Hypocrytical sinkhole

I am not particularly well informed about American politics. I do not live there and the Icelandic politics suffice to soothe my appetite for such issues. But I know enough to say that as someone that has no vested interest in US policies I do like the Obamas. I like the way he touches people‘s shoulders when shaking hands as it implies that he is a nice guy and his wife Michelle seems like a very good and strong person. But now I have a beef with him.

Maybe it would be good form to issue a brief warning. Not many readers will applaud this post. The topic has few pleasant sides. But in life one cannot constantly steer clear of uncomfortable issues. So here goes:

Recently the US State Department sponsored a global conference “Our Ocean” to discuss and raise awareness on issues related to the ocean and marine conservation. Iceland was asked by Obama to stay away as we were supposedly not welcome. This is a bit odd as Iceland is one of the few countries in the world that still maintains a healthy and thriving fishing industry due to the long serving regulating of fishing. Because of this, Iceland with its 320 thousand inhabitants is the 12^th largest fishing nation in the world. We could have provided very valuable input regarding boosting fish stocks for coastal countries that continue to see the fish in their waters deplete. At the very least we could have presented a good case for the value of sustainable fishing. But no. We were a country non-grata. So what gives?

Whaling.

In 1986 the International Whaling Commission (IWC) that regulates whaling, placed a ban on commercial whaling due to threat of whale extinction. The IWC does however allow Japan, Norway and Iceland to continue whaling. Japan for research purposes (the ban reportedly urges that research meat be sold for consumption), Norway because they objected to the ban and Iceland because of a reservation we had passed by the IWC in 2002.

Iceland’s locally regulated annual quota amounts to 150 fin whales and 150 minke whales.

Neither of the whale species Iceland hunts are in danger of extinction. The population of the North Atlantic fin whale subspecies in the waters Iceland hunts has been estimated to number 19 000 animals. The quota of 150 animals per year is chosen to ensure that this number does not decrease due to the hunt. The global fin whale population is around 120 000 animals. The global minke whale population is around 800 000 animals.

Everyone that knows anything about whales knows that the IWC ban on commercial whaling is  no longer needed to protect whales from the threat of extinction. Sustainable whaling can now be conducted. The ban was never meant to be permanent. It was meant to compensate for past overhunting and allow the stocks to rise. Which they have.

Anyway. Despite the fact that Japan and Norway hunt more whales than Iceland, Japan and Norway were not sent the same letter from Obama that Iceland received. They were allowed to participate in the conference for some reason. Obama did not decide to take “the moral high ground” as he supposedly told our government that he felt obliged to do in regards to us. Norway and Japan received no threatening message about cutting off diplomatic relations or looming economic sanctions – as we did. Not very brave to pick on the smallest of the bunch or very consequent either. To me this moral high ground seems more akin to a hypocritical sinkhole.

Few people know that in addition to the three countries already mentioned, other countries also hunt whale, albeit in a somewhat lesser degree. Usually this is done under an aboriginal allowance and such hunting occurs for example in the USA. There aboriginal Alaskans are allowed to hunt 75 bow head whales a year. The bowhead population is estimated to be about 25 000 worldwide – less than a quarter of the fin whale population and about 3% of the minke whale population. The Obama administration does not worry about extinction off Alaska.

I do not get it. What is the difference and why is this somehow considered more acceptable? Iceland has hunted whale traditionally for centuries, so has Japan and Norway. Why does Obama allow the Alaskan hunt if whaling is such a hot topic for him? It occurs in his own back yard.  From a population of much fewer whales.

Did someone mention moral high ground?      

But opposition to whaling is not only due to people being worried about the animals becoming extinct. There is the notion that they are smart and they look magnificent. But does that make them any more holy than for example a chicken? If there is no extinction threat then one would think that whales should be on par with other animals that we eat. Can we kill chickens without blinking an eye because of their lack of intellect and rather homely appearance?  Can this then be applied to human life as well? Does someone who looks bad and is perhaps mentally challenged have less of a right to life? Will you get a reduced sentence for if you kill that person?

Don‘t get me wrong. I am not some hunting enthusiast, I don’t even fish. I am actually very much an animal lover although that might seem strange to some. To me it is not about the way an animal dies – it is about how it lives. I would rather eat a whale (that is not about to die out as a species) that actually had a life as opposed to a horrifically treated farm animal that had no life but possibly a decent death. I emphasise possibly.

Iceland does not have an army. We do not send our young out into the world with bombs and weapons to kill or be killed. We do not have the death sentence and administer poison into the veins of criminals in some mangled way – a few probably unduly convicted. We do not put children in jail. We are not one of the world’s biggest marine polluters. We do not have a food industry that turns people into vegetarians if they look into the practices. We hunt and fish responsibly. We do not point the finger at others regarding issues where we are no better. We do not threaten friendly nations.

Not that anyone would get all worried about a threat from our direction.  

 Yrsa - Wednesday

Gens de Voyage the Gypsies

Recently in the French news, which spread to the international news, was a graphic photo of a 15 year old Roma boy beaten up, stuffed in a shopping cart and left for dead on the outskirts of Paris. A neighbor who found him took photos to document his condition brought him to the hospital. It turns out that a gang of 20 young people wearing ski masks beat this Roma boy up. The pictures are horrific. People were asking how could this happen. Francois Hollande got on the news deploring the incident. But no one was asking why.  The racism against Gypsies or Roma in France and throughout  Europe is quiet and not talked about. It’s a given.

Of course it depends on who you talk to and it’s a complicated issue. For several years the French police have worked with the Romanian government to bring in Romanian police. These police are taught French and deputized to work in Paris.
But these are the Eastern European Gypsies, the Roma who are from Albania, former Yugoslavia, Romania who after the EU opened the borders pass freely
through Europe. Freely is a loose term.
It turns out this boy who is still in a coma, is 17 not 15, he's recently arrived from Romania to be with his step-family and was known to have psychiatric problems.

Gypsies are known by different names in different countries - Scinti in Germany, Gitane in Spain, Gitano in Italy and the French born are called Manouches and Gens de Voyage. By French born I mean those born in France who have citizenship and may have lived there for years, in semi-nomadic lifestyles or more sedentary conditions, for generations. Those are the ones who feature in my next book.
What do you think of when you hear Gypsy or Roma in Europe?
Chicken thieves, Pickpockets in the Metro, musicians, workers at the carnivals, circus, horse traders, exotic dancers, caners at the market?
But it’s a complicated issue
Cara - Tuesday

STRANGE GODS launches tomorrow!

I am thrilled to post my annual shot at SSP.

Here is the jacket copy:

"In early 20th century British East Africa, there are rules for the British and rules for the Africans. Vera McIntosh, the daughter of Scottish missionaries, doesn't feel she belongs to either group; having grown up in Africa, she is not interested in being the well-bred Scottish woman her mother would like her to be. More than anything she dreams of seeing again the handsome police officer she's danced with. But more grisly circumstances bring Justin Tolliver to her family's home.

The body of Vera's uncle, Dr. Josiah Pennyman, is found with a tribesman’s spear in his back. Tolliver, an idealistic Assistant District Superintendent of Police, is assigned to the case. He first focuses on Gichinga Mbura, a Kikuyu medicine man who has been known to hatefully condemn Pennyman because Pennyman’s cures are increasingly preferred over his. But the spear belonged to the Maasai tribe, not Kikuyu, and it's doubtful Mbura would have used it to kill his enemy. Tolliver's superior wants him to arrest the medicine man and be done with it, but Tolliver pleads that he have the chance to prove the man's guilt. With the help of Kwai Libazo, a tribal lieutenant, Tolliver discovers that others had reasons to hate Pennyman as well, and the list of suspects grows.

This is a romantic and engaging mystery that captures the beauty and the danger of the African wild and the complexities of imposing a culture on a foreign land.

Reviews: 

"Alfieri aims for the audience who loved Out of Africa, with heartbreaking romance married to a complex mystery."

—Kirkus

“Alfieri’s novel brings Africa to Technicolor life. If you don’t have the urge to re-watch Out of Africa with Robert Redford and Meryl Streep after reading Strange Gods, your sense of discovery needs to be resuscitated.” 

– Kings River Life Magazine

        

“The author portrays well the struggle someone raised in Kenya faces when finding where they fit in the world.”

 – Old Africa Magazine

And the comment I am proudest of:

"A beautiful and sensitive story set in colonial Africa—a moving tale of intrigue and love. Every page a pleasure."

—Michael Stanley, Barry Award­-winning author of Deadly Harvest

Facing Up To It

Zoë Sharp

This week sees me returning to a topic I’ve raised before in blogs—writing groups.

Are you a member, or have you ever been a member, of one? What did you feel you got out of it? If you stopped going, why?

When I first moved up to the Lakes I looked for a local writing group and one was just forming. Great, I thought, but when I rang to make further enquiries alarm bells sounded from the fact the organiser spent the entire phone call telling me about her own writing background and didn’t ask a single question about what I might be working on. Still, I went to the first meeting and realised that she wanted to use it as a platform for her own ideas on teaching us to write, rather than simply letting us bring our own work for feedback from the rest of the group. I know a certain amount of structure is good—a topic for next time, if people are stuck for what to write about—but it wasn’t what I was looking for, and I regret that I didn’t last long there.

The trouble is, at the moment I’m leading a somewhat peripatetic lifestyle and have never lived in a big city where there are lots of writing groups to choose from. And I’ve never been a member of one where anyone else was writing crime. So, I’m starting to wonder about joining an on-line group.

But I don’t know how that works.

The big problem is the written word. If someone says, to your face, “That piece of dialogue really doesn’t work for me. It’s clunky. It sounds like the writer needing to get information across to the reader, rather than two people talking.” Then you pick up on far more than the words. Body language, tone, emphasis, facial expression, all help to soften down the criticism into something you can process and accept. Dashed off in an email, it sounds like a damning condemnation.

Somebody once said there are six ways people can read a letter. Some people write things that are supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, and find themselves being taken much too seriously and causing great upset or offence. I know adding smiley faces to emails is supposed to be a bit naff, but I do it all the time now to show I’m only making a jokey comment that is not supposed to be taken literally. Having had someone ring up and yell at me down the phone for a throwaway remark I once put in an email, I’m now very careful about these things. It doesn’t always work, of course, and I know I often put my foot in it.

So, that in itself makes me wary of joining an on-line writing group. The whole purpose of on-line is that you don’t meet, so how do I know if the general personality of the people whose opinions I’m soliciting will fit in with my own ideas? You make decisions about people within minutes of meeting them, but how long does it take for those same opinions to form when all you have are emails or comments? Do people reveal themselves more fully in their writing than face-to-face, or do they hide behind the words?

And quite often I used to take along to my writing group the bits I wasn’t sure about. If you write something that you instinctively know is good, you’re happy with it. It’s the bits you have sneaky doubts about where you want a second—or even third or fourth—opinion. Do I really want to release unfinished, possibly dodgy bits of work onto the Internet? Who knows where it might end up, and what damage it might do?

Paranoid? Me?

So, I’m looking for advice and information, people. Can you recommend a good on-line crime/thriller writing group? If you’ve had any bad experiences of on-line or face-to-face writing groups, care to share? And just how do the damn things work, exactly?

This week’s Word of the Week is postiche, an adjective meaning superfluously and inappropriately added to a finished work; counterfeit or false. Also a noun meaning an inappropriate hairpiece or wig.

Greece As A Muse.

This post comes to you courtesy of the Chicago-based National Hellenic Museum, for it is the essay I prepared for NHM’s Annual Gala Commemorative Magazine, “Journey to the Greek Islands”—a glitzy first-rate affair, and that’s just the magazine!  The Gala took place May 31^st as the central fundraising event for America’s only national institution dedicated to preserving, commemorating, and celebrating the enduring contributions of generations of Greek-Americans to the very fabric of national life.  Thank you, NHM, for this distinct honor and, thank you, Renee Pappas, for both the opportunity of contributing to your first rate publication and giving me something to post this week so that I might play uninterrupted with my visiting grandchildren (their parents in tow) during their own journey to the Greek islands.

The Muse is always with them; they live in a place of complete happiness in perpetual sunshine.  Those words are derived from the works of two legendary Greek poets separated by 2500 years: Pindaros, the lyric master of Greece’s Classic Golden Age, and George Seferis, a 20^th Century, Nobel Prize winning giant.

George Seferis (1900-1971)

 

Pindar (522-443 BCE)

Each was speaking of Hyperborea, a mythical land somewhere beyond the north wind.  Sort of like Peter Pan’s Never Never Land, but different.

It’s not surprising that they wrote of such a place, for creative types are always searching for their Muse, and—except among the clinically depressed—for happiness and sunshine.  The artistic process is largely a solitary quest, lived out among the thoughts, anxieties, and instincts of the mind, so anything that helps bring about a visit from the Muse is as welcome as a pardon to the imprisoned.  

For writers, artists, and musicians in search of inspiration who don’t like cooling their heels waiting for some fickle muse to show up, or simply prefer finding one on their own, the trick is in knowing where to look.  To me the obvious suggestion is the same today as it was in Pindaros’ time back in 500 B.C.E., “Seek a place of sunshine and happiness and ye shall find your Muse.” 

Translation:  Go to Greece—even if it’s not as sunny and happy a place as it was a couple of millennia ago.

That’s not novel thinking on my part. It’s been that way practically forever.  Foreigners have always come to Greece to find their destiny.  Even Herodotus, “The Father of History,” who wrote Western literature’s seminal work on much of what our world knows of Ancient Greece and its times, was not born in Greece, but in the rival Persian Empire. He did not migrate to Greece until his late thirties where he composed most of The Histories. In what some might say was a nod of appreciation to what inspired Herodotus to create his opus, The Histories are divided into nine volumes, one named after each Muse.

For many, the first person that comes to mind when asked to name one among all the foreign cultural icons drawn to Greece to find their Muse is Lord Byron, the notorious romantic poet who gave his life to Greece’s War of Independence.  

 

Lord Byron

Less flamboyant, but no less inspired by Greece was Byron’s friend and fellow Romanticist, Percy Bysshe Shelley, who wrote, “We are all Greeks,” “Our laws, our literature, our religion, our arts have their roots in Greece.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Those roots transplanted well. There is not a place on earth unaffected by the Muse that is Greece.  W.H. Auden, another legendary English-born poet perhaps put it best, “Had Greek Civilization never existed…we would never have become fully conscious.”

W.H. Auden

But for most mortals it is not the study of Greek history that brings fire to the creative experience; for that sort of magic to happen you must experience Greece first-hand.

I love sitting on a beach in the early morning taking in the smell of wild rosemary and thyme scented sea breezes, watching sunlight dance upon the water casting the sea in hues of silver, rose, and gold, popping distant islands into sight, and bouncing shades of blue across the sky to fire up a splash of green along a light-brown hillside, a shot of pink amid oleander green, a beige lizard against a gray wall, or a cresting wave of white against a deep blue sea.

But my favorite time of day is late afternoon, as light ranges across fields of ochre, gray, and black––framed in the stones and shadows of ancient walls lumbering up onto hillsides or sliding down toward the sea.  Those moments never fail to make me wonder how akin my own thoughts might be to those of ancients who looked out upon those same hills, seas, and sunsets so many thousands of years before.

How can one not find inspiration in such moments? And many have. 

Among the world’s literary masters, John Fowles wrote and set The Magus on Spetses; Lawrence Durrell’s life on Corfu, Rhodes, and Cyprus profoundly influenced all of his writing; Henry Miller, during a visit to his friend Durrell on Corfu, wrote “The light of Greece opened my eyes, penetrated my pores, expanded my whole being,” and penned what he considered his finest book, The Colossus of Maroussi; Louis De Bernieres’ Captain Corelli’s Mandolin brought Cephalonia to life for much of the world; Mark Twain, in The Innocents Abroad, the best selling travel book of all time, described 1867 Greece in far less than complimentary terms, but with observations of undoubted interest to students of Greece today (Chapters 32 and 33); and Patrick Leigh Fermor’s work showed his deep love and appreciation for all things Greek from before his days of service as a war hero on Crete through his final ones in Kardamyli close by his beloved Mani.  

Musicians of every genre have found their Muse in Greece.  Greek gods, heroes, and legends inspired operatic classics by the likes of Mozart, Offenbach, Handel, Gluck, Verdi, Rossini, and Gounod.  Others found musical inspiration though experiencing the Greek life:  Classic violinist and conductor Yehudi Menuhin had his love affair with Mykonos (one which I share), Joni Mitchell wrote and sang songs of her time spent on Crete, Leonard Cohen found his home on Hydra influencing his work, as did Rhodes and Pylion home owners Rick Wright and Roger Waters of Pink Floyd.

And when it comes to artists influenced by Greece, the list is endless.  One from centuries back who immediately comes to mind, even though he never travelled to Greece, is Eugene Delecroix for the sheer power of his depiction in The Massacre at Chios of the horror wrought upon that island during the War of Independence. In the 1950s and 1960s, photographer Henri Cartier Bresson captured the essence of Greece in black and white photos that give him claim to rival Apollo for the title god of light. But of all the modern lovers of Greece, no artist has charmed his Greek Muse more than American artist Thomas McKnight.  His instantly recognizable work introduced generations of non-Greeks to the land he’s called his spiritual home for more than forty years.  Today, more artists (including actors) are calling Greece home for at least part of each year, notably American artist Brice Marden on Hydra, and Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson of Antiparos.

Thomas McKnight

For those of you who don’t think “sunshine and happiness” are a sufficient explanation for why so many seek their Muse in Greece, I can offer you this observation by the distinguished psychologist James Hillman, “We return to Greece in order to rediscover the archetypes of our mind and of our culture.”  But instinctively I think the answer lay closer to the thinking of baseball philosopher Yogi Berra, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

After all, that’s just about how author Truman Capote ended up spending the summer of 1958 on the island of Paros. He was soul searching.  He’d finished writing Breakfast at Tiffany’s earlier that year and was a year away from beginning work on In Cold Blood, and as his time on Paros drew to a close he wrote this line in a letter to his New York publisher, Bennett Cerf, “I’m leaving here in four days—sad, it has been a wonderful working-place.”

Truman Capote

Yes, the answer could be as simple as that.  Greece is just a wonderful place to create. 

Personally, I’d like to think there’s something deeper of a draw to this birthplace of the gods where the Iliad and the Odyssey still serve as travel guides for some. It’s not anything I can put my finger on, but I sense it’s out there, waiting for the right moment and the right person. Just look to the Book of Revelation. Whether you believe it’s a vision from on high or the inspiration of a man, there’s no denying its impact on the world for nearly two thousand years.

And it all began with one man sitting in a tiny cave on the island of Patmos, under a bright blue sky, on a hillside staring out across green fields and olive trees toward a sapphire sea laced with muted brown-green islands.

View from the Cave of Revelation, Patmos

I guess what I’m getting at is that what draws so many creative types to Greece is likely a question only God can answer definitively. All I know is that Greece works just fine as my Muse, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

Yiasas.

Jeff—Saturday