The resulting savings on “obstetric and paediatric healthcare, child and youth services, kindergartens and schools” would be used to fund attractive salary packages for migrants, yielding a “substantially superior overall return on taxpayer investment”.

If the government adopts all the recommendations contained in Make Money, not Babies, the EMA is confident that New Zealand will be “minor-free by 2050” and one of the world’s best-performing economies.

The leaked document is likely to provoke further anger against the EMA in a week that has seen demonstrators hurl (unused) tampons at its Auckland office in protest against the inflammatory remarks made by the association’s CEO, Alasdair Thompson, last Thursday. Thompson, who is also the country’s most famous after-dinner speaker, told a talkback radio host that women were less productive in the workforce because of their periods and child-bearing tendencies.

While Green Party co-leader and Australian Russel Norman criticized the EMA’s proposals as being “shithouse”, the Prime Minister’s office described the document as “not without merit”.

Meanwhile, Council of Trade Unions president Helen Kelly confirmed Sunday that she had been confronted by Thompson in 2009 about her relationship with John Key, in Washington, DC.

At a dinner at McCormick & Schmick’s restaurant – about which Thompson reportedly quipped: “The name alone is a mouthful” – Thompson approached Kelly and allegedly made lewd comments about the relationship she had with Key, who married his wife Bronagh when he and the First Lady were both teenagers.

When asked to comment on the allegations the Prime Minister’s office described them as “not not without merit”.

According to the New Zealand Herald’s source, who was present at the dinner, “[Thompson] asked [Kelly] what the relationship was between her and John Key. There was sexual innuendo. Then he said he asked John Key, the last time he saw him, [if] he [Key] fancied Helen.”

The source said Kelly was visibly upset by the comments and told Thompson: “That’s disgusting.”

As Kelly walked away, Thompson allegedly shouted: “It’s a joke. You’re beautiful, you know.” According to the Herald, Kelly has confirmed the account. She would not comment further on the incident.

The EMA did comment on Thompson’s latest gaffe, dismissing it as a bit of harmless fun. In an unprecedented move, Thompson will today be asked to explain himself to the board without the aid of sexist jokes and is no longer allowed to speak to female members of the media.

But it’s not all doom and gloom for Thompson: he is now more in demand than ever as an after-dinner speaker and is about to embark on a 6-month nationwide tour of working men’s clubs.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

A conversation with author Dominic Fahey, the “Great Dictator”

A New Zealand Gerald exclusive

Dominic Fahey, author of the eagerly anticipated Healing Hitler: A Reiki Approach to Understanding the Founder of the Third Reich, is a writer unlike all the others I’ve met in a career spanning 20 years. For one thing, he claims not to have written or typed a single word since he burned down his high school at the tender age of 13.

“Ah, those were the days,” recalls Fahey. “Nobody could prove it was me, of course. It was while I was watching the fire from a secure vantage point that I had a sort of epiphany – I realized that I had to become a great dictator.”

And so began Fahey’s life-long habit of forcing people in his vicinity to write down everything he says, whenever he gets the urge to oralize. It wasn’t long before he acquired the nickname “Little Hitler”, which could not be more appropriate: Fahey is 5’ 2” and, when dictating, gesticulates in a style that instantly brings to mind the Scourge of the Jews.

Fahey admits to having what he calls a “not soft but not hard either” spot for Austria’s most infamous export. He agrees that he was a monster, but stresses that he was a misunderstood monster.

“I was astonished to find that no one had approached Hitler from the Reiki angle before,” Fahey says. “My book proves that Reiki is the key to understanding the Führer. I discovered some amazing things during my research trip to Berlin [funded by Creative New Zealand]. Things like the fact that Hitler had what I call a großen Mutter (Big Mother) complex, and that he burned his first book at the age of 2. Stuff like that.”

Fahey digresses for a moment to reveal that his own mother is an extraordinarily tall woman. Gertie Fahey is 6’ 5” in her nylons, he tells me, and used to have a job cleaning the eaves of Grey Lynn villas.

“Poor old mum has never really been altogether there up top,” he chuckles. “In her 50s she started cleaning people’s eaves without asking them first. Caused all sorts of trouble. In the end I had to put her in a home. Have you ever been to Jervois Rest Home & Hospital? Their eaves are the cleanest eaves you’ll ever see. They have to tie her down at night or she’d be cleaning them 24/7, bless her size 16s.”

Fascinated by that image, I asked him to explain what a Big Mother complex was.

“It’s quite simple really. Basically Hitler loved his mother, Klara, madly. When she died of breast cancer on December 21st, 1907, young Adolf was devastated. The attending doctor said he had never seen anyone so overcome with grief.

“Adolf became so incensed at the failure of Western medicine to cure his mother that he forced the doctor to burn all his medical textbooks at gunpoint. He then convinced himself that his mother (who was Austria’s first Reiki Master) was dictating to him from beyond the grave. Mrs Hitler had also managed to double in height post mortem, as it were. When she left this earthly realm she was 5’ 4” but when she merged with the 'mysterious atmosphere' (the most common translation of reiki) she shot up to 10’ 8”.”

The exact contents of Healing Hitler will remain under wraps until August 2nd, the 77th anniversary of Hitler becoming Führer of Germany. I asked Fahey what he thought readers would make of the book, the second in his “Great Dictators” series, which began 5 years ago with Ministering to Mussolini: How Benito Benefited from Chinese Medicine.

“They’ll love it,” Fahey says with the conviction of the dictators whose dependencies on alternative medicine he has made it his life’s work to bring to the light.

“Those of them who practise Reiki will be able to get a feel for the book via an exclusive download from the mysterious atmosphere,” he concluded with a wink.

Friday, May 20, 2011

It's a kind of magic: Budget 2011

Bill English has always considered himself to be the mutt’s nuts, and with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp, it must be conceded that there is something top-doggish about his appearance. But the reality is very different. As he staccato barked his way through his third budget yesterday, he resembled nothing so much as a career con man whose latest parole had been granted only on the condition that he learn how to read.

A “remedial English” was what was being dangled in front of us yesterday, a carrot attached to a stick attached to a spin-doctored John Key. Now remedial English lessons are of course pitched at the lowest common denominator. They rely heavily on stories – students are read stories, they read stories and they write stories. Kids are forever being told to use their imagination, and the stories judged to be the best by teachers are invariably those that are the most imaginative. The very imaginative story Bill English told us yesterday starred the nameless wizards at the Treasury, a sort of Hogwarts for adults, who have conjured up the following happy ending:
And lo, GDP growth will reach 4 per cent in the coming year, followed by 3 per cent and 2.7 per cent rises. No less than 170,000 new jobs will be created in the next four years. In 2015 the country will be back in surplus and everyone will live happily ever after. 
It sounds rather like the Book of Revelation in reverse: lots of suspiciously exact figures and a promise of Heaven, rather than Hell, on Earth. This week Stephen Hawking, long hailed as the greatest mind on the planet, was quoted as saying:
I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark.
Unfortunately, we live in a universe in which some components of the human brain stop working but do not stop overall brain function. The technical names for these components are “common sense”, “higher reasoning” and “grip on reality”. Bill English’s budget is an assault on all of these. The Government is manufacturing a positive ending in the same way reality TV producers do. “It’s a kind of magic,” National is singing through Auto-Tune in our karaoke parliament, “There can be only one.”

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

New Zealand's best unknown poet?

Last week I stumbled upon something extraordinary in the Ellerslie Book Exchange. This fine establishment always rewards the patient browser, and as I scanned the NZ poetry shelf my eye was drawn to a thin duodecimo volume clad in worn red leather. My first thought was that I was in the presence of an errant copy of the little red book, Quotations from Chairman Mao. As a fumbling undergraduate I had bought this atrocity because I was under the impression that reading it was vital if one wanted to know what the “C” word was all about. My faith in the book’s seminality was so strong that I didn’t even flick through it before purchase, and it was only on dipping into it at home that I realized that it had been written by a man who made Baron Munchausen look like Honest Abe. Here, for example, is Mao on the masses:

To link oneself with the masses, one must act in accordance with the needs and wishes of the masses . . . It often happens that objectively the masses need a certain change, but subjectively they are not yet conscious of the need, not yet willing or determined to make the change. In such cases, we should wait patiently . . .

                              “The United Front in Cultural Work” (30 October 1944)

Mao presumably felt he was acting in accordance with the needs and wishes of the masses when he orchestrated the deaths of roughly 55 million of them during his regime. Wait patiently indeed.

My historical relations with little red books not being what you might call cordial, it was with some relief that I found that the diminutive spine of the one in front of me read “I.A.M. POEMS”. And indeed it was.

“I.A.M.”, I learned upon opening the volume, stood for Imogen Amelia Marsh. The book was a collection of her poetry and had been printed in Hawera in 1951. No publisher was given and the printing and binding had a very bespoke look about them. Underneath the year, set in smaller type, appeared “3 of 10”, which convinced me that the book in my hands was one of an edition of only ten, and that it had been privately printed and bound, possibly at the instigation of I.A.M. herself.

How did this 60-year-old little-read red book from Hawera come to be in the Ellerslie Book Exchange? Who was I.A.M.? What was her poetry like? Of these questions only the last seemed to be in any way immediately answerable, and so I licked the old index finger, turned over the title page, and was confronted with this:

"The End of Nothing"

The leaves fell like so many lead balloons
That autumn; his crime of the century,
His litany of lies, left truth marooned
Like the naked trees in a leafy sea.
She didn’t need spring to feel creative,
She made a papier-mâché effigy,
His happy smiling face looked elated
Atop a pyre of leaves. The liturgy
Of his poems she then glued to his skin.
The flames rose, destroying his lying art,
His words changed into confessions of sin,
The sweated nothings grunted to his tart.
She left him forever, to die and smoulder;
A leaf landed unfelt on her cold shoulder.

It was in sonnet form, yes, but it was a sort of anti-sonnet. Sonnets of course were originally written by a man to a woman and sang the praises of the addressee in the hope that they she would admit the man into her favour, as it were.

I will not record any more of my own reactions to “The End of Nothing” at this juncture. Instead, I’d like to ask my sextet of loyal readers what they think of the poem. I am currently pursuing all avenues in an effort to find out more about I.A.M., and will of course post any details as they come to hand. Should “The End of Nothing” be considered the start of something by you, dear readers, more of I.A.M.’s poetry will follow. 

Monday, April 18, 2011

The Death of the Author Robert Greene and the Birth of Shakespeare Criticism

To commemorate the 400th anniversary of Christopher Marlowe’s death in 1993, Anthony Burgess published a reconstruction of Marlowe’s double life as playwright and spy in the form of the novel A Dead Man in Deptford. Late in the book Marlowe is called away to Scotland on “Service” business, leaving behind “an aspiring playman” with whom he had been writing “The Contention Between the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster”, a play with “a most incommodious title which later would be changed to Henry VI Part One.” The narrator reports that the work was completed “with a kind of speed of insolence” by one “Will of Warwickshire”.

In the Author’s Note, Burgess makes “a certain claim to secondary scholarship” – he completed a thesis on Marlowe for his BA in 1940 – and he assures his readers that all of the historical facts in the novel are verifiable. One of the few things that all scholars of early Shakespeare agree on, however, is that the play printed in the 1623 First Folio of Shakespeare as The first Part of Henry the Sixt, hereafter referred to as “1 Henry VI”, was never called “The Contention Between the Two Houses of York and Lancaster”, and with this confusion Burgess provides proof of his own assertion that “the virtue of the historical novel is its vice – the flatfooted affirmation of possibility as fact”.

One would obviously not expect to encounter this “virtuous vice” of historical fiction in Shakespeare criticism, but it nevertheless permeates the numerous studies published every year. There is one main reason for this: the extreme paucity of verifiable facts – about Shakespeare himself and about the dates and authorship of his plays. Without historical facts, historical fictions have proliferated. In A Dead Man in Deptford Burgess deliberately keeps Shakespeare on the fringes of his novel about the life and death of Marlowe. The narrator is all too conscious that “[Shakespeare’s] is another story and its nudging and shouldering into this of Kit’s harms wholeness and bids break the frame”. In this way, what is generally considered to be one of the greatest rivalries in the history of English drama stays out of the spotlight. But Burgess could not pass up the opportunity to depict the rivalry between the now all-but-forgotten playwright Robert Greene and Shakespeare, a rivalry which, unlike that between Marlowe and Shakespeare, there is extant evidence for. It is with this rivalry, or rather the description of it in the pamphlet entitled Greene’s Groatsworth of Witte, bought with a million of Repentance (Stationers’ Register 20 September 1592), that the biggest literary-critical industry the world has ever seen came into being.

The Groatsworth claims to be the swan song of Greene, which would date its composition shortly before his death on 3 September 1592. Greene’s demise was said to have been brought about by the sickness he developed after a “banquet” of pickled herring and Rhenish wine which he shared with Thomas Nashe. The Groatsworth includes a letter to a trio of playwrights, usually thought to be Marlowe, George Peele and Nashe, warning them of the emergence of a young pretender.

Base minded men all three of you, if by my miserie you be not warnd: for unto none of you (like mee) sought those burres to cleave: those Puppets (I meane) that spake from our mouths, those Anticks garnisht in our colours. Is it not strange, that I, to whom they all have beene beholding: is it not like that you, to whome they all have beene beholding, shall (were yee in that case as I am now) bee both at once of them forsaken? Yes trust them not: for there is an upstart Crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tygers hart wrapt in a Players hyde, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blanke verse as the best of you: and beeing an absolute Johannes fac totum, is in his owne conceit the onely Shake-scene in a countrey. O that I might intreat your rare wits to be imploied in more profitable courses: and let those Apes imitate your past excellence, and never more acquaint them with your admired inventions.

While most scholars, past and present, agree that the “upstart Crow”, the “onely Shake-scene in a countrey” is Shakespeare and all agree that “Tygers heart wrapt in a Players hyde” is a distortion of the line appearing in 3 Henry VI as “O tiger’s heart wrapp’d in a woman’s hide!”, they are by no means unanimous on what the pamphlet is saying about him.

On the face of it, Greene’s authorship of the Groatsworth seems to be an open-and-shut case; his name is there in the full title, a testimony that survived virtually unchallenged well into the twentieth century. There have, however, been a few dissenting critics, the most vocal of whom recently has been John Jowett. If, as he contends, the author of the Groatsworth – specifically the author of the letter to the playwrights – was not in fact Greene but Henry Chettle, “who by his own account edited and transcribed Greene’s papers”, the earliest piece of Shakespeare “criticism” was a forgery. If we cannot be sure who wrote the pamphlet that has been employed as the cornerstone of every hypothesis for the early Shakespeare canon and chronology since 1778, any “certainties” established by critics concerning the genesis of the Henry VI plays have been built on an uncertain foundation.

Jowett begins his article with a critical evaluation of Warren B. Austin’s 1969 computer-aided study of the authorship of the Groatsworth. This is a series of comparisons of word frequencies in the Greene and Chettle corpora which uncovers an array of statistical data in support of Chettle being the author of the pamphlet. Barring the discovery of new evidence, irrefutable proof is, of course, unobtainable but Austin’s work should establish in the minds of contemporary scholars that irrefutable proof of Greene’s authorship of the Groatsworth is equally unobtainable. Jowett sees the need to ask “what further internal and contextual considerations might be adduced to clarify the nature of Chettle’s part in putting the pamphlet together”. His process of clarification shows how the pamphlet’s jibe at Shakespeare (he is called a “Johannes fac totum” or “Jack of All Trades”) is in fact a most apt epithet for Chettle himself.

In 1592 Chettle falsely signed his epistle to Anthony Munday’s Il Gerileon with Nashe’s initials, “T. N.”, a forgery which he confessed (while simultaneously blaming the printers) in his Kind-Heart’s Dream. He was obliged to publish that work three months after the appearance of the Groatsworth in an attempt to quash the charges of his contemporaries that either he or Nashe had fabricated it. Nashe, Jowett explains, had no case to answer; he was dwelling out of London, in Croydon, at the time. Only Chettle had access to Greene’s papers, the duty of transcribing Greene’s Groatsworth, and that of “preparing” it for publication. There are no other suspects.

Jowett is careful to keep Chettle’s actions in their original context. Certainly, the “notion of intellectual property had weak foundations at the time”. Although property rights were then held by the Stationer, not the author, this clearly does not absolve Chettle. As Jowett notes,

the Groatsworth itself provides excellent firsthand testimony that the concept of plagiarism did exist, that it could be extended even to plays that had not reached print, and even located between the dramatist and actors who realised the text in performance.

Returning to the Groatsworth’s remarks concerning Shakespeare, the acceptance of the possibility that Chettle rather than Greene made them must complicate our reading of an already difficult text.

Once Greene’s authorship is denied, we find the passage deprived of its correlative in experience. The speaker is not actually the failed and bitter dramatist Greene but an imagined representation of him. A key “fact” of literary history has evaporated. But it has not disappeared; it is replaced with the ambiguous simul[a]crum of a fact. This, then, is the problem. The delegitimized diatribe against Shakespeare will not quietly go away.

But just what is this “delegitimized diatribe” saying about Shakespeare? Opinions have tended to cluster around two poles: either that Shakespeare is being charged with plagiarism, specifically by Greene, of his own work, or that Shakespeare, the young actor-prodigy, has ideas above his station and is beginning to write his own material. The first surmise is championed by Edmund Malone in his 1787 Dissertation on the Three Parts of King Henry VI, tending to shew that those plays were not originally written by Shakespeare, a work that has been called “the fountainhead of disintegrationist theories”. Malone’s interpretation follows his citation of the Groatsworth passage quoted above:

That Shakespeare was here alluded to, cannot, I think be doubted. But what does the writer mean by calling him “a crow beautified by our feathers?” My solution is, that Greene and Peele were the joint-authors of the quarto plays, entitled The first part of the Contention of the two famous houses of Yorke and Lancaster, &c and The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of Yorke, &c, or that Greene was the author of one, and Peele of the other.

The flights of Malone’s fancy aside, there can be no doubt that the three men Malone refers to knew of each other and of each other’s work – the close quarters of London’s theatrical community would have ensured that. Greene and Peele were university men, whereas Shakespeare’s official education had ended at Stratford Grammar School. Peele had taken the degree of Master of Arts at Oxford in 1579; Greene took the same degree at Cambridge in 1583. As an established actor turning his hand to playwriting, the unqualified Shakespeare was, it seemed to the author of the Groatsworth, breaking too many of the established playwrights’ rules and, according to Malone, appropriating and improving their plays.

Going by the dates of Greene’s and Peele’s first printed works, 1583 and 1584 respectively, Malone thinks “it is highly probable” that the originals of 2 and 3 Henry VI, Contention and True Tragedy, were written between 1583 and 1591. And further: “I suspect they were produced in 1588 or 1589”. At this point he stiffens his resolve:

We have undoubted proofs that Shakespeare was not above working on the materials of other men. His Taming of the Shrew, his King John, and other plays, render any argument on that point unnecessary.

These “undoubted proofs” obviously do not need any elaboration as far as Malone is concerned. But what do they consist of? What exactly does “working on the materials of other men” entail? If Malone means Shakespeare adopted and adapted the plots of other men, without ever inserting large chunks of their verse verbatim into his own, then Malone would be in agreement with the modern consensus. But it is clear from his Dissertation that this is not the case.

Malone holds that the line famously adapted from 3 Henry VI in the Groatsworth, “O tiger’s heart wrapp’d in a woman’s hide!”, was originally penned by Greene; it appears identically in the 1595 octavo of True Tragedy. Greene, to emphasise his contempt for the “upstart crow” Shakespeare after his shameless bombasting of the elder playwrights’ Contention and True Tragedy into the First Folio’s 2 and 3 Henry VI, redirected his own line (according to Malone) at Shakespeare, in order to publicly expose his plagiarism. Shakespeare, Malone tells us, carried out what is called in Italian a “Rifacimento” or rewriting of the old plays.

[Shakespeare] did not content himself with writing new beginnings to the acts; he new-versified, he new-modelled, he transposed many of the parts, and greatly amplified and improved the whole. Several lines, however, and even whole speeches which he thought sufficiently polished, he accepted, and introduced to his own work, without any or with very slight, alterations.
In the present edition, all those lines which he adapted without any alteration, are printed in the usual manner; those speeches which he altered or expanded, are distinguished by inverted commas; and to all the lines entirely composed by himself, asterisks are prefixed. The total number of lines in our author’s Second and Third Part of K. Henry VI. is six thousand and forty-three: of these as I conceive, 1771 lines were written by some author who preceded Shakespeare; 2373 were formed by him on the foundation laid by his predecessors; and 1899 lines were entirely his own composition.

Malone’s precision is still disarming more than 200 years later. Astonishing as his remarks sound today, the essential tenets of Malone’s Dissertation were not toppled by a more complete hypothesis for nearly 150 years. While critics after Malone begged to differ on the exact number of lines in the Henry VI plays Shakespeare was responsible for, the “facts” that the two “old” plays Contention and True Tragedy served as Shakespeare’s sources for the plays that appear in the Folio, and that Shakespeare had plagiarized nearly 2,000 lines from those plays by Greene and Peele, were not convincingly refuted until 1929.

In that year Peter Alexander published his Shakespeare’s ‘Henry VI’ and ‘Richard III’ which concludes that 2 and 3 Henry VI were actually composed before Contention and True Tragedy. Alexander’s study and the less trumpeted contemporaneous work of Madeleine Doran dramatically turned the tide of scholarly opinion. The Henry VI plays, according to Alexander, were conceived and written by Shakespeare alone. The so-called “old” plays were in actuality “younger” ones – pirated versions patched together by actors and recorders for commercial gain. Alexander’s Shakespeare, far from being the agent of plagiarism, was, in reality, the victim of it.

Alexander built his argument on the same foundation – his interpretation of the Groatsworth passage – on which Malone had built his. He exposes Malone’s suppression of Thomas Tyrwhitt’s full opinion on the Groatsworth (published in the George Steevens/Samuel Johnson edition of Shakespeare in 1778) as a piece of critical skulduggery. It emerges that Malone selectively quoted his contemporary “who was the first not only to direct the attention of scholars to the punning allusion to Shakespeare, but to point out its true interpretation”. Tyrwhitt had written:

Though the objections raised [by Theobald and Warburton] to the genuineness of the three plays of Henry the Sixth have been fully considered and answered by Dr. Johnson, it may not be amiss to add here, from a contemporary writer, a passage [from the Groatsworth], which . . . points at Shakespeare as the author of them.

Alexander shows how the only problems Malone’s Dissertation solves are ones that it creates itself, that

there remains no excuse for continuing to accept Malone’s complete misinterpretation of Greene’s letter. It must be rejected as not only a contradiction to Greene’s very words, but as framed to agree with what are only Malone’s false assumptions.

But as we have seen, the opinions of the Groatsworth may well be those of Chettle and not Greene. After citing the pamphlet as evidence that “Greene regarded 3 Henry VI as a work by Shakespeare”, Alexander goes on to make his own false assumption that, if 2 and 3 Henry VI are all Shakespeare’s, then 1 Henry VI is as well.

Both Malone in 1787 and Alexander in 1929 caused critical sensations because of the way they interpreted a 1592 allusion to Shakespeare which they believed to have been written by Greene. They both changed the way the world thought about Shakespeare’s beginnings as a playwright and profoundly influenced the thinking of subsequent generations.

Re-integrating “disintegration”

E. K. Chambers, the most influential Shakespearean scholar of his generation, delivered a lecture to the British Academy in 1924 entitled “The Disintegration of Shakespeare”, in which he inveighed against what he saw as the undisciplined attempts of some of his contemporaries to “disintegrate” the Shakespeare canon. Chambers used the occasion to dissect publicly the criticism of J. M. Robertson and John Dover Wilson, “disintegrating critics” who, though their methodologies and conclusions are completely different, both insist that Shakespeare revised, to varying degrees, the work of other playwrights. Many of the plays in the accepted Shakespeare canon, they held, contain the work of other playwrights like Marlowe, Chapman, Greene and Peele.

The passion Chambers felt for the good reputation of his (which he expands at every opportunity into “our”) Shakespeare erupts into his prose, and the lecture consistently employs emotive language to emphasise the polar opposition he sees between “us” (himself and his audience) and “them” (the “disintegrators”). The opening of the second paragraph, for example, suggests that the claims of the disintegrators should have the same physical effect on us as those who maintain that the most famous plays in the English language were not written by William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon:

I propose to consider certain critical tendencies which, in their extreme manifestations, offer results hardly less perturbing than those with which the Baconians and their kin would make our flesh creep.

Chambers then implies that the theories – “heresies, if you will” – of these “certain critical tendencies” are blasphemous; that the disintegrators are going against God with their attacks on Shakespeare. With remarks like these Chambers is hardly presenting an objective and disinterested critical point of view. But it is easy to imagine his audience transfixed by his magisterial tone, which seems to confer upon his words a divine authority. He effectively turns a critical debate over the limits of the Shakespeare canon into a Holy War and enters the lists like a crusader.

It is surprising to say the least to find the scholar who introduced the terms “disintegration” and “disintegrationist” into the Shakespeare critical lexicon advocating six years later that Shakespeare revised the work of other playwrights to create 1 Henry VI.

Shakespeare’s presence is only clear to me in [2.4], the Temple Garden scene, and [4.2], an unrhymed Talbot scene . . . These I take to be new scenes, written in or later than 1594. Probably both replaced scenes of the original play; almost certainly [2.4] did, as later passages carry on the motive of the roses . . . As to the authorship of the original play, I feel no assurance. If Shakespeare is in it at all, it must be in [1.1, 1.3; 2.5; 3.1, 3.4; 4.1, 4.4; 5.1, 5.4. 94–end]. The evidence of F is not very strong here, since clearly by 1623 the piece was regarded as an integral part of his Henry VI.

Robertson and Dover Wilson, the disintegrators who bear the brunt of Chambers’s critical and religious opprobrium in his 1924 essay, constructed their theories on the same kind of foundation Chambers laid in his discussion of the authorship of 1 Henry VI six years later: personal impressions of style. This is not to say that there are no major differences in the methodologies of the three critics – rather that when attribution techniques are more subjective than objective, radical and conservative authorship hypotheses alike will always be ultimately grounded in the critic’s own idiosyncratic impressions of Shakespeare’s works and of what he would have and would not have written.

It is important to stress at this juncture that Chambers can be distinguished from his predecessors, his contemporaries, and indeed most of his successors, by his espousal of an inclusive rather than exclusive philosophy concerning Shakespeare criticism: after railing against the disintegration of the canon in his lecture, in his conclusion he actually encourages his audience to be thankful for the efforts of the disintegrators. While there is certainly an element of theatricality in Chambers’s remarks – he is rather like a priest concluding a fire-and-brimstone sermon with “Lord forgive them, for they know not what they do” – there is also the unmistakeable conviction that our knowledge of Shakespeare is ultimately advanced by critical “heresy”.

We ought to be very grateful to Mr. Robertson and Mr. Dover Wilson. We had come to think that all the critical questions about Shakespeare were disposed of; the biographical facts and even a little more than the facts chronicled, the canon and the apocrypha fixed, the chronological order determined, the text established; that there was not much left to be done with Shakespeare, except perhaps to read him. They have shown us that it is not so; and we must now go over the ground again, and turn our notional assents, with whatever modifications may prove justified, into real assents. We have all the spring joy of re-digging a well-tilled garden.

His words are as relevant today as they were 80 years ago. Reading across the broad spectrum of contemporary Shakespeare criticism one quickly discovers that the complacency Chambers nobly admitted he himself was party to has persisted into the twenty-first century.

The conclusion of Chambers’s essay is a most unexpected – and therefore all the more effective – volte face. It is also a brilliant piece of rhetorical structuring, whereby the assimilation of “them” is promoted as the best means of identifying and shrugging off the smugness Chambers believes “we” (himself and his audience) had come to feel about their knowledge of Shakespeare. With his final paragraph Chambers suddenly begins to refill the literary-critical divide separating “us” and “them” that he had been excavating throughout his lecture, and the borderline between the two camps becomes harder to discern. We begin to see why the scholar who thundered against what he saw as the disintegration of the Shakespeare canon was, just six years later, able to disintegrate 1 Henry VI in the fashion quoted above.

The critics who use the term “disintegrationist” today generally do so only with the opprobrium found at the opening of Chambers’s lecture. They show no awareness of his last-minute exhortation of his audience to assimilate the work of disintegrationists like Robertson and Dover Wilson. In Defining Shakespeare: ‘Pericles’ as Test Case, MacDonald P. Jackson refocuses the ambivalence which Chambers had built into his concept to suggest how we should best apply it to attribution studies in the twenty-first century.
 
Every disintegrationist finding (supposed to be bad) has its corresponding integrationist results (supposed to be good). Identifying Hand D’s pages of Sir Thomas More as Shakespeare’s may in one respect separate them from the rest of the manuscript, but it connects them with the plays of the First Folio. Determining that some scenes of the Folio’s All Is True, or Henry VIII are by Fletcher joins the play to Fletcher, as well as to Shakespeare. Belated recognition that in The Two Noble Kinsmen, absent from the First Folio, Shakespeare collaborated with Fletcher has resulted in its inclusion in Shakespeare’s Collected Works, as well as Fletcher’s. Scholarly research on All Is True and The Two Noble Kinsmen allows us to consider them together as Fletcher–Shakespeare collaborations. If George Wilkins wrote the first two acts of Pericles, this material augments his meagre literary and dramatic output: he was part-author of a masterpiece. A Middleton who helped Shakespeare on Timon of Athens gains in stature. The opening act of 1 Henry VI would be a significant addition to Thomas Nashe’s writing for the theatre. And whatever our discoveries about how many playwrights wrote them, the texts we analyse are neither more nor less integrated as scripts for performance than they always were.

My clarification of Chambers’s original concept of disintegration coupled with Jackson’s demonstration of the concept’s positive consequences for our understanding of the limits of the Shakespeare canon should relieve the term of the stigma it attracted in the twentieth century. Most contemporary critics, unlike Chambers, are not concerned about the very real problems in the Shakespeare canon and chronology that remain unsolved or, like the Chambers of the beginning of his lecture, are righteously indignant at the attempts of other critics to refine our understanding of what Shakespeare did and did not write.

The vast majority of Shakespeare critics do not concern themselves with the author(ity) theorizing of the kind pioneered by Roland Barthes in his 1967 essay “The Death of the Author” and the idea that a traditionally understood authorial Shakespeare was not the ultimate source of the world’s most popular plays has never gained wide acceptance in Shakespeare criticism. The Shakespeare authorship debate is contested, for the main part, on a very different plane, which has been described as the “psychobiological”, and the sweeping claim made by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, for example, that “the text belongs to language, and not to the sovereign and generating author” is rarely given house room in Shakespeare criticism. But it would be wrong to ignore the wider ramifications of what “author” and “text” signify today in discussions of the authorship of Elizabethan plays. Contemporary criticism on the changing historical conceptions of authorship and how particular eras and social structures influence the politics of authorship can inform our understanding of authorship in Shakespeare’s day, and any investigation into who can be said to have authored his plays must always be conscious of the relevance of these issues to Shakespeare studies in the twenty-first century.