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Fortnight Publications Ltd.
After the Ball Is OverAuthor(s): Mark StoreySource: Fortnight, No. 94 (Nov. 29, 1974), pp. 15-16Published by: Fortnight Publications Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25545251 .
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FRIDAY 29th NOVEMBER 1974/15
'A Journey' is to my mind the best of the stories in this group. It
contains the most viable male
character in the book, a trade
unionist of Belfast origin who is
possessed of what MacNeicc called 'the cold hard fire of the northern
er'. This character pathetically but
touchingly shows off before a
socially superior woman with whom he is never at ease, except in- bed.
Their meeting was a lluke. their brief affair an interlude, 'and they would be together or not be
together as life the gaffer thought lit.' A hard little nugget of a story,
but it is marred by the anecdote of
It a. who went to bed with Jim for a
week, and was so sore thai she
finally had to have stitches, this
erotic detail is gratuitous and false to the tone of the tale. The balance
of a story should not be risked for so negligible a return.
In style 'A Scandalous Woman' is less blatantly sensual, less
glamorous and gimmicky, than 'The Love Object'. Its language is
cool, crisp and direct. In content. Miss O'Brien has moved away from facile eroticism to explore human contacts (or the lack o\ human con tacts) of a more subtle and complex kind. In sum, a scandalously good book.
Guinea Pigs Mike Walford
John McGuffin The Guinea Pigs (Penguin Books)
This is a hard-hitting book. At times
it is sarcastic to the point of
bitterness, at other times it is
macabre and witty, but it is always incisive. The contents of the book are probably not too much of a
surprise to those living in Northern
Ireland. Its main contentions are
that the population as a whole and 14 people in particular are and were
respectively being used as 'Guinea
Pigs' to perfect methods of internal
security, both in terms of
interrogation techniques and also in
methods of turning people against guerillas, as well as the introduction of new methods of'crowd control'.
The main portion of the book is concerned with the arrest and sub
sequent eight day long interrogation session of 12 men who were 'lifted' on internment day. McGuffin's idea is that these men were unwittingly
picked out as the subjects of a
particularly vicious experiment, which was to test out new sensory de
privation methods like hooding, standing at a wall for hours on end (an innocuous sounding but rather
nasty invention ofthe Russian secret
police called the 'Stoika'), and also continual high pitched sound in the
background (white noise). At the same time there was almost total
sleep deprivation and food depriva tion for eight days. McGuffin has used a lot of documentary evidence to show conclusively that this all
happened and was done quite deliberately. The real sting comes when he accuses the Army of not
being interested with information on the IRA but in testing out how far and effectively they could go in their
sensory deprivation techniques. To back up this controversial idea
McGuffin draws on a wide range of circumstantial evidence which when added together makes a very
convincing argument. One major [argument is that it is impossible
under 'normal' laboratory condi
tions to carry out absolutely disorienting tests, for the simple reason that a paid volunteer or a
volunteer from the armed services knows that however frightening the
experience that they are not going to be killed or purposely driven mad. The introduction of internment was however a magnificent oppor
tunity to pick some subjects and take them the full distance carefully recording all their reactions. These
people had no idea what was
happening to them or where they were, in fact they were in a condition of blind terror. The second
important piece of evidence was that
only some of the men were in the IRA and those that were only very small cogs. Had the interrogations been for the purpose of extracting information surely the Army
would have concentrated on the
bigger fish? The things that all these men had in common were the facts that they were all young men and all
physically in very good shape. The fact that they were young and not
experienced meant that they would not guess what was happening to them and also they would have not
much idea about resisting these
techniques. McGuffin also thinks that the Compton Report on these
allegations of torture, actually achieved its main task which was to cover up the real reasons for the torture. The Press totally destroyed the Compton Report which made
extremely inept attempts to whitewash the whole affair. But the row about "brutality" and "ill treat
ment" served to obscure the
experimental nature of the whole
operation. The book also follows up what
happened to these men. A lot of them have been released for a long time and live at the same places,
which should be comment enough on their level of involvement. As far as their mental condition is concerned there is cause for alarm. There has been no official attempt to find out about the effects on these
men. but they are all still suffering
after-effects such as acute paranoia,
blacking-out phases and more
generalised nervous ailments such as tics. Several of them have been
awarded damages in court in
unopposed cases? presumably the Government prefers to keep a low
profile. Perhaps the most significant part
of the book is contained in the final
chapters, where incidents and facts
about institutional initiatives on
sensory deprivation as well as other
aspects of the beginning of 'Strong Statism' are creeping in. The case of
the Baader-Mcinhof group in
Germany is a good example. Ulriche Meinhof was brought to court in
such a nervous state that there was a
huge row. But the German police barracks now have special cells,
designed, with advice presumably from the Army, to facilitate sensory
deprivation methods, as highlighted
in ihe international press. More
recently in Britain the Sundav limes discovered the ominous
development of a special punish ment wing in Wakefield jail which
they were trying out on some
prisoners who were on the edge of nervous reakdowns. Is it possible that Britain is going to create an
improved version of the Brazilian
dungeons in case they need to hold
political prisoners? It is an open secret that the Police Special Patrol
Group in England gets training from the army, and as the main
purpose of the SPG is to break
pickets one is left wondering when the first rubber bullets are going to
be fired at miners or power workers,
particularly in the light of the
deepening economic crisis?still, in the cryptic words ofthe author ". . .
don't worrv there's still ten vears to l?84."
Festival Music_
After the Ball is Over
The last two weeks have been very
jolly, and I say that with more than the taste of garlic bread lingering
on, and not just because I dreamt last night of David Cutts cursing all the people he had to give Press
passes to. Mind you. the garlic bread was very good, even when the concert before it wasn't, and it deserves a little fanfare of its own. In
fact, when you think about it, and
thinking is not easy on the last
Sunday of the Festival, there are a
number of pleasant gastronomic memories which could well account for a general disarming of the
critical faculties. (A subtle ploy, that, sir!) This year's Festival,
whatever it,might have looked like on paper beforehand, has managed to create a pleasantly relaxed
atmosphere, in which there has been
plenty to enjoy.
|ftook&\\s I
I #US%& COOKERY I
^H ^^ Irish Countryhouse ^H ^H Cooking ^H
^H /?os/e 77r?r?e ^H ^H CpADT A superb collection of
^H ^H
^" ^ recipes from Ireland's ^H
^H One Hundred Years of famous country houses.
^H ^H
Irish Rugby ?4-95 _H ^H Edmund Van Esbeck
^H ^H
All the personalities, ^H
^H games and statistics. The HUMOUR ^1 ^H perfect gift for the rugby M , _ _H
enthus.ast. ?3.75 Don't Shoot I'm Not
^H Well ^M ^H Tec/ Bonner ^H ^B
A book for dipping into ^H H POETRY last tmn9 at night. That H
^B . _,. J . ?s ?f you sleep better after ^| Another Kind of a hearty ,au h - H
^B Optimism H
^m Basil Payne ^M
^H A collection of poems,
^H ^H
some humerous, some ^H
^H serious, which convey ^H ^M
love and loneliness, _ ^B ^B loyalty an-" loss. fTpTl _H ?2.45 8& L-LLLI QHI and Macmillan
-
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16/FORTNIGHT It's impossible to give a fair
account of all that has taken place. Nor have there been themes
pursued, to give unity to the
proceedings. In practice this has not
mattered, and the principle of
something for everyone, usually enunciated at Festival time, has
operated pretty successfully. As last
year the Studio Opera Group was
performing in the Arts Theatre. I
didn't get to Hansel and Gretel, but
gather that it was something of a hit.
especially for the children in the audience. It was only a pity that
Menotti didn't have much appeal, because here was a double bill that
would surely have won a lot of
people over to opera. The Telephone is a light, inconsequential piece, but as sung by John Dallas and Irene Sandford (rather inappositely clad) it had pace and humour. Nothing troubling, admittedly, but a good curtain raiser to The Medium, a real
bit of unadulterated melodrama. Here we were, back in the seedy world exploited by Menotti in The
Consul, and everyone rose to the
occasion. Mary Gilmore, as the heroine (if that's the right word for
the crooked medium driven to mad
despair and eventually murder) had the measure ofthe part, histrionics and all, and she was well supported by ihc rest of the cast.
Pretension there was in this Festival, as in all festivals. It reared its head
rather disturbingly in a concert
given in the Ulster Museum by a
young group of musicians called
Deamtiger, for no very good reason
and no doubt for some very bad reason. Dreamtiger was rather an
amorphous group, with very few of
its members playing the same
instrument twice: this in itself is
distracting and often unnecessary, in that there's no real point in
having three pianists in the same
group, whether or not they can play
anything else. The programme too was amorphous, with bits and pieces that had little enough relation to
each other. There were works of
substance, but we had to wait for
these, and the concert got off to such a bad start that it was inconceivable that Messiaen and Schoenberg
would survive. This is where the
pretension came in. In a bid to cash in on the Scott Joplin vogue, the
group played a couple of rags,
arranged by their director, Douglas
Young. The arrangements were
travesties of the originals, the
performances pretty disastrous. It was hardly surprising that Charles Ives's Largo for violin, clarinet and
piano sounded rather unconvincing after that: it's an unconvincing work
anyway, but strangely haunting in a
perverse sort of way. (I keep getting bits ofthe bizarre violin line floating through my head.) Yitkin Seow
threw down his viola to play a couple of Ravel piano pieces, nicely
enough, but rather so-whatish.
Kathryn Lucas, the flautist, played solo items by Varese and Berio. but
this was all merely pate de maison. before Webern's classic arrange ment of Schoenberg's Chamber
Symphony. Here the group did show
its claws, though I must confess that
Sehoenberg's original version seems
to me to be that much richer and more satisfying. However, let that
pass, here we are at the interval, a
few nips of red wine, and then the
piece we've come for. Messiaen's
Quartet for the End of Time.
Contrary to expectation, the group achieved here what had eluded them earlier: they got to grips with a
stunningly complex work and laid
bare what seemed to matter most. It was not a great performance. But it
had great moments, especially that endless melodic line from the cello
in 'Louange a l?Eternitie de Jesus',
suspended over quiet chords on the
piano: here the maturity of vision of the cellist, Rohan de Saram, shone
through. This was rapt playing of
the utmost beauty and poise. And
remarkably Monica Huggett on the
violin matched this quality in the final movement, where she echoes the cello's earlier meditation.
Of course, there are softnesses and softnesses, as the concert given
by Swingle II demonstrated. This
was in the Whitla Hall, where a
South American group, Urubamba was also playing as a fillup. There's a limit to what you can do with a
charango, a bamboo flute and drums made from tree trunks, and
everything the group played tended to sound like the last piece. That's not to say they weren't an extremely nice, gentle group, obviously absorbed in their music, delighting in its primitive simplicities and sonorities. But a whole concert
would wear thin. The reincarnation of the Swingle Singers was
sufficiently subtle for most people not to be able to tell the difference.
The main change is that this lot are
English, and that means they are
'products of the invaluable English choral tradition' which has already produced King's College Choir and Julie Andrews. This group, and its
predecessor, is a remarkable
phenomenon. It consists of eight hand picked singers who rely on the
microphone and a sound mixer for their effects. What this means is
that they never sing above piano. There is no denying their
astonishing vocal skill and range. But the musical rewards were
negligible.
Well if you wanted real purity, you couldn't have done betfer than gone to hear Eduard Melkus play
unaccompanied Bach on a baroque violin. This was music unadorned and straight from the shoulder
(literally) perhaps a little dry and
academic for my taste, but never , dull. Melkus played with commit
ment and liveliness. Of course, his instrument lacked the body that we
almost take for granted in modern
fiddle playing, and the thin tone, however authentic, robbed the
music of some of its reverberations. But it was an achievement to bring off such an austere programme, and to draw a packed house at the same
time. If the string quartet as a genre has
a reputation for austerity, the
Allcgri did their best to dispel it in
their two Elm wood Hall concerts.
They have made quite a name as
interpreters of Shostakovich, and
they may well be happier in these more approachable works than in
Mo/art. Certainly they made the two Russian quartets they played (Nos 7 and 8) immediately accessible. Their Mozart was good, iii places extremely good, but
occasionally a bit slap-happy. The second week of the Festival
ended with two major events: the B Minor Mass performed by the
Belfast Philharmonic Society and the Ulster Orchestra with Leonard
Pugh (who earlier had shown what
they could do in Schubert's Ninth), and a jazz concert with Humphrey Lytttleton and Buddy Tate. It is sad to report that the first event was a
long way short of ideal. The soloists sat looking justifiably glum for
much of the time, as behind them
the choir roamed aimlessly and
painfully through one ofthe greatest choral works there is (but never
meant to be sung by a crowd that
big). There was little life in the
Orchestra, and a monumental
cock-up at the start of the Agnus Dei. On to Humphrey, as staid as
the rest of his band, but still in
command, his lip as controlled as
ever. Jazz in the Whitla Hall is rather like holding a religious service in the Guinness Spot (in reverse), and this final concert, even
with Buddy Tate livening things up in the second half, never really
rippled and rumbled as some of the lesser events in the South Dining
Hall did. As was expected, insistent
applause ruined most items at
crucial junctures. There's lots I've missed out. And.
oh dear oh dear, this all sounds rather mean-spirited for someone
who says he's been enjoying himself. I swear I've enjoyed it all, and
proffer thanks to the Director and his staff for laving it all on. I look
forward to next time. (And if you're still not convinced, you should see
me when I'm miserable.)
Mark Store}
The poems _^_B_^_^_B_|_D^?^__|__"^9^_^_H taken from Anthony _____________wS_t^0m^t^SS___m Weir's book of translations ^^^^^^^^^^k_r^^i_i___k *^L^H
be published by _____________L^^/Yfa_fc^____________H in December ^^^^^^^^ {J_^___9^_j_________|
CarlBagge ^^HA T_im ___fj______B ENORMOUS BULLS i_^R ^fl| l_f(_______[
Enormous bulls _____ ? if _____!_______}
^^^7 I^SBf^^B ^^b Al ^__E__K_H
through calf-stencils ^V AM \H|^H|^H in Christian comfort.
^B _fl__7 HJ___B___i
Arthur Rimbaud
THE PLUNDERED HEART My poor heart's dribbling at the stern,
my heart covered in nicotine:
they squirt soup onto it in turn.
my poor heart's dribbling at the stern:
beneath the quipping unconcern
of sailors raucously obscene,
my poor heart's dribbling at the stern,
my heart covered in nicotine!
Ithyphallic. erkish, lewd, their dirty jokes have tainted it!
In the wheelhouse there are crude
graffiti, ithyphallic. lewd.
O let my heart be cleansed, renewed
by wondrous waves immersing it!
Ithyphallic, erkish, lewd, their dirty jokes have tainted it!
When they have chewed their quids to pulp. O plundered heart, what shall I do?
Bacchic hiccups, sniggers, yelps. When they have chewed their quids to pulp: my guts (if I can only gulp my heart back) will be churning, too:
when they have chewed their quids to pulp, O plundered heart, what shall I do?
Carl Bagge HAS DIED
Has died was one of was born was one of to the last
who was
who came to
who became and who was
if he had
and was
that was
it was was
was not so very who was
but will
it came
all who
who had
always so faithful
and the children.
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