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Originally published at Al Robertson. You can comment here or there.

So here’s Iain Sinclair, talking about London while wandering in Haggerston Park and Bethnal Green:

He’s sadder here than I’ve ever seen him. He talks in the film about how London has changed into something he can no longer engage with – that writers in general can engage with – in any particularly constructive way. But I think there’s also something very personal behind his grief.

Tom Raworth, a very major, often astonishing poet, died back in February. There’s more on him here. Sinclair knew him well and was – is – greatly influenced by him. He mentions his death at the end of this LRB piece, a companion to the film. I think the film is in part an elegy to him, and to a particular milieu which once surrounded Sinclair but is now slowly and inevitably slipping away.

And of course Sinclair’s more overt concerns about London are both very genuine and very incisive. Most of the film was shot within a few minutes walk of my own final London flat. I once knew that area well, but when I visit it now I feel a very absolute sense of slippage. London has moved away from me, too. There’s a sense of radical change afoot that is hard to keep up with, and both painful and (for someone less closely involved with the city) fascinating to watch.

And I write this on the day that Theresa May’s Article 50-triggering letter reaches Brussels and Brexit proper begins. I’m European as much as I am British – I spent my early years in France. I speak French, some German and Latin, which lets me read Italian and Spanish. I’ve found deep riches in all those cultures. And I’m British as much as I am English. My family on both sides is ultimately Scottish and I spent four immensely formative student years up there.

Brexit is at best profoundly suspicious of and at worst deeply corrosive to those international parts of me, and more broadly to those of England and Britain; to that positive, open European identity that the best parts of the 20th Century fought so hard for. So I felt for Iain Sinclair as he wandered through streets that he’d once felt lost in, and that he’d worked so hard to understand, and that were now puzzling him all over again. His film helped crystallise the sense of loss I’m feeling, without once directly referring to its cause. If you have fifteen minutes today, I’d recommend watching it.

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Originally published at allumination. You can comment here or there.

Much excitement as I’m doing a panel and reading at Nine Worlds next week, plus a Google Hangout and some Courtly Fantasising beforehand.

So, on the Thursday 6th August at 3pm I’ll be doing the hangout with Alex Lamb, Aliette de Bodard and Anna Caltabiano – I’ll post a link when I have it. Then I’ll be hitting Fantasy in the Court. It’s a friendly meetup for genre folk in Cecil Court, should be lovely. You do need a ticket though, details are on the website.

And then on Friday I’m at Nine Worlds, doing a panel and a reading:

Architecture of a great character
Room 38, 10:00am – 11:15am
Al Robertson, Leila Abu el Hawa, Lucy Hounsom, Danie Ware, Sebastien de Castell, Liesel Schwarz

A good character can be timeless but what does it take to build this character and what jigsaw pieces make up the things that make our characters live on?

New Voices
Royal C&D, 10:15pm – 11:30pm

Readings from Francesca Haig, Lucy Hounsom, Zen Cho, Tom Toner, Al Robertson and Stark Holborn

The official schedule details are here. Apart from the reading and panel, I’ll be there all day Saturday too, taking everything in. So, it looks like it’s going to be a lovely, chatty, literary weekend. See you there!

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Originally published at allumination. You can comment here or there.

Zali and I went for a walk the other day. We started at Thamesmead, then moved down the Thames past City Airport. Halfway through, we stopped and dug random quotes out of some books we had with us. I took several pictures. Here’s some of them, plus the quotes we found:

Dark water, distant towers

‘You will never know what just happened, or you will always know what is going to happen.’

Unbroken landscape

‘Here, once again, the machine could be used as a real liberator.’

Breakers pause

‘Inside the apartment, Coltrane played ‘My Favourite Things’. Outside, the builders shouted at one another.’

Fence in bloom

‘As I came through the desert, thus it was.’

Broken quay

‘As I came through the desert: all was black.’

Private sky

Here are the rest of the pictures I took. Here are Zali’s. And here’s a documentary about life in Thamesmead during the 70s:

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