Postscript regarding books, theatre etc.

In terms of what I am reading, I am getting stuck into a novel called Byzantium Endures, a historical novel set in St. Petersburg during the Russian revolution. The main character is highly flawed. A Jew-hating, woman-beating, self-obsessed cocaine addict who, utterly unconcerned when his mother (back home in Kiev) is in her final illness, prefers to stay in Odessa with a whore he is attracted to. Despite this, we can still empathis to some degree with him. Michael Moorcock has made a disgustingly flawed protagonist his trademark in most of his novels.

I'm also reading "And Is It True?", looking at the poetry written by Christians and non-Christians during the trench warfare of the First World War. The savage passion and emotionalism of some of those who called themselves atheists is contrasted with the fatalism and even despair of some of those who called themselves Christians. It is little wonder to me that the mindless carnage of the war changed the the outlook of Western society for ever.

I've seen four shows at the Citizens Theatre recently. The first was "Romeo and Juliet": a production by Reid-Kerr college which butchered the play beyond anything I would have believed was possible. It comes to a sad situation when I (who am a mediocre student actor) felt I could have taken any of these parts and done it better. (Even Juliet!)
The second was "Pillowman", one of the best shows I have ever seen, performed by the students of Langside college. The grotesque brutality and the raw emotion was intertwined with a particularly dark sense of humour, which meant that the audience could have a lump in their throat and then laugh all in the same moment. But the real genius of the piece was in taking our archetypes (the totalitarian government, the anarchic poet, the mentally challenged brother, the abusive parents) and turn them all on their head. You think you are watching one show and then you realise you are watching something entirely different.
The third was "Wuthering Heights" a Bollywood musical version. I realise my appreciation of Bollywood tastes is not sufficient to pass judgement, but it seemed to me to be cliche after cliche, with overblown sentimental songs and hackneyed dialogue.
The fourth was "Singin' I'm no' a Billy, he's a Tim", which was one of the funniest things I have seen. I am not a football fan, and my knowledge of the issues of bigotry in that area is very limited. But I found myself completely drawn into this world in which a Rangers and a Celtic fan are locked up in the same cell on the night of the big match. At times a little cheesy (they end up having swapped strips, put the world to rights, smoked a joint and singing a song about how they now see things differently) but especially at the beginning the dialogue is as sharp as I have heard anywhere.