Tudors, Beatles and Achaians
One drawback of this year's book fair: Roland Emmerich saw it fit to premiere his Oxfordian schlock "Anonymous" here, and to rant about the still lasting evil "conspiracy of silence" that ensures the poor Earl of Oxford still isn't celebrated while the yokel from Stratford is. Now I didn't attend either premiere or rant, because I'm not masochistic enough, but I did run into a journalist who asked me among other things which city of the past I would like to visit. Always with the guarantee of a return ticket. Among others, I named Elizabethan London, provided, quoth I, that it wasn't a plague year.
"You're just like Roland Emmerich!" she exclaimed delightedly.
....
Anyway. When I visited hall 8 where the Americans, Brits and half of the former empire always put up camp, I spotted a rarity. You'd think every aspect of Tudor history has been written about at least three times, but when I saw that there was a new biography of Henry VII. out, called "The Winter King", I realised I had never read one of the first Tudor king before. Henry shows up as a young man in biographies of Richard III., of course, and as an old one in books about Katherine of Aragon and Henry VII., but a book solely devoted to him I can't recall. Browsing through it, I had the impression this one was written pretty well, with an eye for context and the ability to bring the various early players at a Tudor court to life, like Edmund Dudley, who made a career out of reaking in the cash for Henry (not a very likable fellow, Henry VII, but he did leave a very full treasure to his son and like all the Tudor monarchs had a talent for spotting gifted New Men to use who owed their careers to the monarch, not their blood). Considering Edmund died in what even at the time was considered as a cheap show trial so young Henry 8 would become popular I'm surprised no one saw the warning signs about the later early on and am inclined to agree with a more recent Leicester (Robin was Edmund's grandson) biography that if you look at the history of the Tudors and the Dudleys in totem, it's by no means the DUDLEYS who come across as the exploiting parasites.
Im tandem with Scorsese's film, there is a huge coffeetable "George Harrison: Living in the material world" book out, which I saw both with an English andma German publisher, i.e. it is released simultanously in several languages. This is not surprising as it is not a biography but a collection of photos and quotes from and about George. Very much worth aquiring, though. You'd think there can be no more new photos from the Beatles era, but no, in fact there are (note: George was into taking pictures of his bandmates, and by no means only in the early days - for example, there is a photo of Paul, Cynthia and John in India, where poor Cyn as usual is sitting somewhat in the background while Paul and John are goofing around). And of course there is plenty of new material of the solo years. My hands down favourite item depicted, though, is a postcard teenage George and Paul wrote to George's mother from one of their hiking trips. It's all earnest schoolboy writing - "dear Mum, we set out from Paul's at 8:00 am", that kind of thing, with assurances to Louise that they find lots to laugh about en route even if they spend some nights without a roof, and both their signatures. Also of interest is the date, August 1959, because this is a full two years after Paul met John. I hadn't known the Harrison-McCartney solo trips had gone on to this late point where conventional wisdom has it John had become the central figure in both their lives. What's more, while I'm not surprised Louise Harrison kept the postcard, she died in 1970. Which means George must have kept it the rest of the time, considering his widow Olivia could give it to Scorsese to publish.
Just so you know I checked out fiction as well: there is a new novel around, "Song of Achilles", written from Patroklos' pov (or rather, his ghost's so he can narrate the story beyond his own death). On the pro side, this version ism a straightforward gay love story, and there still aren't many fantasy novels offering one. On the minus side, I never could stand Achilles. Which is my problem, not the novelist's, but she doesn't convince me I should like her version, either, especially since she falls prey to various traps of OTPism: demonization and/or sexless Yentaization of alternate canon love interests. In other words, Achilles' wife (the mother of his son who is needed for the story, so she can't be written out, but they have sex only that one time, honest) is a bitch while his slave Briseis is really nice but also respects that there is only Patroklos whom she likes better anyway. Give me strength, thought I, and decided that once I'm back in Munich I must reread "Stealing Fire", where Jo Graham has no problem with m/m love stories not excluding our hero having had enjoyed sex with and emotional ties to women as well. Back to Song of Achilles: the most interesting character of the book is a woman, though, the goddess Thetis, Achilles' mother. Sadly, she shows up very rarely.
Tomorrow: last day and the booktraders' peace award ceremony!
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