A very, very big Thank You to the team at Warwick Words for what turned out to be a lovely event yesterday.
It was the first time I've ever visited the Lord Leycester Hospital in Warwick - about as Shakespearean a building as you could hope to find.
Kim and I gave ourselves plenty of time to mooch around Warwick town centre (which is well worth a visit), to pop into Warwick Books (closely involved with the Warwick Words festival) and grab an excellent bite of lunch at Wylies Tea Room. Then back to the Lord Leycester to prepare for my hour-long talk and book signing.
An excellent turnout, with tea and cake to follow, and I met some wonderful people. Signed a few books, too. All in all, a great day out.
So - in the past two months, I have given hour-long talks about "Arthur and the Grail" at Pagan Pride and "Who Killed William Shakespeare?" at the Warwick Words festival. And I'm really getting to enjoy doing this. Mind you, it helps when the organisers are so friendly and amenable.
Once again, thanks to all those who attended, and special thanks to Keith and Helen at the festival. May it grow and prosper!
The Future of History
Sunday, 6 October 2013
Friday, 4 October 2013
The Terrible Desire
The latest chapter of The Grail; Relic of an Ancient Religion has just gone live on the Moon Books blog.
I've entitled this chapter The Terrible Desire, after what was, I believe, the original meaning of the (rather corrupted) term "Holy Grail".
Also in this chapter, I follow up and expand upon material previously published in The King Arthur Conspiracy on what the original "Grail" actually looked like and what its real purpose was.
And, as ever, there's a great new image by Lloyd Canning accompanying the chapter.
So ... nine chapters down, three to go! Coming up: new information and evidence on Arthur's last battle (i.e., where Camlann was, exactly, and what happened there) and something I find really exciting - existing evidence for the "Grail" in the vicinity of the battlefield. Yes, you can see the actual Grail actually in use there!
I can hardly wait to let you in on that little secret, so please do keep watching. Meantime, I'm off to prepare for my book signing and talk on Who Killed William Shakespeare? at Warwick Words tomorrow.
Have a great weekend!
I've entitled this chapter The Terrible Desire, after what was, I believe, the original meaning of the (rather corrupted) term "Holy Grail".
Also in this chapter, I follow up and expand upon material previously published in The King Arthur Conspiracy on what the original "Grail" actually looked like and what its real purpose was.
And, as ever, there's a great new image by Lloyd Canning accompanying the chapter.
So ... nine chapters down, three to go! Coming up: new information and evidence on Arthur's last battle (i.e., where Camlann was, exactly, and what happened there) and something I find really exciting - existing evidence for the "Grail" in the vicinity of the battlefield. Yes, you can see the actual Grail actually in use there!
I can hardly wait to let you in on that little secret, so please do keep watching. Meantime, I'm off to prepare for my book signing and talk on Who Killed William Shakespeare? at Warwick Words tomorrow.
Have a great weekend!
Thursday, 3 October 2013
Journey to the Dark Goddess
One of the major drawbacks of our modern world is our utterly unrealistic way of thinking. Call it "unreasonable expectations".
We want rampant economic growth, seasonal produce available all year round (and perfect, of course), lights on 24 hours a day, success, progress, advance - and, with our undiminished desire to raise global temperatures, a sort of never-ending summer.
This is all wrong. There is no light without darkness, no summer without winter. Action and reaction are equal and opposite. To go forwards, we must first step back.
Somewhere in our past, we forgot all that. Our thinking was corrupted. Any sense that we are losing, suffering, sinking became stigmatised (we see it today in Britain, most forcefully, in the ever-growing discrimination against people with physical disabilities or mental health issues). Somehow, it became "wrong" to be in a dark place.
Jane Meredith's Journey to the Dark Goddess, subtitled "How to Return to Your Soul" and published by Moon Books, illustrates why such perverse ways of thinking are so inappropriate. Because what the people of the ancient world knew only too well is that we must honour the darkness as much as we welcome the light. We must embrace death with as much reverence as we greet life. Nakedness, loneliness, illness are all valid and necessary aspects of existence.
Or, if you will, we need to be reminded that recession is as important as growth, darkness as vital as light, regression as inevitable as progress.
Meredith focuses her investigation on three ancient goddess myths - that of the Sumerian Inanna (Ishtar to the Babylonians) and the Greek myths of Psyche and Persephone. Each one involves a descent into the Underworld, the place of death and decay, which is also a place of rebirth.
The book takes a logical, practical approach to the necessary experience of going down into our innermost selves - the descent, that is, of the goddess to the place of no return. In four major sections, Meredith guides the reader through the period of Preparation, the process of Descent, the time spent in the Underworld, and the Ascent or return to the upperworld of "ordinary" life.
This is not a book which can be read quickly, and there is purpose and design at work in that. Meredith uses some clever tricks to relay her messages, repeating each one - as it were - in different ways. Myths are related, personal experiences described, past rituals recounted, future rituals mapped out. These changes of tone or approach break up the material, making it easier to swallow and reinforcing the importance of each stage in the journey. At the same time, each subsection feels as though it should be assimilated and digested before moving onto the next. The book itself is a process of descent and ascent, of going down and rising up, of plunging into the darkness before coming back to the light.
As any good book on what is essentially a religious theme should, Journey to the Dark Goddess prompts a sort of ongoing evaluation of the reader's life. This is intentional, on Jane Meredith's part. How much of your life have you spent (unknowingly) in the Underworld? Are you there now? At what moments did your life fall apart - and did you fight the descent, the "call" of the Underworld, or did you simply vanish into the abyss? Did you try to return, only to find - many months later - that you never really made it back?
These are big questions for the reader to consider. Fortunately, Meredith provides guidelines for several uncluttered rituals which can help, and which together amount to a deliberate and controlled re-enactment of the journey of descent and ascent. She invites the reader to replicate the sacrificial journey of Inanna, shedding seven layers of pride and defensiveness as she ventures into the unknown. Thus, the reader is offered the chance to cleanse herself, sloughing off the numerous skins we all wear, until there is nothing left. From that position of emptiness, nakedness, nothingness - symbolised by the goddess hanging dead on a meat hook, her infernal sister suffering the pangs of her rebirth - a stronger, wiser, better adjusted self can emerge.
Ultimately, Journey to the Dark Goddess is a practical guide, and so best recommended to someone who is ready to undertake the descent and/or to work through any past issues with the "Underworld" part of our nature. It also has a value for the storytellers among us, for the pattern of preparation - descent - "death" - ascent is a perennial model for the journey of the hero.
At the same time, though, the book serves as an excellent reminder of how skewed our thinking is these days. Because we have been taught (by religion, by politics) only to look on the bright side, to go for growth, to eschew anything "dark" and "infernal", we have ruined ourselves, our families, our environment. The Dark Goddess is angry. To some extent, she always is. But if we try to ignore her, we end up worse off.
A timely text, then - for alongside the personal journey, the necessary descent into the place of death, decay, darkness, from which we can come back if we know how, there is the wider issue: that, for as long as we ignore and reject the darkness of the Underworld and its reigning deities, those forces will always catch us unawares. And we have been trying to ignore and reject the goddess for far too long now, at a massive and ever-increasing economic and planetary cost.
Time, then, to give the Dark Goddess her due - both for our individual health and sanity, and for that of the planet itself. In this book, Jane Meredith shows us how to make a practical start.
We want rampant economic growth, seasonal produce available all year round (and perfect, of course), lights on 24 hours a day, success, progress, advance - and, with our undiminished desire to raise global temperatures, a sort of never-ending summer.
This is all wrong. There is no light without darkness, no summer without winter. Action and reaction are equal and opposite. To go forwards, we must first step back.
Somewhere in our past, we forgot all that. Our thinking was corrupted. Any sense that we are losing, suffering, sinking became stigmatised (we see it today in Britain, most forcefully, in the ever-growing discrimination against people with physical disabilities or mental health issues). Somehow, it became "wrong" to be in a dark place.
Jane Meredith's Journey to the Dark Goddess, subtitled "How to Return to Your Soul" and published by Moon Books, illustrates why such perverse ways of thinking are so inappropriate. Because what the people of the ancient world knew only too well is that we must honour the darkness as much as we welcome the light. We must embrace death with as much reverence as we greet life. Nakedness, loneliness, illness are all valid and necessary aspects of existence.
Or, if you will, we need to be reminded that recession is as important as growth, darkness as vital as light, regression as inevitable as progress.
Meredith focuses her investigation on three ancient goddess myths - that of the Sumerian Inanna (Ishtar to the Babylonians) and the Greek myths of Psyche and Persephone. Each one involves a descent into the Underworld, the place of death and decay, which is also a place of rebirth.
The book takes a logical, practical approach to the necessary experience of going down into our innermost selves - the descent, that is, of the goddess to the place of no return. In four major sections, Meredith guides the reader through the period of Preparation, the process of Descent, the time spent in the Underworld, and the Ascent or return to the upperworld of "ordinary" life.
This is not a book which can be read quickly, and there is purpose and design at work in that. Meredith uses some clever tricks to relay her messages, repeating each one - as it were - in different ways. Myths are related, personal experiences described, past rituals recounted, future rituals mapped out. These changes of tone or approach break up the material, making it easier to swallow and reinforcing the importance of each stage in the journey. At the same time, each subsection feels as though it should be assimilated and digested before moving onto the next. The book itself is a process of descent and ascent, of going down and rising up, of plunging into the darkness before coming back to the light.
As any good book on what is essentially a religious theme should, Journey to the Dark Goddess prompts a sort of ongoing evaluation of the reader's life. This is intentional, on Jane Meredith's part. How much of your life have you spent (unknowingly) in the Underworld? Are you there now? At what moments did your life fall apart - and did you fight the descent, the "call" of the Underworld, or did you simply vanish into the abyss? Did you try to return, only to find - many months later - that you never really made it back?
These are big questions for the reader to consider. Fortunately, Meredith provides guidelines for several uncluttered rituals which can help, and which together amount to a deliberate and controlled re-enactment of the journey of descent and ascent. She invites the reader to replicate the sacrificial journey of Inanna, shedding seven layers of pride and defensiveness as she ventures into the unknown. Thus, the reader is offered the chance to cleanse herself, sloughing off the numerous skins we all wear, until there is nothing left. From that position of emptiness, nakedness, nothingness - symbolised by the goddess hanging dead on a meat hook, her infernal sister suffering the pangs of her rebirth - a stronger, wiser, better adjusted self can emerge.
Ultimately, Journey to the Dark Goddess is a practical guide, and so best recommended to someone who is ready to undertake the descent and/or to work through any past issues with the "Underworld" part of our nature. It also has a value for the storytellers among us, for the pattern of preparation - descent - "death" - ascent is a perennial model for the journey of the hero.
At the same time, though, the book serves as an excellent reminder of how skewed our thinking is these days. Because we have been taught (by religion, by politics) only to look on the bright side, to go for growth, to eschew anything "dark" and "infernal", we have ruined ourselves, our families, our environment. The Dark Goddess is angry. To some extent, she always is. But if we try to ignore her, we end up worse off.
A timely text, then - for alongside the personal journey, the necessary descent into the place of death, decay, darkness, from which we can come back if we know how, there is the wider issue: that, for as long as we ignore and reject the darkness of the Underworld and its reigning deities, those forces will always catch us unawares. And we have been trying to ignore and reject the goddess for far too long now, at a massive and ever-increasing economic and planetary cost.
Time, then, to give the Dark Goddess her due - both for our individual health and sanity, and for that of the planet itself. In this book, Jane Meredith shows us how to make a practical start.
Monday, 30 September 2013
Review Group Blog Interview
It's my lucky week!!!
After Hereward Proop's lovely interview with me about Who Killed William Shakespeare? for Booksquawk (see below), I now have a fantastic interview about The King Arthur Conspiracy with Stephanie Moore Hopkins - it's just gone live. Check it out:
Interview with Author Simon Andrew Stirling
I feel very honoured and privileged, and it's just the boost I need as I prepare for my talk at the Warwick Words Literary Festival this coming weekend. More on that to follow.
For now, though, rather than me wittering on, please visit the Review Group Blog by clicking the link above.
And let me take this opportunity to thank Stephanie very much indeed for her great review and interview!
After Hereward Proop's lovely interview with me about Who Killed William Shakespeare? for Booksquawk (see below), I now have a fantastic interview about The King Arthur Conspiracy with Stephanie Moore Hopkins - it's just gone live. Check it out:
Interview with Author Simon Andrew Stirling
I feel very honoured and privileged, and it's just the boost I need as I prepare for my talk at the Warwick Words Literary Festival this coming weekend. More on that to follow.
For now, though, rather than me wittering on, please visit the Review Group Blog by clicking the link above.
And let me take this opportunity to thank Stephanie very much indeed for her great review and interview!
Friday, 27 September 2013
Booksquawk Review
Busy, busy, busy ... mostly working on The Grail; Relic of an Ancient Religion for Moon Books and finding more and more evidence that Arthur's last battle was fought in Strathmore, around the town of Alyth. More evidence, in fact, than I could get into one chapter.
But that's all work-in-progress, and I'll happily update you as we go along. For now, though, as it's Friday, I would very much like to share with you this excellent review, just in, of Who Killed William Shakespeare?
There's an interview to go with the review - this becoming the new normal, these days, where the reviewer has some degree of contact with the author - and that'll be online shortly.
Now, I know that the most popular post I ever wrote was my recent one about Amazon reviews and the iniquitous behaviour of certain people on that site. In the case of the Booksquawk review, as posted above, I will hasten to say that I met the reviewer for the first time at the Who Killed William Shakespeare? book launch in Stratford a month ago. But I knew him well enough online as a fellow author to expect a thoroughly objective and honest appraisal of my book. Which, I believe, is what he has done. And it's a good 'un.
TTFN!
But that's all work-in-progress, and I'll happily update you as we go along. For now, though, as it's Friday, I would very much like to share with you this excellent review, just in, of Who Killed William Shakespeare?
There's an interview to go with the review - this becoming the new normal, these days, where the reviewer has some degree of contact with the author - and that'll be online shortly.
Now, I know that the most popular post I ever wrote was my recent one about Amazon reviews and the iniquitous behaviour of certain people on that site. In the case of the Booksquawk review, as posted above, I will hasten to say that I met the reviewer for the first time at the Who Killed William Shakespeare? book launch in Stratford a month ago. But I knew him well enough online as a fellow author to expect a thoroughly objective and honest appraisal of my book. Which, I believe, is what he has done. And it's a good 'un.
TTFN!
Friday, 20 September 2013
The Hamlet Doctrine
I've not read it yet, but judging by this piece in the Guardian a new book by Simon Critchley and Jamieson Webster will be well worth a look.
It's called "The Hamlet Doctrine: Knowing Too Much, Doing Nothing", and it examines what various philosophers and psychoanalysts have said about Shakespeare's most famous play over the years.
Sound pretty dry? Well, maybe - but what really attracted me to the book is the way the authors introduce it in their Guardian piece. I quote:
"Shakespeare is too often identified with a misty-eyed, middlebrow, nostalgic and undemanding picture of England and Englishness. Indeed, the Shakespeare industry is dependent on the marketing of this image - both in the production of goods for domestic consumption (whether fridge magnets or outdoor summer stagings) and for export (the "Global Hamlet" in 102 countries). But there is a more radical and subversive version of Shakespeare, which is most clearly evident in his greatest and best-known play: Hamlet."
So far, so good (although there is a healthy argument to be had as to which of Will's plays is the most subversive). What really delights me is that Critchley and Webster are making much the same point as I've made in Who Killed William Shakespeare? and, indeed, repeatedly on this blog.
Basically, we have been sold a crock of sh*te about William Shakespeare. Don't get me wrong: he wrote the plays and the poems (it's a ridiculous canard that somebody else must have done all that hard work). But he wasn't what the Stratford clique and the academic establishment want us all to think he was.
To quote Critchley and Webster again: "The banal, biscuit-box Shakespeare needs to be broken up and his work made dangerous again."
YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!!!
But doing so is not that easy. Too many cultural commentators have too much invested in the smug, silly, Merrie Englande portrait of Will - the country lad, ever so 'umble, who made it big in London and then went back home and disappeared. Critchley and Webster explain that finding a publisher in the US for their Hamlet Doctrine wasn't difficult. But in the UK? Well, now. One rejection letter from a British publisher made the situation plain. Their book was "essentially unpublishable" because it was a "condemnation of the literary culture of my country".
The authors admit that, "in one sense, he's right: our book is an implicit condemnation of a certain, mainstream, version of English culture."
Well, good on them. That's exactly what we need. And it's exactly what I hope I've done with my own Shakespeare opus.
The question, however, remains: why do serious, thoughtful authors who do a little more digging into Shakespeare than the average face such blanket obstructionism from the mainstream - publishers, critics, the cronies of academia? Why?
The answer is this: the phoney, revisionist, tourist-friendly Shakespeare of popular renown belongs to a silly and ignorant vision of England's past. It is, to put it bluntly, the Conservative Party version of English history. It's not based on any sort of fact (except in the very broadest sense of the word) but on massive splashes of prejudice and flag-waving nationalism.
Shakespeare DID NOT write for these people. He saw the world around him as it was, and he channelled his disgust and his fury into his works.
And so, in order to prop up the self-satisfied and nonsensical "Rule, Britannia!" narrative of English history, Shakespeare has to be (a) neutralised, politically-speaking, and (b) completely misconstrued. That's why we have such a make-believe Shakespeare, these days, and why so many productions of his plays are so utterly meaningless and unintelligible. The cultural elite don't want anybody to hear what Shakespeare was saying. In fact, it's highly improbable that they understand him themselves, because their cultural prejudices won't allow them to.
That said, their historical revisionism creates an extremely flimsy and fragile view of the past. It cannot withstand the slightest scrutiny. This is why individuals such as the publisher quoted above respond with such sensitivity, such disdain, such horror to a proper study of Shakespeare. They have, essentially, wrapped themselves in a Union flag and willingly collaborated in rewriting the past, to make England seem like the eternal bastion of decency. Shakespeare, of course, has a place in that - but only as a sort of patron saint of conservative England. When you explain that he was no such thing, the right-wing revisionists shriek and holler - because you've threatened them with a bit of reality, and you're taking "their" Shakespeare from them.
It's as if the academics are on crutches - one crutch being a foolishly simplistic, "patriotic" view of English history; the other being Shakespeare as the perfect propagandist for such a stupid notion of our troubled past - and you've just come along and kicked one or other of their crutches away. You've made Shakespeare real again! How dare you!! When they've spent so much time and energy turning him into a bookmark, a T-shirt, and the least radical writer that ever lived!
So I applaud Critchley and Webster for attacking the cosy Shakespeare industry, and I welcome them as allies. Because, unless we can rescue the genuine Shakespeare from the cold, dead hands of the Middle Englanders, we will never hear his words and share his pain.
And that would be a far greater loss to us all than the shattering of an idiotic and irrelevant Shakespeare image, as sold to us by the guardians of "mainstream" culture.
It's called "The Hamlet Doctrine: Knowing Too Much, Doing Nothing", and it examines what various philosophers and psychoanalysts have said about Shakespeare's most famous play over the years.
Sound pretty dry? Well, maybe - but what really attracted me to the book is the way the authors introduce it in their Guardian piece. I quote:
"Shakespeare is too often identified with a misty-eyed, middlebrow, nostalgic and undemanding picture of England and Englishness. Indeed, the Shakespeare industry is dependent on the marketing of this image - both in the production of goods for domestic consumption (whether fridge magnets or outdoor summer stagings) and for export (the "Global Hamlet" in 102 countries). But there is a more radical and subversive version of Shakespeare, which is most clearly evident in his greatest and best-known play: Hamlet."
So far, so good (although there is a healthy argument to be had as to which of Will's plays is the most subversive). What really delights me is that Critchley and Webster are making much the same point as I've made in Who Killed William Shakespeare? and, indeed, repeatedly on this blog.
Basically, we have been sold a crock of sh*te about William Shakespeare. Don't get me wrong: he wrote the plays and the poems (it's a ridiculous canard that somebody else must have done all that hard work). But he wasn't what the Stratford clique and the academic establishment want us all to think he was.
To quote Critchley and Webster again: "The banal, biscuit-box Shakespeare needs to be broken up and his work made dangerous again."
YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!!!
But doing so is not that easy. Too many cultural commentators have too much invested in the smug, silly, Merrie Englande portrait of Will - the country lad, ever so 'umble, who made it big in London and then went back home and disappeared. Critchley and Webster explain that finding a publisher in the US for their Hamlet Doctrine wasn't difficult. But in the UK? Well, now. One rejection letter from a British publisher made the situation plain. Their book was "essentially unpublishable" because it was a "condemnation of the literary culture of my country".
The authors admit that, "in one sense, he's right: our book is an implicit condemnation of a certain, mainstream, version of English culture."
Well, good on them. That's exactly what we need. And it's exactly what I hope I've done with my own Shakespeare opus.
The question, however, remains: why do serious, thoughtful authors who do a little more digging into Shakespeare than the average face such blanket obstructionism from the mainstream - publishers, critics, the cronies of academia? Why?
The answer is this: the phoney, revisionist, tourist-friendly Shakespeare of popular renown belongs to a silly and ignorant vision of England's past. It is, to put it bluntly, the Conservative Party version of English history. It's not based on any sort of fact (except in the very broadest sense of the word) but on massive splashes of prejudice and flag-waving nationalism.
Shakespeare DID NOT write for these people. He saw the world around him as it was, and he channelled his disgust and his fury into his works.
And so, in order to prop up the self-satisfied and nonsensical "Rule, Britannia!" narrative of English history, Shakespeare has to be (a) neutralised, politically-speaking, and (b) completely misconstrued. That's why we have such a make-believe Shakespeare, these days, and why so many productions of his plays are so utterly meaningless and unintelligible. The cultural elite don't want anybody to hear what Shakespeare was saying. In fact, it's highly improbable that they understand him themselves, because their cultural prejudices won't allow them to.
That said, their historical revisionism creates an extremely flimsy and fragile view of the past. It cannot withstand the slightest scrutiny. This is why individuals such as the publisher quoted above respond with such sensitivity, such disdain, such horror to a proper study of Shakespeare. They have, essentially, wrapped themselves in a Union flag and willingly collaborated in rewriting the past, to make England seem like the eternal bastion of decency. Shakespeare, of course, has a place in that - but only as a sort of patron saint of conservative England. When you explain that he was no such thing, the right-wing revisionists shriek and holler - because you've threatened them with a bit of reality, and you're taking "their" Shakespeare from them.
It's as if the academics are on crutches - one crutch being a foolishly simplistic, "patriotic" view of English history; the other being Shakespeare as the perfect propagandist for such a stupid notion of our troubled past - and you've just come along and kicked one or other of their crutches away. You've made Shakespeare real again! How dare you!! When they've spent so much time and energy turning him into a bookmark, a T-shirt, and the least radical writer that ever lived!
So I applaud Critchley and Webster for attacking the cosy Shakespeare industry, and I welcome them as allies. Because, unless we can rescue the genuine Shakespeare from the cold, dead hands of the Middle Englanders, we will never hear his words and share his pain.
And that would be a far greater loss to us all than the shattering of an idiotic and irrelevant Shakespeare image, as sold to us by the guardians of "mainstream" culture.
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