Kafka's Porn Stash and Edinburgh Off to a Good Start

A collection of pornography belonging to Franz Kafka has been discovered in the British Library in London and the Bodleian in Oxford. It appears that the stash had been concealed by scholars in an attempt to preserve the writer's image. The naughty material was unearthed by the academic James Hawes, whose forthcoming book, "Excavating Kafka," will reveal some of the pornographic material. "These are not naughty post-cards from the beach," Mr. Hawes was quoted as saying in the Times of London, to counter any objections that Kafka would never have gone in for this sort of thing. "They are undoubtedly porn, pure and simple. Some of it is quite dark. It's quite unpleasant."

As for the long-standing secret of Kafka's tastes, Mr. Hawes said: "Academics have pretended it did not exist. The Kafka industry doesn't want to know such things about its idol." Mr. Hawes was also quoted in the Times as saying there are more dissertations written on Kafka than on any other author except Shakespeare. The number should only increase with these findings.

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August is the month that comedy and theater — or at least their spirits — leave London for Edinburgh. The Edinburgh Festival, under whose umbrella exists the Fringe (regarded as the last word in British comedy) and a variety of other festivals, has got off to a rollicking start. This is despite fears that the move by the Festival's big four venue operators to launch a breakaway Comedy Festival within the Fringe would create a bad atmosphere. Quite the contrary: initial reviews describe an excited atmosphere and lots of new talent. Felix Dexter, of "The Real McCoy" and "Absolutely Fabulous" fame, launched an hour-long show that went down a storm, as did newcomers Josh Howie and Sarah Millican. Newcomers at Edinburgh are watched closely; those that prove a hit often become major comedy stars: Think Ricky Gervais and Brendan Burns.

Wrote author and books editor Stephanie Merritt in the Observer: "Even the grisly weather couldn't dampen the anticipation of comics and
audiences embarking on a month-long marathon of comedy in which some of the most exciting work is coming from first-timers." And it's only just beginning.

By Zoe Strimpel | Tue, 5 Aug 2008 at 12:28 PM | Permalink

At the National, Some Trace of 'The Idiot'

The National Theatre is associated with "proper" theater: big, luxuriant, expensive, and expansive productions of heavy hitters from Michael Frayn to Tennessee Williams, Beckett, and Shakespeare. Indeed, that's been my experience of the place. Bit of a shock last night, then, to find myself at the Cottesloe (the National's most intimate theater, tucked around the side of the main building) for a play ominously entitled "…some trace of her," directed by Katie Mitchell.

A title containing no capitals and three dots is a warning sign for me, cautioning me that something thinks it's cleverer than it is. Well, "…some trace of her" may, in fact, have been cleverer than me. It is a sequence of "reimagined filmic shots" based on Dostoevsky's "The Idiot" (the adaptation is credited to "Katie Mitchell and the company"), requiring mind-bogglingly complex staging.

A big screen appears, and the arty, black-and-white scenes that appear on it are coming from hastily arranged shots onstage. It takes a while to realize that the screen is a real-time reflection of what's happening in front of us. Indeed, the stage is somewhere between a film set and a theater's backstage with props, cameras, and costume wardrobes galore. The actors themselves are part characters, part stagehands, and part producers, all wielding cameras when they aren't, well, acting.

The structure of the performance does not allow for any coherent buildup of story, and I imagine you're a little in the dark if you don't know the Dostoevsky. (I didn't.) Basically, this is a sequence of set pieces: some impressive, even mesmeric in their dramatic tension. But in no way does this play draw you in, and I'll wager I'm not the only National regular who came away scratching her head.

By Zoe Strimpel | Thu, 31 Jul 2008 at 10:20 PM | Permalink

A Social Worker Makes the Booker Long List

A 63-year-old social worker from Birmingham has been announced as one of 13 contenders on the long list for the Man Booker Prize, Britain's famous literary honor. It's a satisfying victory for Gaynor Arnold, whose manuscript was initially rejected by publishers and a literary agency. Her debut novel, "Girl in a Blue Dress," is about Charles Dickens's loveless marriage, and the judges are said to have proclaimed on reading it: "Here is somebody who can tell a story." Ms. Arnold may be modest, but she sure is educated, having studied English at Oxford.

Among those she's up against: Salman Rushdie with "The Enchantress of Florence," Linda Grant with "The Clothes on Their Backs," and Amitav Ghosh with "Sea of Poppies."

By Zoe Strimpel | Thu, 31 Jul 2008 at 9:52 PM | Permalink

Damien Hirst: Genius or Sell-Out?

"His reputation is a little wobbly now," the editor of a fine arts publication called the Burlington Magazine, Richard Shone, told the Times of London. He was speaking about Damien Hirst, details of whose sale at Sotheby's this September, called "Beautiful Inside My Head Forever," have been released.

"Beautiful" is expected to make at least £65 million ($128.7 million), which for a single artist borders on the obscene and is evidence of selling out. At least, that's the sentiment behind Mr. Shone's comment and the feeling of many art watchers, who regard Mr. Hirst's use of the auction as a money-grubbing publicity stunt and a rejection of the gallery system. It has been reported that Larry Gagosian and Jay Jopling, whose galleries represent him, are "supportive" of the sale, in which pretty standard Hirst fare (formaldehyde-soaked animals, etc.) made in the last two years will go under the hammer.

Whether Hirst is a genius or a sell-out is a good question. Whether there's even a difference these days is another.

By Zoe Strimpel | Tue, 29 Jul 2008 at 10:14 PM | Permalink

Cross-Generational Fare: 'Doctor Who' at the Proms

Those who assume the BBC Proms are a stuffy classical music festival with nothing to offer anyone under 40 should think again. Last night's concert was nothing less than a paean to the "Doctor Who" television series, complete with the Tardis lit up in the middle of the stage, Daleks, Cybermen, and other aliens running around. The cult of the BBC show goes deep and wide in British culture, crossing right between the generations so that it was unclear on Sunday who was more excited to be there: the parents or their children. The concert kicked off with a specially filmed scene before moving into theme songs from the series. There was Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man," Holst's "The Planets" (Jupiter), and Wagner's stupendous "Ride of the Valkyries." History, heritage, aliens, and Wagner. What's not to love?

By Zoe Strimpel | Mon, 28 Jul 2008 at 10:50 PM | Permalink

Watching Kylie Minogue From the VIP Bubble

Time was, a pop concert meant gay men, sweaty teens, and girlfriends on a night out standing, swaying, and spending at least half an hour of the show in line for a Coke and nachos. In England, replace nachos with "chips." A "VIP experience" at a pop concert? Only for celebrities and royals. Anyway, times have changed.

In London, a city in the grip of a taste for luxury and the good things in life with or without the funds to support such preferences (I find myself caring unduly about the precise source of the British beef I order in restaurants and swooning over such seasonal foods as samphire that I'd never even heard of a couple of years ago), even pop concerts have become a scene for wining, dining, and private viewing. On Saturday night I caught a glimpse of the new pop experience (if you have an extra £150 — or $299 — to burn), the occasion being a press evening at the Kylie Minogue show at the 02 Arena in Greenwich.

Gaucho Grill, the middling steakhouse chain, has a bizarrely swanky setup there (chandeliers and a sunken bar). We were whisked into a world of Veuve Clicquot, a dinner in a private dining room complete with wines from the "cellar," and, for the pièce de résistance, a box at the side of the arena from which Kylie could be viewed in VIP isolation. It was great, but there was something odd about bopping along with a three-course steak dinner in my belly and wine in the hand, my view unobstructed by fellow fans. The good life is all very well, but sometimes the old-fashioned way is just more fun.

By Zoe Strimpel | Mon, 28 Jul 2008 at 10:48 PM | Permalink

Oyster Gives Londoners a Free Ride (Whoops)

The smug, expensive Oyster card payment system that governs London's public transport failed this week for the second time this month, causing mayhem. Glee for "customers," many of whom were shooed through open barriers around the city as blushing officials looked on. Who doesn't like a free ride? It struck me as a good exchange after the five minutes I had to wait to get to the front of a solid wall of people trying to pass through the gates at London Bridge on Thursday.

But there was another sense of glee in the air, derived from the fact that the sleek blue wallets — Mayor Ken Livingstone's brainchild but a sorry attempt to disguise the excruciating cost of riding the Tube — had failed "once again." Screamed the Evening Standard, whose bread and butter is London transport screw-ups, the weather, and bashing the former mayor: "Hundreds of thousands of Tube passengers travelled free today as the Oyster card system failed again — the second time in two weeks."

This time, the software corruption meant that pre-paid Oyster cards could not be processed. Last time, the Oyster readers wiped the value of passengers' cards and charged everyone the maximum of £4 per journey. Certainly adds to the summer sizzle, British-style.

By Zoe Strimpel | Mon, 28 Jul 2008 at 4:02 PM | Permalink

At the Proms, 1958 Is Busting Out All Over

Somehow, it's Proms time again. The biggest classical music festival in the world has kicked off with fanfare: a week of sell-outs and near sell-outs, and the same electric atmosphere at the Royal Albert Hall. That the punters have been crowding in for their fix of Strauss, Elliot Carter, and Brahms shows classical music in Britain is in fine fettle — one in the eye of the doom-mongers who say it's all gone down the tubes in favor of thumping bass lines.

Roger Wright, director of the Proms, has chosen the program along the lines of the year 1958: when the beloved British composer Ralph Vaughan Williams died. Several of that year's programs are being replicated this season, and all five Rachmaninoff piano concertos are being played, as they were for the last time at the Proms 50 years ago. Sure beats recent Proms themes, which have included Shakespeare, water, and theater.

By Zoe Strimpel | Thu, 24 Jul 2008 at 8:52 PM | Permalink

Reluctant History Students, Hail British Museum's 'Hadrian'

All hail "Hadrian: Empire and Conflict," the British Museum's replacement for the Terracotta Army bonanza. And yes, it's good. Very good. And I speak as one for whom an interest in history has always been — sad to say — forced.

The masterstroke of the curators is to keep it simple, paired with a knack for storytelling. You're absorbed before you can say "Roman Empire": Just the map at the entrance showing how utterly huge it was does the trick. The plaques and inscriptions are short and sweet and don't try to throw in the entire Classical kitchen sink. And the interplay between words and pieces is seamless; for example, a display showing the complex relationships in Hadrian's immediate family makes its point by sitting four busts of the people in question in a row, connected by arrows with "wife/sister" or whatever between, and the story in neat boxes below.

It is quick and easy to absorb, and it sets you up for the rest of the show, in which family (of course) and Hadrian's lover Antinous play a big part. There are superb sections on Hadrian's role in Judea (roughly where modern-day Israel is), where his stifling of Jewish customs and finally expulsion of the Jews led to one of the most brutal uprisings Hadrian's army faced. And of course, the strongest hook for British audiences is Hadrian's Wall: the big fortification in the north of England, marking the northernmost perimeter of the Empire. Anyone visiting London should definitely visit the exhibit. Especially if they're reluctant history students and wish it wasn't so.

By Zoe Strimpel | Thu, 24 Jul 2008 at 8:23 PM | Permalink

Sniffing at Sainsbury's Gifts

Simon Sainsbury, of the Sainsbury's supermarket dynasty, left 13 paintings to Tate Britain and five to the National Gallery at a total value of £100 million ($200 million). Tate gets the bulk of the works, though the National Gallery is the institution most associated with his generosity. The Gallery has a whole Sainsbury wing, of which the late donor contributed a third of the cost — a £12 million tab ($24 million at the current exchange rate). Sainsbury, who died in 2006, also oversaw a refurbishment of the Gallery, including fresh fabrics and rehangings.

This bequest has raised eyebrows for its, well, awkwardness. Art watchers such as the influential critic Brian Sewell have used it as an occasion to question the appropriateness of Sainsbury's generosity; he maintains that the quality of the works in the bequest is far inferior to that of works such institutions should be scrabbling to hang. Snubbing a gift from a donor such as this would be very tricky indeed — but Mr. Sewell says he'd do it. He'd sell them and buy better pictures, more "essential" to "the heritage."

All 18 of the works are on display at Tate Britain until October 5. The National Gallery's bequest includes Monet's "Snow Scene" at Argenteuil (1875) and "Water Lilies, Setting Sun" (c. 1907) as well as a Rousseau portrait of Joseph Brummer (1909). Tate's got Francis Bacon's "Study for a Portrait" (1952), Lucian Freud's "The Painter's Mother" (1972) and — far older — Thomas Gainsborough's "Mr and Mrs Carter" (c. 1747), among others. Some may sniff, but it doesn't sound half bad. And in the cash-strapped world of national heritage, snubbing a donor like Sainsbury just wouldn't have done, whatever Mr. Sewell says.

By Zoe Strimpel | Tue, 22 Jul 2008 at 4:04 PM | Permalink

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