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September 11th, living in the aftermath

Twenty-four years after the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon, we are still living in the aftermath. Fully grown adults have lived their entire lives under the constructions of the War on Terror. ‘Freedom itself is under attack’[1], said George W. Bush, and he was not wrong. However, although the suicide bombers killed hundreds, it was state-administrations such as Bush’s who went after our freedoms. As the anniversary came again, I took a deep dive into texts written at or around the time, to give me some perspective on what happened, what alternatives there might have been and what we can do 24 years on.

Read more: September 11th – living in the aftermath

Why did it happen? Who was Bin Laden and Al Qaeda?

The story of what we now call ‘9-11’ often starts with the planes hitting the World Trade Centre (the Pentagon is rarely mentioned). But perhaps we should think of it more as part of an ongoing cycle of tit-for-tat, actions and consequences, imperialist intervention and blowback. We could start instead in 1998, with the suicide attacks outside the United States embassies in Nairobi and Dar Es Salaam, which killed hundreds and wounded thousands. Osama Bin Laden claimed responsibility. But we could go back further – to the US intervention in Somalia (‘Operation Restore Hope’), the alleged plan to partition Sudan (something which of course did happen in 2011) and the extradition and torture of four members of Islamic Jihad[2], all of which Bin Laden was reported as saying were the motivations for Al Qaeda’s massacres in East Africa.

September 11th should also not be mentioned without thinking about the Bill Clinton government’s appalling response to the embassy bombs, most notably blowing up the Al-Shifa pharmaceutical factory in Sudan. Instead of being a secret Al Qaeda chemical weapon factory, as the bungling idiots of the CIA claimed, Al-Shifa was exactly what it looked like: a plant producing half of Sudan’s pharmaceuticals. A year on from this illegal attack, Jonathan Belke, regional program manager for the Near East Foundation, wrote in The Boston Globe. It is worth quoting him in full just to reflect on the severity of the consequences:

“without the lifesaving medicine [the destroyed facilities] produced, Sudan’s death toll from the bombing has continued, quietly, to rise… Thus, tens of thousands of people – many of them children – have suffered and died from malaria, tuberculosis, and other treatable diseases… [Al-Shifa] provided affordable medicine for humans and all the locally available veterinary medicine in Sudan. It produced 90 percent of Sudan’s major pharmaceutical products… Sanctions against the Sudan make it impossible to import adequate amounts of medicines required to cover the serious gap left by the plant’s destruction… [T]he action taken by Washington on August 20, 1998, continues to deprive the people of Sudan of needed medicine. Millions must wonder how the International Court of Justice in The Hague will celebrate this anniversary”.

Twenty-seven years later, the event is almost entirely forgotten in the Western world.

The ICJ in Hague still not investigating Al Shifa

It seems fitting that Bush was friends with the Bin Laden family because there was a dialectic of a mutually reinforcing fundamentalism between Al Qaeda and the US state: a mirroring of Manichean visions. You are with us or against us; holy or pagan. Some reached for Samuel Huntingdon’s ‘Clash of Civilisations’ thesis by way of explanation. It was nonsense, of course. Interviewed in Campaign Against Racism and Fascism (CARF) magazine of January 2002, A. Sivanandan saw it differently: “What we are witnessing is not a clash of civilisations but the imposition of one civilisation on another, and the resistance that follows from that.” That the resistance was taking the form of Islamist parties and militias, he explained as the filling of an ideological void: “Since the communist parties died, since the post-independence nationalist projects of autonomous development foundered, people have had no alternative value system to turn to, no political agency to organise them. Against the ideology of global capitalism is only the ideology of religion – Mammon versus Mohammed.” He was talking of the Global South, but a similar process was happening in the countries of the North as well, where socialism, too, was dead, and nationalism and flags are staging a comeback in their various stars and stripes. As for the discourse that it was ‘pre-modern’ Islam versus ‘modern’ rationality and secularism, Noam Chomsky pointed out,

“The U.S. in fact, is one of the most extreme religious fundamentalist cultures in the world; not the state, but the popular culture. In the Islamic world, the most extreme fundamentalist state, apart from the Taliban, is Saudi Arabia, a U.S. client state since its origins …. The West is quite ecumenical in its choice of enemies. The criteria are subordination and service to power, not religion.”

George W. Bush and his ecunemical choice of friends … with Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah on Bush’s Texax ranch April 25, 2005

As for a starting point for Terror and the War thereon, we could go back even further, to the US proxy war against the socialists and Soviets in Afghanistan. Chomsky again:

 “The CIA … in the 1980s … joined Pakistani intelligence and others (Saudi Arabia, Britain, etc.) in recruiting, training, and arming the most extreme Islamic fundamentalists it could find to fight a ‘Holy War’ against the Russian invaders of Afghanistan.”

These ‘Afghanis’ (not actually from Afghanistan) began to believe they could establish an ideal Islamic state, particularly in those Muslim countries where American-allied regimes were in fact jahili (pagan). Bin Laden is quoted as saying Afghanistan was “the only Muslim country in the world”. My personal theory on him starts from the idea that he was a younger son of a rich, powerful family, meaning he had money but no power. Thus, he sets up his own non-state militia and would have loved to have taken over Saudi Arabia, purifying the holy sites with his brand of Islam, and settling some personal scores in the process. Eventually, once he sits at the top of a state with vast oil wealth, he can be accepted into the ‘international community’. If the latter was his plan, it was not so far-fetched – witness Gaddafi’s journey of redemption from world’s most wanted to recipient of a warm embrace from Tony Blair. Instead Bin Laden was shot dead in Pakistan and Gaddafi overthrown by his own people in another potential revolution gone horribly wrong that the West made worse with their interference.

But in the early years of the War on Terror we were more or less banned from speaking about motivations. The official story was that, “they hate our freedoms – our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other.” The quote is from a George Bush address to the nation, and variations on this theme about ‘them’, ‘hating our way of life’, was repeated ad nauseam by broadsheet and tabloid newspaper alike.

Many of us didn’t buy it. Chomsky was a prominent voice in the wilderness of ‘public intellectuals’ and media commentators. As he pointed out, “it is entirely typical for the major media, and the intellectual classes generally, to line up in support of power at a time of crises and try to mobilize the population for the same cause.” Arun Kundnani, writing a little later in 2007, observed that this hegemonic discourse reduces the causes of terrorism “to a specifically Islamic failure to adapt to modern values”, a “problem of Muslim backwardness”. He quotes Tony Blair from 2005, claiming in a typically post-truth way, that “Their cause is not founded on an injustice. It is founded on a belief, one whose fanaticism is such it can’t be moderated”. There could be no history, no politics, just an Islamic cultural deficit and a giant double standard. Quickly the attack on the Pentagon (a potentially justifiable target) was forgotten and everything came to be about the Twin Towers and the smouldering ground zero with the ‘American way of life’ as the greatest victim. ‘Terror’ became the justification for authoritarianism at home and imperialism abroad: the right for governments to deprive people of rights. In the UK they started immediately with asylum seekers. “Asylum seekers” was a relatively new term, and most people didn’t know what the word meant, with their only association being ‘insane asylums’. Refugees they sympathised with. Asylum seekers they feared.

The Blair government exploited this. On the first anniversary of the attacks, Amnesty International published a report, called ‘Rights Denied: the UK’s response to 11 September 2001’[3]. In December 2001 the UK government had passed the Anti-terrorism, Crime and Security Act (ATCSA). This allows the Home Secretary to certify someone as an ‘international terrorist’, if the Home Sec ‘believes’ or ‘suspects’ that the person is a terrorist, while Part 4 of ATCSA removed the right to refugee protection for refugees or asylum seekers certified as being ‘suspected international terrorists’. By the time of the Amnesty report, 11 people had been detained and only one named. All were non-UK nationals, most ‘if not all’ asylum-seekers or previously recognised as refugees. Two had ‘voluntarily’ left the UK, eight remained in detention either at Belmarsh or HMP Woodhill, and one, Mahmoud Abu Rideh, a 31 year old Palestinian refugee and torture victim had been moved, against all medical advice, to Broadmoor Psychiatric Hospital, because he had been self-harming and become suicidal in Belmarsh. One wonders why they decided to link asylum with terrorism when Al Qaeda operatives were hardly going to be coming into Britain in the back of a truck, but the legacy is painfully obvious. Few politicians make history. They are swept along by its trends, by the class forces to which their party political allegiance commits them. The modern state has always longed for panoptic omniscience, so New Labour’s ripping up of a few obstructions to the realisation of that dream was sailing with the wind behind them. In any case, government has less to do than ever. There are no industries to run, just public contracts to funnel into private hands. Ideas are generated by think tanks, speeches are written for them by researchers and consultants. The main skill MPs seem to need now is to be able to attend multiple dinner parties. But one job remains for the state to do in the neoliberal era, and that is control: policing, incarceration, surveillance, proscription. With private companies running the show, government is concerned with disciplining a population so that capital can continue to make profit. Thus, whatever the individual motivations, the Blair government succeeded in cementing the idea in the British psyche that all refugees are potential terrorists.

Post 2001, the ‘terror alert’ emergency has never got below critical. Thus, extreme and extraordinary measures must be put in place to deal with extremism. In the process, the state has institutionalised Islamophobia as central to its functioning.

Blair’s ‘can’t-be-moderated’, cultural-deficiency discourse about Islam was mirrored by ‘analysts’ in our media, who continually overplayed the 72 houris (mistranslated as ‘virgins’) as a motivation for Muslim suicide bombers. Kundnani points out that suicide bombings are not unique to Muslims, and have been used as a tactic by many different people (including “women and secular groups”) against military occupations in many different places and times, without the motivation of a religious “belief” of sexual rewards in heaven.

The mainstream line was thus ahistorical and racist. Ordinary Muslim people had to bear the brunt. As a child, growing up in the 1990s, I don’t remember people being racialised as ‘Muslims’. Racists would call all South Asian people the ‘P’ word but this was no more or less applied whether you were Hindu, Sikh or Muslim. This new racism was one that singled out Islam and separated the ‘good’ brown people from the ‘bad’ ones. It excludes and others: locks up without trial; kidnaps and sends to Guantanamo Bay, Abu Ghraib or the ‘dark’ sites around the world; shoots dead in broad daylight; tars with the potential of being the ’enemy within’ as anyone who identifies, or might be identified as, Muslim, who went through secondary school or a Western airport in those years will be all too aware.

The utility of this new racism is sadly obvious. Yes, it is a distraction – encouraging people to ‘punch down’ as the saying goes – but I think it is more than that too. The attack on migration has been the single most successful political project in the last 25 years. Where in the world are there not political parties (from centre-left to far right) competing to tighten borders, target migrants and drape themselves in the most national flags? What are the conditions that are encouraging this? According to an economist I heard the other day, we are moving to a world of zero-growth capitalism. Growth is impossible when climate disasters keep pushing up the price of food and energy, and when too many people are unemployed or underpaid and so can’t be Fordist-style consumers. But this is not such a crisis for capital as it seems. The GDP may stagnate, but big monopoly mega-capitalists can make mega-bucks while small businesses and individuals struggle to survive. The economy pivots to information technology with data the new currency, automation the answer to falling profits, surplus populations the results. All this is compounded by war, climate change and the inequities of globalisation forcing people to leave their homes. If the future is mainly uninhabitable, those places which are not, close the borders and try to become national capital blocs, funnelling public money into ‘national’ businesses.

Migration is a challenge to the Global North in a number of ways. Maybe our leaders are (as individuals) racists, maybe they are not. Either way, they serve a state that is imperialistic, that, to quote Public Enemy, fears a black planet. Hence imperialist borders and hierarchies must be maintained.

Secondly, it may also be that their electoral success is threatened by the movement of global majority people to the ‘white’ countries. Our rulers may be utterly opposed to the interests of the majority of the population, but they are at least ‘our’ rulers, by virtue of their Whiteness or their Britishness. Will a non-White population feel the same allegiance to the White bourgeoisie? Perhaps not. It’s even better if those MPs whom we are voting for are not White, in a way. Patel, Javid, Sunak, Badenoch etc., can support White-first policies and mask the obvious racism with the cover of their skin colour. If they are Tories at least. We know where they stand if they join that gang. Asian and Black Labour MPs are more likely to provoke suspicion. They might believe in social justice.

Thirdly, by crossing the border between the 1st and 3rd world, these migrants are saying, we too deserve a chance at the good life. Their presence provokes questions. Why should they live in miserable, inhuman conditions? The racist answer is always to dehumanise them, so that they become associated with the conditions they are forced to live in. The state has denied asylum seekers access to work or benefits (another Blairite legacy). It has forced the relatively privileged, educated few who are able to pay enough to get to Europe and who are hardy enough to survive the journey, to accept the worst conditions: precariously employed, underpaid, doing dirty, boring or unpleasant work. Once disciplined in this way, they can become cheap enough labour for the employment agencies, distribution centres, supermarkets, abattoirs, packing factories, hedge-fund-funded delivery companies and taxi tech platforms to be near enough profitable enough to push up the share price. They can take the bad housing no one wants; or occupy hotel rooms in unfashionable places which would have been otherwise half-empty without the government-funded contracts. Hopefully, in the process they can prevent ‘wage inflation’ for the masses more generally, while figuring as a vote-winner for the politicians and an explanation for the low-wages of the low-waged. You have both the labour force for the economy and a viable scapegoat for politics. Importantly, though, racial capitalism has countered the idea of equality and internationalism which threatens to undermine its globalised system of labour exploitation.

The political logic of this xeno-racist project against those considered ‘foreign’ or ‘illegal’ targets more than just the racialised other. Back in 2002, Blair told us who those terror laws were meant for, and it was not just the terrorists (for whose murderous actions enough laws existed anyway), and not just the migrants (although they were the easiest and first target of the post-emergency world). At his speech at the first Labour Party conference after the Al Qaeda attacks on USA, Blair does not just talk about terrorists. His new constituency is no longer the “working class” but the vaguer category of those who “play by the rules”. And who isn’t playing by the rules? Blair lists them: Terrorists – a threat to “our way of life”; asylum seekers who might be using the asylum system as a “front for terrorist entry”; benefit claimants, “who refuse to work”; “teenage muggers”; “parts of Islam” and “parts of Western society” who have a “prejudice against America”. They are reminiscent of Enoch Powell’s unholy triad of the “stranger, the disgruntled and the agent-provocateur”. Rhetorically, for Blair as for Powell, they merge into one category – those who don’t play by the rules. “All these policies”, he said, “are linked by a common thread of principle.” Those ‘others’ (be they Wahhabi jihadists, anti-globalisation anarchists, benefit claimants or juvenile delinquents) had chosen not to accept “our values”, which were the “right ones for this age”. The remedy was clear, as he said in a speech four years later, launching his unironically named “5 year plan”, aimed at forcing people on incapacity benefit into work: “those who don’t play by the rules should start playing by the rules”.[4] The results of that particular intervention speak for themselves. According to the DWP’s own figures, in just three years, 2,380 people died shortly after being forced back into work by the new Work Capability Assessment, which was administered by French multi-national company Atos at a cost of £100 million a year.[5] Like Joseph Stalin, he had achieved the aims of his five year plan in even less time than he had said he would.

By creating the figure of the ‘Terrorist’, states could institute new powers. Like Reagan and Thatcher before them, Bush and Blair led a global political counter-revolution. Almost everywhere followed suit. “Laws must be changed”, Blair said. The era’s domestic legacy is the proscription of peaceful protest groups, massively increased surveillance, a hollowed-out welfare state and an overflowing prison population, plus a resurgent far-right. The legacy abroad includes the reinstalment of the Taliban in Afghanistan and the emergence of Isis in Iraq, after nearly five million ‘excess deaths’ worldwide.

The Chickens Coming Home to Roost

After September 11th, the American way of life was allegedly under threat. It really didn’t look like that. A terrible act of senseless murder had been perpetrated. No sane person would celebrate that. Yet, in the aftermath, who was worse: the crowds waving American flags or the ones burning them? Chomsky is particularly good at cutting through the false binary of ‘terrorists’ and the ‘free world’, as shown by the way no one could actually define ‘terrorism’: “Western powers could never abide by their own official definitions of the term, as in the U.S. Code or Army manuals. To do so would at once reveal that the U.S. is a leading terrorist state, as are its clients.” Thus, one could hardly call it a ‘war on terror’, more like terror-on-terror crime. Even before September 11th, the US state was already spreading it. Chomsky is replete with examples: starving Iraqis with sanctions; supporting Suharto’s massacre of hundreds of thousands of people in Indonesia (‘our kind of guy’ according to the Clinton administration.[6]); launching operations in central America that left “some 200,000 tortured and mutilated corpses, millions of orphans and refugees, and four countries devastated.” In fact, where in the world is there a place that the US has not terrorised?

It is this glaring blindspot that Chomsky wants us to keep paying attention to. For example:

““Everybody here was quite properly outraged by the Oklahoma City bombing, and for a couple of days the headlines read, ‘Oklahoma City Looks Like Beirut.’ I didn’t see anybody point out that Beirut also looks like Beirut

Noam Chomsky

“Everybody here was quite properly outraged by the Oklahoma City bombing, and for a couple of days the headlines read, ‘Oklahoma City Looks Like Beirut.’ I didn’t see anybody point out that Beirut also looks like Beirut, and part of the reason is that the Reagan administration had set off a terrorist bombing there in 1985 that was very much like Oklahoma City, a truck bombing outside a mosque timed to kill the maximum number of people as they left. It killed 80 and wounded 250, mostly women and children, according to the report in the Washington Post 3 years later. The terrorist bombing was aimed at a Muslim cleric whom they didn’t like and whom they missed. It was not very secret.”

So the attacks themselves, launched by the people whom they had trained, were chickens coming home to roost. But the state response to September 11th had a further irony. The emergency legislation and the new imperialist foreign policy were designed, according to its architects, to ‘protect our way of life’ and Western democracy. What in fact it did was create the conditions that are now threatening to undermine the fundamental tenets of this supposed ‘democracy’. Habeas corpus disappeared in Guantanamo Bay, Abu Ghraib, Belmarsh, and ‘black sites’ across the American empire. Terror suspects could be detained indefinitely without charge or trial, because, the UK government claimed, they were facing a “public emergency threatening the life of the nation”. The terrorism laws were then applied to everyone from protestors to homeless people. If the War on Terror was meant to defend the values of rule of law, democracy, free speech etc. the biggest danger to those supposed values was in fact the state’s response.

This legacy of the conflation of the issue of asylum seekers with terrorism is seen today with far-right protests outside the hotels where our racist laws have left those migrants who are not rich enough or White enough to buy their way into the UK legally. New Labour politicians who later complained about Brexit and the ‘rise of the far right’ were in fact the very people who spuriously attached the issue of terrorism to the issue of asylum. In fact, the thing that is most likely to turn an innocent asylum seeker into a terrorist, are the tortuous conditions that those people must live under. Who can say they would not go out of their senses if forced to live, as the St Vincent de Paul Society put it, in “dreadful conditions that cause them distress, negatively impact their health, and violate their basic human rights”?[7] Given that many asylum seekers have already experienced traumatic experiences that forced them to leave their country in the first place, as well as having to go through horrendous journeys to get here, it is surprising that there are not more cases such as the one of the Libyan asylum seeker who went berserk in a park in Reading in 2020[8].

In the edition of CARF in which Sivanandan is interviewed, the editorial is prescient. They can see what is coming: “Just as the war in Afghanistan is not a limited and targeted intervention against a defined enemy, the domestic front of the ‘War Against Terrorism’ is similarly undefined. Heedless of ‘collateral damage’, the governments of the US and the UK trawl for suspects in ‘foreign’ communities”. They mention how the Terrorism Act 2000 had already introduced Proscribed Organisations Orders on the PKK and LTTE (Tamil Tigers), “tantamount to criminalising all Sri Lankan Tamils and all Turkish Kurds, who would all sympathise, in one way or another with the goals of the LTTE or the PKK”. Paving the way for the criminalisation of Palestine Action.

But post 2001, the ATCSA went further, with Blunkett “explicitly stating that as terrorists have, in the past, used the asylum system to gain entry to the UK, this justifies keeping all asylum seekers under a special surveillance regime.” It was not asylum seekers who hijacked planes in 2001, or detonated the 2005 bombs in London. In the case of the latter they were, in fact, born here. The murderers explained their reasons for their actions in a recorded video tape. It was not to do with hating democracy:

“You are directly responsible for the problems in Palestine, Afghanistan, and Iraq to this day. You have openly declared war on Islam, and are the forerunners in the crusade against the Muslims. … What you have witnessed now is only the beginning of a string of attacks that will continue and become stronger until you pull your forces out of Afghanistan and Iraq. And until you stop your financial and military support to America and Israel.” (Wikipedia)

“Yet,” as CARF predicted, “it is precisely destitute asylum seekers arriving in the UK who will, in future, be targeted as suspected terrorists”, creating an “explicit linkage of a system of welfare to a system of surveillance” and, “a Soviet style police state for asylum seekers”. Blunkett “has further institutionalised xeno-racism against asylum seekers. Only this time foreign asylum seekers are not just economic scroungers and illegal immigrants, but, more threateningly, criminal conspirators and terrorists: the enemy within.”

An alternative missed

The inaugaration of George W. Bush in 2001 (Photo by Rick Wilking/Liaison)

Michael Moore’s documentary, Fahrenheit 911, opens with a shot of Bush’s inauguration, the president’s car pelted with eggs, as people protest the obviously corrupt election process. But as well as protesting the Florida election result debacle, you can also see slogans on placards about climate change and globalisation. Bush was not just a bumbling Texas idiot as the Democrat establishment spent the next few years trying to portray him. He also represented a type of politics: free trade agreements and the continued exploitation of fossil fuels in the reckless pursuit of profit over climate stability. ‘Globalisation’ is a word we rarely use now, but it was understood back then as the modus operandi of neo-imperialism, a way to “keep the Third World in a stagnant position / begging for monetary aid from IMF, / who don’t seem too keen to wipe off the third world debt”. It was in rap songs, like that just quoted from Roots Manuva. It was exposed in the protests at Genoa, Seattle, Birmingham etc. It even had Tony Blair pledging support for ‘Jubilee 2000’, declaring, with his usual insincerity, his personal commitment to ‘drop the debt’[9]. It was so much a topic that in 2001, people were seriously asking, did Bin Laden attack the WTC as a protest against globalisation? Anti-globalisation is now forgotten as an argument and there are few who seem to think that the financial debt owed by former colonies to their former colonisers is much of an issue anymore. Yet, at the time, Sivanandan pointed out in his interview with CARF, that all the tub-thumping of the war presidents and prime ministers should not make us lose sight of the real threat to freedom:

“The Third World is facing economic genocide in which its own governments are collaborators. Debt has forced these countries into a cycle of ever-increasing poverty. What they produce is barely sufficient to pay back the interest on their debt, let alone feed themselves, so the people are starved further. Debt kills off the present generation and the imposition of structural adjustment programmes that accompany IMF loans, kills off the future generation … economic genocide by stealth.”

In the West, our attention has been lost from the international issue. September 11th sped up the nativist turn in our politics. It is capitalism’s solution to resolving its crises and contradictions (with more crises and contradictions). It was a counter-revolution that has developed into a full on war against the so-called cultural Marxists, anti-semitic, lovers of migrants, supposedly controlling the media, forcing children to become trans and intent on ‘replacing’ the White race, bankrolled as we are by the evil George Soros. What is that conspiracy in form but classical 20th century anti-semitism repackaged? Thus the new anti-semitism no longer has Jewish people as its prime target, but is used against people of colour and the Left, which remains the only game in town which can save us from barbarism.

We, the disunited and differentially discriminated against, victims of this system, must find ways to unite. Perhaps the mass mobilisations around Palestine and the legacy of the pandemic may wake us up again to internationalism as a mindset and mutual aid as a method. As the 90s slogan went: Act local, think global. We can start at the point of need: the forever rising cost of living; and unite against the common enemy: the flag-wavers, the professional shit-stirrers and the police. In building the alternative we must be serious about swimming against the tide that is dragging us under. Withdraw from the networks of capital where we can. Boycott them where possible. Be neighbourly with neighbours. Make art, make love, build and repair. Ignore the phone. Read. Engage. Work to build movements and movements of movements.

The social democrats and the apolitical will come our way if we ever become a significant force. The is not the era for a single party. If there is to be a parliamentary party of the Left in the UK, as it appears that there might be, then we should give it our comradely, if cautious support. But such a party only seizes power when enough people are politically engaged enough to be immune to the rhetoric and mud-slinging that will be thrown their way, switched on enough not to be scared by made-up folk devils and victim-blaming, open enough to see there is another way. That way does not involve giving up our autonomy and freedom to support war-pigs and megalomaniacs because we are scared of terrorists.

References

  • Amnesty Report
  • Tony Blair speech to Labour Party Conference, October 2001
  • CARF Dec 2001 / Jan 2002
  • Noam Chomsky, 911 – was there an alternative? Open Media, November 2001
  • Arun Kundnani, The End of Tolerance, Verso; 2007
  • Michael Moore, Fahrenheit 911

[1] https://georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/news/releases/2001/09/20010920-8.html

[2] https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB1006205820963585440

[3] Amnesty Report

[4] http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/4224721.stm

[5] https://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/mar/27/atos-contract-end-relief-campaigners

[6] Incidentally, the Clintons were not great with their choice of friends. Eight years later, Hilary Clinton, infamously called Hosni Mubarak and his wife, “friends of my family.” See: https://washingtonindependent.org/105210/sec-clinton-interview-in-march-2009-marginalizes-human-rights-says-mubaraks-are-friends-of-the-family/

[7] https://svp.org.uk/sites/default/files/2024-08/SVP%20Policy%20briefing%20-%20Asylum%20temporary%20accommodation%20-%20April%202024.pdf

[8] https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2021/jan/11/reading-attacker-khairi-saadallah-given-whole-life-prison-sentence

[9] https://www.independent.co.uk/news/brown-will-cancel-third-world-debt-1133042.html

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Posted by Roseanna

The elf who steals the show with the best lines

The fifth section of our close reading brings us into the start of Book 2, with chapters I – Many Meetings and II – The Council of Elrond. We just tackled two this time, because the second one is a bit of a chonker, at least in content heft (possibly less so in page count).

In terms of actual action, all that really takes place here is Frodo reawakening (at 10 o’clock in the morning on October the 24th, per the meme) in Rivendell, a bit of a feast and a whole lot of conversations. The bulk of the purpose of both chapters, but predominantly the latter, is to fill us in on the goings on in the wider world beyond the scope of the Shire, the depth of the problem at hand, and what comes next, and, tonally, to fully transition the narrative into the full epic it is going to be.

Yes, that means I am doing the big crime, and calling The Last Homely House East of the Sea a liminal space. I’m very sorry and will try to keep it to a respectable minimum, but I do think it’s a defensible position.

Before I go into any specifics, however, I want to highlight that The Council of Elrond is the first time in this reading that I’ve had cause to fault Tolkien as a writer. I don’t like Tom Bombadil, sure, but I acknowledge his place in the narrative and how well he fulfills his purpose, so that was just a taste thing. Here, however… I think there’s a lot of exposition getting crammed into not a lot of space, and the seams are showing a little bit. The chapter just drags. This is especially true for those sections (predominantly belonging to Gandalf) that are conducted in large part as directly reported speech. I’ll admit, on a personal taste level, I hold a particular loathing for the type of storytelling one encounters in daily life where someone recounts “So I says to him… and then he says to me… so I says to him…” and so on. But it’s not just a me problem. So far in the story, a lot of the worldbuilding, lore, and other accoutrements going on have been pretty well synthesised with the movement of the story – things occur seemingly naturally as the hobbits encounter them in the world, and are never overburdened with explanations. The world is given texture by snippets of explanation or storytelling, and indeed by the verse inclusions (which we will come back to later1), but as part of the way JRRT manages tone throughout, they never linger. The Council of Elrond is one big, lingering exposition bomb. There’s no real way around it.

It’s not wholly awful – the way he brings in different characters from the different parts of his world and different backgrounds is a great way of demonstrating meaningfully the true scope of the problem Middle Earth faces, in a way that hasn’t truly been clear before, as well as giving us a real sense of their differences. I enjoyed that. Boromir and Legolas and Gloin and Bilbo and Elrond all do speak and conduct themselves distinctively. Elrond, particularly, has a very clear voice that I realised how well was actually conveyed in the films. But in terms of information that needs to be conveyed… I think it’s some of his weaker writing so far. At times, it descends into full blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff, like so:

I rode away at dawn; and I came at long last to the dwelling of Saruman. That is far south in Isengard, in the end of the Misty Mountains, not far from the Gap of Rohan. And Boromir will tell you that that is a great open vale that lies between the Misty Mountains and the northmost foothills of Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains of his home. But Isengard is a circle of sheer rocks that enclose a valley as with a wall, and in the midst of that valley is a tower of stone called Orthanc. It was not made by Saruman, but by the men of Númenor long ago; and it is very tall and has many secrets; yet it looks not t be a work of craft. It cannot be reached save bvy passing the circle of Isengard; and in that circle there is only one gate.

I want to make it clear that my objection isn’t that any of this “isn’t necessary”. What does that even mean, really? Another essay entirely. Everything is precisely as necessary as everything else in a piece of fiction. What I do think is the problem however is that in giving all this density of information, much of which has not been previously contextualised, the pace of the storytelling is slowed down, which runs counter to the mounting feeling in the chapter that all of this stuff is very important and time sensitive. If one wanted context, one could, I suppose, go look at the map2 in the front of the book, but as a piece of text otherwise it’s just very opaque. Some of it is about to be contextualised (especially who Saruman is and his importance to the story), but much of it not, or not for a good while. For the moment, it’s just… texture, but of a less elegant type than Tolkien has thus far been providing.

Maybe he’s just trying to make clear that Gandalf is a rather verbose storyteller. If so, he achieves that with bells on, I suppose. But I don’t like it.

But even aside from Gandalf, all this exposition essentially amounts to a group of speakers speedrunning the reader through an entire age of Middle Earth’s history, and that’s just… a lot. This story has its roots far back in the mists of time, and JRRT wants us to know that (by god he does), but I think he has, in this rare instance, leaned a little too heavily in on it.

Anyway! Aside from that gripe, I do think there’s a lot to dig into in this section, though not much of it that forms an overarching theme as we’ve had in other places, possibly as a result of quite how much content does need to be got through in not a vast number of pages.

I’ll start off with liminal Rivendell, to get it out of the way. Up until this point, the amount of danger faced by the hobbits has been growing – we’ve seen the increasing intrusions of this epic narrative onto the story, especially once they meet Strider – but Rivendell I think presents a doorway through which the characters must walk to become a part of that epic. It is here we learn quite how deep the roots go, quite how big the stakes are, and it is only by Frodo choosing to take up the burden of the Ring that he progresses from the reduced scope dangers of the early story into the full, wide world3. We are very much not in Hobbiton anymore – farewell domesticity; hello great deeds. And so, The Council of Elrond, where Frodo is presented with all of the information to see what a burden he carries and the length of the road it needs to travel, is the door, but Many Meetings before it is the farewell.

It’s an indulgent chapter, in the best possible way, full of verse, lush descriptions of the House of Elrond and its current inhabitants, and much storytelling and poetry. There is a particularly beautiful section where Frodo is lulled into something near to sleep by the stories and songs around him, and it is hard to tell, in that moment, if the magic being described is something unworldly coming from the elves doing the talking, or simply the magic of oral storytelling itself, a belief I would quite happily ascribe to Tolkien, I think, and one I just rather like myself. Whatever its cause, it is a moment of loveliness, and a brief time of not just safety but comfort, in a world that has become dark, and is about to be a whole lot darker. Truly, the last homely house.

Featured heavily here, unsurprisingly, are, as Ed rather nicely put it, the two genders of elves. To quote Sam, there are “Some like kings, terrible and splendid; and some as merry as children”. That word, “merry”, crops up rather a lot, as does “merrymaking”, and the warmth and comfort is in no small part because of the evident joy coming through from them here. Bilbo even remarks on their obsession with poetry and tales that they like them “as much as food, or more” (banging my “elves are fairies” drum again). We see them teasing, when Bilbo recites a poem about Eärendil and Elwing, we see them making music, laughing, speaking, and being in this place in the world that is theirs, strange and magical to Frodo’s eye. Indeed, there are some moments of beautiful description of Glorfindel, Elrond and Arwen that mark how much they are different and magical, with their ageless beauty and, in the case of the latter two, full of the light of stars4 5.

The shift into the following chapter takes us from “merry as children” into “terrible and splendid”. There are several elves saying various portentous things, but none more so than Elrond, who in this chapter gets to deliver banger after solid banger. Unsurprisingly, many of those were lifted verbatim into the film, so I found myself hearing them delivered in Hugo Weaving’s voice. I don’t mind, exactly – I love Weaving and his performance of the role – but it’s one of the few moments where I’ve been noticeably sad that I don’t have any memory of my experience of this story before I watched the films. It happened. I must have had pictures and sounds in my head. But they have long been washed away by Jackson’s vision of this world, and I don’t think I will ever separate the two, now. No matter how much I think Weaving did a great job with this material (and I do! I really do!), I love Elrond, his character and his many dire pronouncements so much, I would love to be able to recapture my experience of them simply as they are in the text. Not least because he does so much work here, alongside the descriptions of the various elves, to convey just how different elves are as beings than the others around them.

And, as something of a tangent, I find it interesting that, as the post-Tolkien genre has developed, we’ve drawn the lines between these different peoples very differently. In the book so far, it has been very clear to me that there’s a division between elves, the Eldar, a race apart, and all the other, mortal races6. However, if I look more generally at both modern fiction and D&D, the dividing line is far more “humans” vs “all the other, fantastical beings”. I don’t really have any thoughts about why that might be, but I do find it an interesting shift, given just how heavily Tolkien leans in on the specialness inherent to elves in his work, and that is being made abundantly clear in this section.

One of the axes of which is a brief dip into talking about the Unseen world, which we’re told elves particularly can just see into, and be within, when discussing Glorfindel’s interactions with the Ringwraiths. In one of the most accurately lifted scenes that make the film from this section (along with Gandalf’s pronouncement of the black speech inscribed in the Ring), Bilbo jumpscares Frodo with a brief shift into a horrible creature that resembles Gollum, before subsiding and admitting that the Ring has passed beyond his grasp. Like the moment on Weathertop when Frodo puts on the Ring, is this an intrusion of that Unseen world into his consciousness, permitted by both Bilbo and his relationship and affinity with the Ring? I don’t know. But for Frodo, it is an access that is only permitted by his proximity to this deeply magical object. For elves, it is simply what they are. A different manner of being altogether.

Not to lean too heavily on comparisons with the film, but there is something else critical to talk about here – Arwen. In these chapters of the book, she appears and is described (in detail) several times. She is obviously beautiful and has a piercing gaze that Frodo remarks upon. But she never speaks. Thus far, I believe the only women in the story who have done so are Goldberry and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, in fact, and neither of them at great length. Arwen’s role here is, thus far, to sit around looking starry and ethereal. And for all that I enjoy the descriptions of her very much, I’m not a big fan of this from a gender perspective. And so, I do think Jackson’s conflation of her into Glorfindel’s role at the ford, and just giving her a bit more prominence by foregrounding her relationship with Aragorn… makes sense. I like her getting lines. I like her getting to do things7. It is… unavoidable, reading it now, how little space there is in the book for women, even when they appear on page. This is hardly a revolutionary observation, but it is what it is.

There is, however, a… not exactly a negative, but a definite loss from the book in this approach, which feeds into a wider thing that I only notice now I’m spending the time in the book – the flattening of the elves generally. If we stick with the “two genders” approach, Jackson only really retains the latter. Arwen is splendid as a king at many points, getting no end of dramatic pronouncements and moody, artistic shots full of portent. Elrond gets his dire statements of doom. Galadriel gets to be ethereal and a bit scary. But none of them are really merry, and even the more comedy leaning moments of Legolas don’t really tend that way. By conflating their roles, Jackson cuts out Glorfindel on his jingle-jangle blinged up horse, and I’m not gonna lie, I think that’s a loss to the complexity of this world.

It’s not just the elves, even. I’ve mentioned in previous sections, but it bears repeating again that Aragorn also loses some of his merriment and mischief, which Many Meetings sees crop up again in his friendship and discussions with Bilbo.

What stands out more, however, in our discussions of Aragorn in this section is his role as king. It’s interesting just quite how up front he is in the story about it – he flat out just tells Boromir the sword will be reforged and he’ll be coming to Minas Tirith. That part of the story is simply not where Tolkien is interested in building tension, and I enjoy very much the variation around things he is quite happy to divulge up front, and where he chooses to let uncertainty and suspense creep in8. But because we are talking about Aragorn, about his ancestry and his role in the story to come, that means we have to deal with the unfortunate fact of the blood of Númenor, and the deteriorationist view of history that is endemic to The Lord of the Rings. In this chapter, it is more clearly explained on the page than it previously has been that Aragorn and the Dúnedain are the remnant of the Númenóreans, and Aragorn himself the heir of Elendil. And it is likewise made clear that the Númenóreans are just better than other “lesser men”, and that no matter the many, many generations that have passed since their fall, the blood in their veins still marks them out as other and better. And that is quite uncomfortable reading, I’m not going to lie. It also sits strangely alongside the theme that Frodo and Sam represent of smaller, humbler people being able to do great deeds when they find courage within themselves. I suspect this is something I’m just going to keep coming back to because the two do not fit well together for me.

Still a little uncomfortable, but more interesting is the wider arc of this deteriorationist view of history. Mythologically, it’s a common approach – we need only look at the myth of the ages9 in Ancient Greece for a comparator, for instance, and no end of literature the world over convinced that things were better in the age of our grandfathers, when everyone did the rituals they were supposed to and were good and righteous, not like kids today – but it’s interesting seeing it crop up in a work at the time Tolkien was writing, when, I think, it had become a little more common to see the arc of history as bending towards progress10 than typical in a lot of older literature. Is this Tolkien being a historian (not improbable)? Is this a man disillusioned at the idea of progress because of The War (also believable for me)? Or something else? I don’t know, but again, I think a productive space for thought. But when paired with the above, both the inherent specialness of the elves (whose time is passing) and the erosion of the power and presence in the world of the blood of Númenor… what is this saying about the state of the world, and which powers in it make things good? Especially knowing the role Aragorn and his return to the throne of Gondor will play? It’s all just, yeah, really quite fucking uncomfortable.

Much less uncomfortably, however, is the insight we get of Saruman and his fall from goodness, in which Tolkien is convinced that spending too long interacting with the cursed texts is gonna get you good and cursed along with them, which feels like a depressingly apt observation for our own times. Equally, the lingering of the various speakers in The Council of Elrond on how the problem they face cannot – should not – only be postponed for a future generation to deal with, but must be resolved once and for all, given that previous postponements of Sauron’s rise to power have now come back to bite them. And while this is a good and equally applicable message, what it also brings is the enjoyable vibe of Glorfindel, keeno and problem solver, having his every suggestion shot down by Team Doom and Gloom, Elrond and Gandalf. The jingle jangle elf just wants to help but apparently “chuck it in the sea” isn’t the solution. Everyone’s a critic.

I’m not sure that part was actually meant to be funny, but I found it so. I think I just find Glorfindel hilarious now11. There were, however, a selection of lols that did, eventually, break up the tone of solemnity of the council, predominantly in Bilbo enquiring after snack breaks. As Ed put it, Bilbo is still in The Hobbit, even if no one else is, and he’s quite right. I think that, coming in at the end of The Council of Elrond as it does, really underscores that shift into the new mode of the story into which Frodo is about to embark. Also Saruman’s raimant has now shifted to rainbow – a sequence in which Tolkien very much wants us to know he understands how prisms work – and his grandiosity is rather undercut by Gandalf’s simple pronouncement that he “liked white better”.

And finally, the verse again. I really am finding myself lingering over them as I’m reading this time, scanning them, thinking about alliteration and rhythm and rhyme, and I think I do just need to spend some time reading up on the type of verse Tolkien will have been drawing on to make them. They are grabbing so much of my attention, I want to put the work in to get to grips with them better, just because I know juuuust enough to see how much more depth there is to burrow into. I have some ideas of where to start, and it may take a while, but if anyone has any recommendations for resources on Tolkien, verse and how it interacts with historical verse, I’d be very interested, especially if it’s willing to go into lots of detail. But even without that depth of knowledge, there are some wonderful pieces in this section, not least a reiteration of Bilbo’s rhyme about Aragorn, and a verse that comes to Faramir and Boromir in a dream which prompts Boromir’s journey to Rivendell. It is that verse – which is a very odd duck to all the tools I have to look at it – more than any that makes me think I need to learn more. And which makes me think the doing so will be a rewarding task.

Next up, we venture south, and then into Moria.

  1. If you’re a Tolkien poetry hater (or worse, a skipper), I think it’s safe to say I’ve made it clear we don’t agree on that point. I am going to keep talking about it in these. I am not sorry. ↩
  2. A thing I will literally never do when reading. I look when I first open the book and marvel at it as an aesthetic object, but I will never refer to it mid-story. I’m not starting now. ↩
  3. Yes, I did just read “Diana Wynne Jones and the Portal-Quest Fantasy” by Farah Mendlesohn in Diana Wynne Jones: The Fantastic Tradition and Children’s Literature why do you ask? ↩
  4. In two successive paragraphs, Tolkien particularly uses the stars as description reference points for first Elrond and then Arwen. I wondered if this was intended to echo their relationship with Eärendil and his silmaril crossing the sky, but Ed thinks it’s just marking out the light of the Eldar and the beings who were first under the stars. ↩
  5. He also gives us a very interesting description of Gandalf, whose eyes burn like coals, and I can’t quite fit this anywhere in the main discussion but it’s just so good when JRRT really flexes his “make it dramatic” descriptive muscles. ↩
  6. Plus a few weird exceptional beings, like Gandalf. But I’m talking in the generalities here. ↩
  7. And giving us one fewer character to keep track of isn’t the worst decision. ↩
  8. Also I very much enjoy that at at least three points in The Council of Elrond he just declares he’s skipping over a bit of exposition (because we already experienced it, because it was in the Hobbit, and because Elrond has written it down elsewhere, respectively). More books should take that rather meta and blunt approach to exposition, I feel. ↩
  9. Which Hades 2 has me thinking about a lot recently. ↩
  10. Not that that’s a wholly better view of it all or anything. ↩
  11. Not at all helped by a Tiktok of someone talking about reading the books to her children who did a French accent for Glorfindel, and now deeply regrets it because he’s the children’s favourite character. I did inflict comedy French Glorfindel on Ed and I am not sorry for it. ↩
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Posted by Roseanna

First up, congrats on your amazing taste in books! High five.

But alas, assuming you have already burned through Fellman’s back catalogue (if you haven’t, why not, fix that, and then come flail at me about The Breath of the Sun1), you may have come to the end of the obvious comps for this excellent piece of fiction, and so you’re wondering… what on earth do I do with myself now?

In which case, I have five recommended reads for you that I think draw on (a few of) the different aspects of what makes Notes from a Regicide wonderful, and maybe among them you can find something else to start a pyramid scheme2 of recommendations3 for.


First up, were you there for the complex relationship dynamics (starting right from inside the protagonist’s head) and characters being heavily foregrounded? Is so, you might like:

No Such Thing As Duty by Lara Elena Donnelly

I reviewed it in full here, but in brief, Donnelly has the reader sit with the protagonist (a fictionalised version of Somerset Maugham) and experience their feelings about both themself and their relationships with others, as well as riding along as they stumble through those relationships, and uses that as a brush to reveal a love for humanity that is enriched by a clear perception of its flaws, person by person. There is a plot and a world and the fantastical, but the strength of the book is in using those to serve this character and relationship study, rather than vying for attention with it.

The story follows Maugham on a mission he feels deeply conflicted about, and which may not have much hope of any kind of success, but which brings him into contact with a compelling stranger and some time to think about himself and his relationship with duty. Through their interactions and his awareness of his own very-likely-imminent death, Maugham reflects on his loves and reacts to those around him, and is a delight (if delights can be poignant and sad) to sit with.

Other books considered that touch on this point: A Mourning Coat by Alex Jeffers, What a Fish Looks Like by Syr Hayati Beker, When The Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb and a very sideways pick of a non-fiction book, Eros the Bittersweet by Anne Carson, which does a lot of work on the complexities of love that I think harmonise beautifully with some of Fellman’s work in this book.


Next, were you really sold on the way that Fellman grounds the story in human physicality? The twinned beauty and grossness (and how those two responses interplay) of being an embodied thing? Then might I recommend you:

Metal from Heaven by august clarke

This story begins with a factory strike, as the metal they handle is harming some of the workers, including the children (who are called the luster-touched). After the strike is violently eradicated, one of those children escapes and swears vengeance against the factory owner who made it all happen. Along the way, she has to reckon with her luster-touched nature, and use it even though it hurts her.

Even aside from that, her life as she grows up in a lesbian bandit camp of anticapitalist idealists, there is a great deal of lingering on touch, on the look and feel of the body both to oneself and to others, and the experience of proximity and grasp. It’s a thing I find rare in fiction to dwell on it in all its many emotive contexts, rather than one, and Metal from Heaven does it very well.

It also, as a nice bonus, gets you the rage at the world and its problems that runs squarely through a goodly part of Notes from a Regicide, which is handy. Both books also join up their bodies and their rages, and never let you forget their being in the world. Gender? GENDER.

In other books that cover this, you could try She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan, and find some of that rage and gender in there as well.


Were you here for the sexy, gorgeous, delicious prose? God, same. And for a fix of something similarly substantial, I would recommend you try:

OKPsyche by Anya Johanna DeNiro

I reviewed this in full for NoaF here. A loose reinterpretation of the myth of Cupid and Psyche4, this somewhat surreal book takes you through a series of events in the life of a middle-aged trans woman as she grapples with dating, friendship and her relationship with her son. Her emotions are very real, even when we can’t be sure how grounded in reality her experiences are, and things take some very strange turns along the way. Throughout, DeNiro makes even the smallest moments of the story sing with her way with a turn of phrase. There’s a hallucinogenic quality to it that sits very well with her occasional turns of vicious accuracy in highlighting key moments, and so the experience of the novel is one always in flux.

I know “lyrical” is a word grossly overused in literary descriptions, but it is the one I most want to reach for for both of these authors. It gives the sense of fluidity that they both have in how they handle their language, but also the awareness of the underlying craft. Neither DeNiro or Fellman ever give the sense that anything they do is less than 100% calculated. Like poem or song, every word is made to count, and that wash of gorgeous whole is the product of a mass of tiny, perfect choices, rather than something magical or organic. And so, I’m sticking with “lyrical”. Because the alternative is me calling the prose “sexy” again, and I’m reasonably sure that isn’t as effective as it is in my head.

For other expertly crafted acts of prose, try Ixelles by Johannes Anyuru (translated gorgeously by Nichola Smalley), Sour Cherry by Natalia Theodoridou or A Taste of Honey by Kai Ashante Wilson


Did you come for the messy, complex, ambiguous worldbuilding? If so, I give you:

The Place of Shells by Mai Ishizawa (tr. Polly Barton)

As in Notes, the speculativity of The Place of Shells is subordinate to the themes, ideas and emotional arc of the book, and is somehow both pushed into the corners and yet the cornerstone of why the book works so well. There are no answers, but you’ll have fun (and a good deal of thinky time) grappling with the questions nonetheless.

Where Notes directs this into the future, and towards revolution, The Place of Shells has a quieter, more personal approach, but no less effective for the reduction in scope. Set shortly in the aftermath of covid, the story sits with an unnamed narrator who grapples with the death of a friend in the Tōhoku tsunami ten years before. He has now returned, and come to visit her in Germany.

How he’s done this isn’t explained, nor are some of the other strange events that occur through the book, but they don’t need to be to be effective within the story. The emotional journey – which culminates in a parade with heavy symbolism of pilgrimage – is clear where the world is not. Instead, the ambiguity and the strangeness that sit as motifs in those corners of the story builds slowly into resonances that reveal how little the “why” and “how” matter in the story’s circumstances – what matters is the process, the immersion, and that character journey, and the pay-off when you get there is beautiful.

Both this and Notes are books that insist full comprehension can be at odds with emotive heft, and prove their points emphatically with an experience that comes with an emotional hangover.

For books that likewise reject clear classification or clarification, try Rakesfall by Vajra Chandrasekera, Remember You Will Die by Eden Robins or In Universes by Emet North.


And finally, is what captured you about this the sense of awe and wonder, or the way Fellman gives feeling to both art and the act of its creation? It’s maybe a little quieter here than in The Breath of the Sun, but I would consider the two books quite close siblings in how they play with my ability to be awestruck by something bigger than a single person. One may be a mountain and the other may be something a little more abstract, but it’s pushing a similar button inside me, and it turns out it’s quite difficult to find other books that give me a glimpse of something similar.

So, this is a slightly sideways suggestion, but I’m going to offer you:

Memorial by Alice Oswald

This is a sort of translation of The Iliad, but one that strips out action and reaction and plot of almost any kind, instead using the hollows and the words that are left from this centuries-old poem to craft a memorial to the war-dead, the lives destroyed and detailed, book by book in gory, vivid detail in the Homeric epic. Somehow, by cutting away swathes of content, Oswald manages to build a monument to the dead, the act of memory itself, and the poem within whose hollowed cathedral this all lies. Sometimes what remains on the page is sparse, but the act of finding the meaning within and around it crafts some of that sense of wonder that I found in Notes from a Regicide. Unlike Breath of the Sun, the awe here is in the deeply human, and I think Oswald captures something not wildly unlike it, and equally rooted in the lives of both the individual and the power of the collective swept together by fate.


And after all that, if you haven’t read Notes from a Regicide? Well, I think you know what to do.

  1. No really please do. I need people to talk to about that book. I’m not over it. I may never be over it. ↩
  2. You think I’m joking but at this point, I really am not. I am being such a fucking problem about this book. ↩
  3. A quick note on my choices (and something that I haven’t spoken about much in them). Notes is a trans story that focusses very much on being in the world as a trans person. It’s one of the things that I think is great about it. But I, as a cis woman, don’t feel wildly qualified to say “here is another good book about transness”, because who am I to judge, which is why I haven’t chosen that as one of my threads to draw on. That being said, several of the books in the categories chosen are by trans authors, and there are clear thematic overlaps in what I enjoyed about what they were doing. ↩
  4. Really quite loose. ↩