Share this page on

gold Status gold (Level 9/10)



Trusted by 854 members
See member statistics

"The colour of truth is grey." (Andre Gide)

Reviews written

since 29/08/2002


My Resolutions 01/01/2017

Resolutely irresolute

My Resolutions Through much-rubbed eyes and much-yawned yawns I’m conscious that a new day dawns; Just give my brain a chance to clear And I’ll remember it’s New Year. If memory fails to deceive We welcomed it on yester eve And drank enough to stay awake For Auld Lang Syne’s and custom’s sake Till midnight’s chimes marked the transition Of dates, thus granting us permission To slink away and seek our beds, A respite for post-festive heads. Now, after an indulgent night Some people tend to feel contrite, But in contrition danger lurks: What often happens in such circs Is that they fall into a trap And let their conscience take the rap. As if they’ve let the wrong one in They swear that they’ll repent of sin, Falsely equating sin with pleasure, Resolving to adopt some measure Like diet, exercise, abstention: A regimen of joy-prevention. Be not entrapped, do not succumb. You’ll either fall, tit over bum, Upended like a novice skater And find yourself a few months later With all your solemn vows de-railed, In which case you will feel you’ve failed; Or worse, still on the straight and narrow, Leaping up at fart of sparrow To jog, then press-ups for your pecs, A cold bath, next your health-food breks, And after that a whole day sober, As bleak as northern Manitoba. Such masochism I find scary; Long years have taught me to be wary And doubt all those who say we should Aspire to a greater good, Devote ourselves to self-improvement Or sign up for some worthy ...

Advent calendars: do they still have a place in your home? 22/12/2016

Putting up and counting down

Advent calendars: do they still have a place in your home? “It’s my turn and I’m going to put up the plane.” “No it isn’t. You put up the butterfly yesterday. It’s my turn and I’m going to put up the fish.” “No, that was before. You put up the bouncing ball yesterday, so it’s my turn now…” Ah, the joys of family harmony in the season of goodwill. * We were given our Advent Calendar by one of my wife’s Canadian cousins some thirty-five or more years ago, and yes, it still has a place in our home. Our Advent Calendar would not, I think, be regarded as much out of the ordinary these days, but at the time it seemed to us a novelty, and a very welcome one. In Britain, Advent Calendars were in those days less commonplace and less elaborate than they have subsequently become. Where they existed at all they were typically of the old-fashioned religious kind, fabricated from double-thickness card with windows cut into the upper layer, which opened to reveal a biblical homily or illustration printed on the layer beneath. Graphic motifs tended to rely on stylised cherubs, church bells and gilt curlicues. Such advent calendars were perhaps rare because they were not to everyone’s taste; I can say this with a fair amount of confidence since they were not to mine, nor to that of many of my contemporaries. They were the sort of thing that seemed to appeal only to ancient grandparents. By contrast, the modern types that dish out daily treats were, I regret to say, almost unknown. We could have used a few of those in my childhood, when ...

The Hollow Man - John Dickson Carr 14/11/2016

No smoke without mirrors

The Hollow Man - John Dickson Carr One evening in his favourite pub in pre-war Bloomsbury Professor Charles Grimaud, a retired academic of continental origins, is holding forth to a coterie of friends and admirers when the gathering is interrupted by a gaunt wild-eyed stranger. This intruder subjects Grimaud to cryptic threats, not only on his own behalf but that of his allegedly even more dangerous brother, before quickly quitting the pub, leaving only a visiting card giving his name as Pierre Fley, his profession as Illusionist, and an address nearby. Grimaud resists all advice to involve the police, but a few days later a visitor answering Fley’s description calls at his home. The visitor is shown into his study, in the doorway of which Grimaud is seen to meet him, and soon afterwards the sound of a shot is heard. The door, which has been under observation by Grimaud’s secretary throughout, is found to be locked from within. By the time entry has been gained, Grimaud is dying from a bullet wound and the visitor has vanished. But how and where to? The only window looks out high above a courtyard covered in untrodden snow. Above, the snow on the roof is equally undisturbed. The chimney flue is too narrow for escape, and there are no secret doorways, passages or hidey-holes. Alerted to Grimaud’s shooting, the police hasten to Fley’s address, only to find he too has been shot and killed outside his lodgings, in equally mystifying circumstances. Powder stains on his coat show that the wound was inflicted from ...

My 400th Review 08/11/2016

Taking stock

My 400th Review So it seems I’ve at last reached 400 (That’s reviews, in case anyone wondered) Some in prose, some in verse – I’m not sure which are worse, But at least they’re all mine, nothing plundered. Long retired from gainful employment, I find writing affords much enjoyment, Lightens ponderous hours With illusory powers Over words as one plans their deployment. Here on Ciao I’ve found somewhere to post ‘em A site more than willing to host’em A congenial portal Where they might raise a chortle From raters who’ll toast ‘em or roast ‘em. Being subject to cheering and booing Helps to keep us on track when reviewing; So a good crop of Es Serves not only to please But suggests that one knows what one’s doing. The site’s changed in the years that I’ve been here Some old stalwarts are no longer seen here Whilst we welcome the newer Their numbers are fewer - Let’s just hope they’re enjoying the scene here. If they stay and keep writing and rating, Judging products or current debating, Then the site will survive And perhaps even thrive. That’s a prospect I find quite elating. I’ve been here so long; if I’ve blundered In scribbling away to 400, It’s too late to regret it. Stop now? No, forget it. I’ll aim to push on to 500. © torr 2016 ...

Bonfire Night - Splendid celebration or public nuisance? 01/11/2016

All right on the night

Bonfire Night - Splendid celebration or public nuisance? A shame in a way that Bonfire Night is the latest Current Issue topic here on Ciao, since I already expressed my views a few years ago with this little rhyme. Poor old Guy Fawkes had rotten luck; At parliamentary blowing-up He averaged a paltry duck. His downfall came from showing up In person to ignite the fuse And thus be caught without excuse, Red-handed when the plot was grassed. A false accomplice blew the gaff And Guy, whose efforts had surpassed All previous plots, found they were naff When faced with Jacobean plod - Ye Olde Antye-Terror Squadde. Thys Swatte Teame thwarted poor Guy's caper. Although his kegs chock-full of powder Were primed and set, the blue touch paper Stayed unlit. His howls were louder Than the hoped-for detonation As he was urged to recantation And afterwards hung, drawn and quartered. His cronies waiting at the inn Were rounded up and likewise slaughtered (For treason can't be seen to win; Or if it wins for any reason, History never calls it treason.) You might say Guy deserved his fate; Papists like him were apt to take Excessive steps to curb debate And burn dissenters at the stake. Although such practices have dwindled Ironically old Guy's still kindled, His effigy on bonfires flamed. Thus he's the man we have to thank: The fiery festival that's named After his abortive prank Now lights up each November 5 To make us glad to be alive. * * * When I was young we made our guy From worn-out rags and paper ...

Zagreb (Croatia) 01/11/2016

Croatian crossroads

Zagreb (Croatia) The first time I saw Zagreb I hardly saw it at all. After a hectic, exhausting drive from London, my wife and I and the friends with whom we were travelling paused just long enough to enjoy an overnight stay before moving on to explore elsewhere in – as it was then - Jugoslavia. Mind you, that was over forty years ago, and the city was still in sombrely socialist mood, seemingly grey and nondescript, under a regime that was benign only by the undemanding standards of the rest of Eastern Europe. We thought of it as Eastern Europe then, more a political than a geographical description, since a glance at the map shows that more of Europe lies to the east of Zagreb’s longitude than to the west. The concept of an intermediate Central Europe was forgotten at the time, buried beneath the Iron Curtain, and this perception applied to Jugoslavia too, despite its stalwart show of independence from the Soviet Union. Now, Zagreb’s Central European attributes are above all what the visitor notices in a lively and self-confident city, exactly a quarter of a century tomorrow into its role as the capital of an independent Croatia. In this, it offers a distinct contrast to the former Jugoslav, now solely Serbian, capital of Belgrade, which still feels Eastern – and dour with it – reminding one that for centuries the two fell on different sides of a boundary far longer-lasting than the Iron Curtain, that between the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires. From A to Z Although dating back ...

Lokrum Island, Dubrovnik 16/10/2016

Harmonious haven

Lokrum Island, Dubrovnik There comes a time when even the most enthusiastic visitor to Dubrovnik needs a break from the hubbub of the old walled city. Magnificent though it is, the crowds that surge around the main sights take their toll on both nerves and patience, even late in September, when I was there. What it must be like in the heat of high summer, I dread to think. Fortunately, there is a peaceful refuge to be found just a quarter-of-an-hour’s boat-ride away. You can see it from Dubrovnik’s harbour, or from atop the city’s walls, all wooded green and seemingly empty and inviting, less than a kilometre out into the azure Adriatic. It is the offshore island of Lokrum, and it is not only peaceful but rather beautiful as well as having historic interest of its own. Past caring Lokrum has for over a thousand years offered sanctuary, though not generally from the travails of tourism. Benedictine monks settled there as a retreat from worldly preoccupations around 913 AD, and by 1023 a monastery had been founded, which later – if legend is to be believed – gave shelter to Richard the Lionheart when he was shipwrecked on his way home from the crusades. A Lazaret – a quarantine hospital for passing travellers – was erected on the island in the 16th century, though little used. Finally, in 1859 a Hapsburg archduke, Maximilian Ferdinand by name, chose Lokrum as the site for his country mansion, based on the remains of the monastery, and laid out some elegant gardens to complement it. In between ... 19/09/2016

You've got to laugh As our world grows more ridiculous – and more sinister – by the day, satirising it becomes increasingly difficult. Sometimes even the most discerning student of human behaviour will be unsure where reality ends and a grotesque parody of it begins. Of current events I’m tempted to say “you couldn’t make it up,” but that scarcely does justice to their awful absurdity. You could make it up, of course you could, but however imaginative your invention it could hardly be more bizarre than the truth, or even that version of the truth passed onto us by the media. Examples abound of this phenomenon, Donald Trump to name but a few. All the more credit, therefore, to those who pit their wits against ever steeper odds to raise a laugh and a scowl by dint of satire. In the UK these include some venerably battle-scarred veterans that still do sterling work – Private Eye*, as always, deserves an especially honourable mention – but it has been heartening to see a new generation of disrespectful 21st century stirrers join the fray since the turn of the millennium. Generation why? Being a new generation, they have a healthy distaste for the world their elders have bequeathed them. And in questioning and poking fun at the mess with which they are confronted they use the media they have grown up with: not fusty print, nor even corporate-controlled broadcast, but the net. And they use a language and format to match: short, simple, easy to view, read and assimilate, even within the limits of ...

The 10 Year aniversary of September 11 11/09/2016

Unhappy Anniversary

The 10 Year aniversary of September 11 In case you're wondering about the topic, today is, of course, the tenth anniversary of September 11, as it is on September 11 every year (and yes, it's also the first and second anniversary, or any other number you care to mention). The most notorious September 11 may have been that of 2001, now 15 years ago, but it is by no means the only ill-fated September 11 known to history. The little verse below commemorates examples from 1297, 1885, 1758, 1814, 1939, 1968, 1922, 1958, 1966, 1969, 1983, 1986, 1541, 1973, 1609, 2001 and 1960 respectively. If anyone knows of other instances, I'd be most interested to learn of them - please leave a comment below. * In general I'm not superstitious I can shrug off the 13th for fun, Even on Fridays, but quite inauspicious I find numbers that end in one-one. Above all there’s September Eleven That’s a terrible day, so I fear, Not only its 1-1 (so hateful to heaven) It leaves 1-1-1 left in the year. On this day at the battle of Stirling The English succumbed to the Scot And we’ve also lost fights with the dervishes (whirling), The French and the Yanks. Poor show, what! A poorer show still, truly dire Not of battles but cock-ups the mother, Or maybe the grandma of all friendly fire: One Brit sub torpedoed another. It’s a day for battles and clashes – On that list we have hardly begun – And also a day for disasters and crashes, (For example, Flight 1-6-1-1). Our mandate of Palestine started; And we ...

Lyonesse - Jack Vance 28/08/2016


Lyonesse - Jack Vance Had he lived to see it, Jack Vance would today have celebrated his 100th birthday. Somehow this seems yet another reason to remember his work – on top of his boundless imagination, captivating style and prodigious output. He wrote at least 60 books, probably more, depending on how you count them. Some may be lost or unattributed to him, since he toyed with numerous pseudonyms, especially for his crime mysteries. Under his own name he wrote mainly Science Fiction and Fantasy, or in the grey area between the two genres (in Vance’s case not such a grey area; all the colours of the rainbow are to be found there, plus others that the rainbow can only envy). Lyonesse is his best-known work of pure Fantasy, but even then the question arises of whether it is one work or three. The first novel published as Lyonesse was later supplemented by two sequels and tends now to be referred to by its sub-title, Suldrun’s Garden, whilst they are called The Green Pearl and Madouc respectively, with the name Lyonesse being used for the trilogy as a whole. Just to be clear: it is solely the original Lyonesse, aka Suldrun's Garden, that I am reviewing here. The trilogy is listed separately on Ciao as The Complete Lyonesse. Sting in the tale From her birth Suldrun was a disappointment to her father Casmir, king of Lyonesse. Not content with being born a girl when he had ordered a male heir, she compounds the felony by a wilful disregard for her education in the accomplishments required of a ...

What do you think of the Olympic Games 2016? 19/08/2016

It doesn't bear thinking about

What do you think of the Olympic Games 2016? What do I think of the Olympic Games? My first thought is that ‘think’ and ‘Olympic Games’ have no business sharing the same sentence. Surely, the whole purpose of the Olympic Games is to relieve us of the need to think. Instead, for two weeks every four years we can switch off our brains and watch wall-to-wall coverage of sports in which most of us are not usually in the least bit interested, accompanied by mind-numbing commentary interspersed with predictably platitudinous interviews with the competitors, whose blinkered dedication to their disciplines seems to have relieved them too of any time or need to think. And all this coverage endlessly repeated until it blanks out any cogitative process in white noise. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a sports fan. I always have been and I’ve always assumed I always would be, my addiction so ingrained as to withstand any corrective treatment, even the aversion shock-therapy of an overdose of exposure to the Olympics on TV. But, I fear, the BBC seems to be coming up with more potent formulations every time, so potent that that my addiction is beginning to quake in its trainers, wondering if it can stay the course. Absence of thought I was prepared for, even prepared to welcome, but this is beginning to feel uncomfortably close to brain-washing. I am somehow reminded of The Clockwork Orange, in which the protagonist is counter-productively ‘cured’ of his love for Beethoven. Mugs’ Games Personally, I blame London 2012, when two ...

Ventimiglia Outdoor Market, Ventimiglia 12/08/2016

Bargain basement on the Italian Riviera

Ventimiglia Outdoor Market, Ventimiglia "Welcome to Italy, where beauty has no limits" proclaims the slogan atop Ventimiglia’s municipal website, bringing a smile to my lips. Many places in Italy are indeed beautiful, but Ventimiglia is not – to my mind at least – among them. This is not to say it is without interest. The old town, Ventimiglia Alta, perched on its hilltop above the Roia River, dates back to Roman times and retains many mediaeval features, but is neglected and even shabby in places. The modern town on the far side of the river shares only the shabbiness, being flat, architecturally uninspiring and fringed by a gravelly shoreline where it faces the Mediterranean. Only the inland backdrop of mountains makes it in any way beautiful, but every town along this coast shares that backdrop and many offer more appealing foregrounds too. The Italian Riviera has always been less pricy and pretentious than its French counterpart, but Ventimiglia takes the contrast to the limit. Booking websites reveal that it is characteristically cheaper to stay in Ventimiglia than in the nearby Italian resorts of San Remo and Bordighera, let alone in Menton across the border into France, and there is a reason for this relative cheapness. Every Friday, though, even in the depths of winter, you will find the front at Ventimiglia heaving with throngs of visitors. What attracts them is not the gritty beach and uninviting sea, but the Outdoor Market that extends a good kilometre along the lungomare (promenade). It is a byword ...

Open Garden Squares, London 04/08/2016

The semi-secret gardens of London

Open Garden Squares, London London is among the world’s most rewarding cities to wander round, as any Londoner – and even some visitors – will tell you. Partly this is because it has so many overlapping but distinctly different districts, each with its own individual character, history and architecture. Partly because it is mostly accessible and safe for pedestrians, but with plenty of public transport on hand when needed. And partly because it is one of the greenest of cities, replete with parks and gardens. Of course, not all the gardens are open to the public, or at least not often. Particularly frustrating to the casual wanderer are the tantalising green spaces at the heart of so many of the elegant squares scattered around the capital, which look ideal for a short sit, respite and reflection – but which turn out to be barred to all but a few privileged residents. I’ve heard them called ‘secret gardens’, but this is a misnomer, since they are visible to anyone from the outside, though not from within. Some, alas, remain ever inaccessible, but with many others there is an exception: the annual weekend in mid-June that is designated London Open Garden Squares Weekend (referred to as OGSW from here on). Fair and square Initiated in 1988, the OGSW scheme will complete its twentieth season next year. During that time it has grown to encompass over 200 gardens across the capital. These are mostly close to the centre – the organisers recognise 13 different clusters, almost all in Inner London – but ...

Brexit: what's next? 06/07/2016

When the Brexit hits the fan

Brexit: what's next? In two months’ time we shall have a new Prime Minister, whose most pressing and difficult task will be to pilot our nation through the uncharted waters of separation from the European Union. As I write it looks unlikely that this Prime Minister will be one of those who were at the forefront of the Brexit campaign. If so, this would in one way be a pity, since they will not therefore have to take responsibility for clearing up the mess they have created. In another, it would be a relief to see none of them rewarded with high office for the irresponsible dishonesty with which they campaigned. Whoever the new PM proves to be, the prospects facing them will be daunting. So far as we have been told, no plan exists for disengagement from the EU, or for mitigating the collateral damage that will result. Even the Leavers had no plan recognisable as such. The “Action Plan” they published was nothing of the kind, but a flimsy farrago of wishful thinking – shorter and less detailed even than this review. Let’s hope that Cameron’s government had a contingency plan for what to do if they lost, and that the new government will inherit it as a basis for developing their own. If not, our future looks as incoherent as it is dire, but let’s hope so anyway. And, while we’re hoping, let’s try to formulate what a good plan might look like for navigating our way through the swamp into which we have been steered. The divorce settlement First on the agenda will be negotiating the terms of our ...

How will you vote in the European Referendum? 21/06/2016

Trade talks

How will you vote in the European Referendum? Glad to see this topic is now listed. How shall I be voting in the referendum? REMAIN, in the hope that nothing like what follows ever actually takes place. “Good morning, Chancellor Merkel. Boris Johnson here, you know, the new British Prime Minister.” “Good morning, Mr Johnson, and congratulations on your appointment.” “Thank you. But do call me Boris. And may I call you Angela? I hope we’re going to be friends.” “For now, I think it is better if we keep to the formalities.” “But you were on first name terms with Cameron, weren’t you?” “Yes, but then David and I were colleagues, working together as heads of government within the European Union. Since you will be taking your country out of the EU, that will not be the case with us.” “Yes, well, that’s rather what I wanted to talk to you about. You know, arrangements between Britain and the EU after we’ve left. Trade and all that sort of thing. I’m hoping we’re going to be able to work out a super-duper deal, best thing for everyone.” “Your hopes, Mr Johnson, are not my concern. And it is not the correct protocol to speak with me about this. You should be addressing the Commission in Brussels.” “Well, yes, I understand all that. But it seemed worth having a quick word with you first, just the two of us. After all, everyone knows that it’s you Germans who really pull the strings around Europe, so if you and I can see eye to eye on what needs to be done, I’ve every confidence you could get the rest to fall into ...
See more reviews Back to top