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Make BAME History Mandatory

During the Black Lives Matter protests last summer, Tobe Amamize was inspired to petition the Scottish government to incorporate Black, Asian and minority ethnic history in school curriculums. Here’s why

Like so many people, when I saw the Black Lives Matter movement resurge in 2020 I was moved but, as time went on, I saw the vicious cycle of history repeat itself: an incident occurs, we protest and then we move on, like nothing happened and the world remains unchanged. The protests were commendable but, when a protest ends, everything goes back to normal and everyone goes back to their lives, forgetting why we were on the streets. We’ve seen this happen countless times and, however veracious our chants, last summer it looked like the same was going to happen. But this time I couldn’t stand back and just let the cycle repeat itself. This is why in June of last year, I started a parliamentary campaign, the Compulsory education of Black, Asian, and minority ethnic history in Scottish schools. It calls on the Scottish Government to embed underrepresented Black, Asian and minority ethnic history into the Scottish educational curriculum; the parts of history that go ignored, consciously and unconsciously. To be honest, I was anxious to see if it would gain any traction, scared that nobody would care and nobody would want to listen. Gladly, I was wrong. Far from it actually, as soon over 3000 people had signed the petition. Over 3000 people cared. Over 3000 people wanted to listen. But the question still looms at the back of my mind: for how long?

This may just be another petition, one of many that circulated in the summer calling for racial equality, but, in the bigger picture, this is a stepping stone: this could be the beginning of the end of racism. Or at least I hope so. History tells us what has gone before us. In the case of Black history, it tells us not only the story of slavery, but of a stolen generation and the consequential underdevelopment of Africa. These have cumulatively led us to the notion that Africa and its peoples are somehow inferior, while the western world remains superior. We can see how history provides us with a context of why racism has been reinforced and upheld for centuries. Fast-forward to the present day, and many people are oblivious to the history of racism or that they’ve been taught a whitewashed version of history. In 2020, a YouGov poll found that 32% of British people believe the British Empire is something to be proud of and it’s hard not to see a direct connection between education and attitude. Abolishing racism becomes an impossible task if you aren’t privy to racism’s context and history. It’s like fighting an invisible opponent who has had hundreds of years to prepare. I think it would be naive of me to hope that the petition goes through parliament the first time around. But this is not just a petition, it is the beginning of the end of living with a whitewashed version of history, and the beginning of the end scares people. This petition asks that we address the racism embedded in our educational institutions, society, and even our children. Why else would politicians be resistant to change? So, we must be prepared for the countless setbacks. I am expecting setbacks, and I am prepared to try again and again and again. Because, by then, I hope that many more people will see the bigger picture and join me in calling for racial equality in Scottish society. When we protested last summer, some politicians called our actions violent, so what is left but our voices and our words. I have found that words can go a long way, but how far do they actually go when those in power refuse to have a conversation? But I believe there will come a point when politicians will have no other choice but to listen – or be left behind. It’s one thing for a small group of close-minded friends to know that you are attempting to keep racism alive and thriving, but another thing to have your whole country know it too. But it’s not all doom and gloom as our recent efforts towards a better, more educated Scotland demonstrate. In 2018, Scotland became one of the first countries to include LGBTI education in schools, a step that is a beacon of hope. It’s a reminder that there is a future for a more inclusive education for generations to come. The optimist in me can’t help but imagine what’s next, what comes after education. My ambitious answer is reparations and making amends for Scotland’s role in the history of slavery so that the world can truly begin to heal. What I do know is that people are still listening and whenever the opportunity arises for us to raise our voices, we must shout, louder than we ever have before – and shouting is what I intend to do.

“Whenever the opportunity arises for us to raise our voices, we must shout, louder than we ever have before – and shouting is what I intend to do”

For more information about the petition, visit parliament.scot/GettingInvolved/Petitions/BAMEHistory

Eat, Drink and Rejoice

Lockdown and restaurants closing has devastated and isolated diaspora communities. We explore how food Instagram accounts have been keeping communities connected, celebrating heritage and fighting racism

Words: Katie Goh Illustration: Eunjoo Lee

It’s 3am and my phone is an inch away from my nose. I’m inspecting an old Instagram post from a year ago. It’s a photo of bean sprouts: stout, fat, translucent bean sprouts, piled on top of each other, mountainous and glistening with soy sauce. I can still taste them – so fresh, so crunchy, so good. The photo was taken in Ipoh, bean sprout capital of the world. When I look at the picture, I remember my aunt who brought me to eat them. I remember the plastic chopsticks I clutched, the cramped restaurant we sat in, the street we walked down afterwards, the way people in Ipoh talk about bean sprouts, the fact that I won’t be able to eat them again for a long, long time. I miss those bean sprouts. I think about them every week. I refresh Instagram and start scrolling. I’ve followed so many food Instagram accounts since the beginning of lockdown that my feed is 50/50 food and selfies. Most of the accounts post photos of Chinese, Malaysian or Singaporean food – food that is familiar to me, that I’ve eaten all my life, or street food that I miss nearly as much as my family. I scroll through photos of dim sum, crispy pork belly, chilli crab and laksa noodles and read the comments:

Dumpling swoon! OH MY GOD YUMMMM omg u made that ?? can u share the recipe? I miss kl so much

A hunger, much deeper than a craving for bean sprouts, gnaws inside me. Lockdown has made us all solitary creatures. Dinner parties, work lunches and the joy of solo eating while surrounded by strangers have all disappeared. Coming together over food, an act that feels quintessentially human, is just one more victim of the pandemic. But while we all miss sharing plates, for immigrant communities in particular, not being able to come together over food has been especially isolating. For diaspora, food is a bridge, crossing oceans and continents to maintain a connection to the motherland. A bite of a scalding soup dumpling, the right brand of chilli sauce or a tiny pomelo can become a portal to the past and a comfort in the bitter, Scottish winter. But food can also be a means of resistance. In predominantly white cities, a Chinatown, a Nigerian restaurant or an Indian buffet can be a refuge, a safe space for intergenerational communities to come together to celebrate their heritage and culture. Steve McQueen’s recent film Mangrove is a striking dramatisation of this role food plays in diaspora communities, focusing on the historic Notting Hill Carribean restaurant that served as a vital hub for Black activists in the late 60s and early 70s. Food has always been political, used to both galvanise and suppress communities. Recently, MasterChef: The Professionals contestant, Philli Armitage-Mattin, was criticised when she, a selfproclaimed ‘Asian specialist’, referred to street food as “dirty”. Armitage-Mattin has since apologised, but it’s this rhetoric, far too common in the West, that normalises racism around food. Every Asian kid growing up somewhere predominately white has experienced this racism. The food in your lunchbox is “smelly”, “weird”, “disgusting” – in retrospect, a deeply ironic racism as it tends to come from a classmate who has the remains of an egg-mayonnaise sandwich and Wotsits stuck in their teeth. Chinese food in the West has always suffered from being othered but as COVID-19 numbers reached epidemic levels at the start of 2020, Chinese restaurants started to be avoided by many in the West, as the media and politicians – including the then-president of the United States – correlated China with COVID. Racist hate attacks on East and Southeast Asian (ESEA) people quadrupled in the UK during the first lockdown, vilified as the faces of the virus. As racism soared, food became a comfort and way of resistance for many ESEA people. After Armitage-Mattin’s “dirty food” comment, people started posting photos of their favourite Asian meals on social media. Stacked bamboo baskets of bouncy baozi, shiny, yellow durian and thick udon were celebrated, unapologetically, in a joyous defiance of racist narratives around food. Tapping through these photos on Instagram is the closest I’ve felt to communal eating during lockdown. Strangers coming together over a shared love of a regional dish, suggesting where to get the best takeaway ramen and how to get the crisp of a scallion pancake just right feels close to the safe space offered by a community’s favourite restaurant. As I eat lunch while scrolling through Instagram, double-tapping the neverending stream of char kway teow and roti canai and bean sprouts, I feel connected, not only to my own family half a world away but also to my community of ESEA people closer to home. I slurp my noodles a little louder.

Mogwai As the Love Continues Rock Action, 19 Feb rrrrr

Listen to: Supposedly, We Were Nightmares, Ritchie Sacramento, Midnight Flit

Blanck Mass In Ferneaux Sacred Bones, 26 Feb rrrrr

Listen to: Phase I Mogwai’s tenth studio album, As the Love Continues, is a continuation of their bombastic instrumental rock, adding enough new experiments to keep things interesting, but staying close enough to their well-hewn sound to ensure a cosy familiarity. First single, Dry Fantasy, is curiously one of the gentlest cuts here, leaning more on the band’s space-rock inclinations, creating a textured, detailed soundscape without ever reaching the furious intensity of their classic songs. Fuck Off Money and Here We, Here We, Here We Go Forever flirt with heavily manipulated vocals, while Ritchie Sacramento offers bittersweet, reflective snippets, lamenting those who’ve ‘disappeared in the sun’. Midnight Flit manages to one-up the cinematic grandeur with contributions from Atticus Ross, while Pat Stains starts off as a palate-cleanser until Colin Stetson shows up with his massive saxophone, letting loose a bit of skronk to upset the delicate balance. Supposedly, We Were Nightmares is a real highlight late in the album, unfurling a glittering krautrock chug to swallow up its radiophonic samples before It’s What I Want To Do, Mum finishes with an eerie, echo-laden jam that could’ve been taken from any of their previous nine releases. [Lewis Wade] slowthai TYRON Method Records, 12 Feb rrrrr

Listen to: focus, push

While there’s no doubt that Benjamin John Power has nailed the intensity here, In Ferneaux offers a more reflective and hymnal take on his signature Blanck Mass sound. The album remains an ambitious undertaking, broken into two gigantic tracks spanning 20 minutes each. The noise remains too – both tracks open with blasts of sound that jolt you awake. Still, there’s a loose and meditative approach here, and a more private significance for its creator. These tracks began as personal field recordings. Their origins centre the project as a journey alongside its creator. The result is a texture-driven project that emphasises dark and light at a cosmic scale. Violent machinery, fire smoke and tribal rituals are all conjured in its heaviest moments, giving way to soft pads, open skies and stargazing. Its best moments are the dreamy, melody-driven passages that burst through, and give new weight to the cacophony around them. The sound of In Ferneaux is impeccable, but it might be more impactful with clearer structure. Ideas disintegrate before developing, awkwardly blending into the next, leading to occasionally aimless moments. At its best, though, it’s a riveting and subtle edition to an already impressive discography. [Skye Butchard] Julien Baker Little Oblivions Matador, 26 Feb rrrrr

Listen to: Heatwave, Crying Wolf, Ringside slowthai’s career so far has been shrouded in controversy, but at last year’s NME Awards ceremony things turned sour when a joke between himself and Katherine Ryan spiralled out of control. In a matter of hours he went from being the people’s hero to the posterboy for misogyny in the music industry. Following ‘the incident’, slowthai – real name Tyron Frampton – returned to his hometown of Northampton, gave up drinking, and made his second album, TYRON, from the basement of his mum’s house. TYRON is an expectedly more introspective body of work than his critically-acclaimed debut, Nothing Great About Britain. The album is split into two halves, representing the two sides to slowthai. On the album’s first half the track titles are stylised in all caps, while in the second half they’re all lower case, and there’s a distinct shift between the two sides. The symbolism is glaringly obvious, but it emphasises the extremes of slowthai’s personality.

TYRON’s second half is undoubtedly more interesting, demonstrating a maturity to his lyrical ability. While it does feel like a forced attempt to put things right, on TYRON slowthai is allowed the time for self-reflection that cancel culture often denies. [Nadia Younes]

“Why am I like this?” Those in the habit of reverting to their worst traits at their lowest moments will recognise this question of introspection. Julien Baker asks this across her third album Little Oblivions, a record of often intense, sometimes perilously dark, self-reflection. That’s not new for Baker. Here she’s even more vivid and articulate in her evocation of the traumas of mental illness, addiction and abuse. But this time Baker has the support of a full band sound and an expansiveness that she has so far held back in her solo material. The sonic adventurousness fits, especially as more bombastic compositions match indulgent imagery like on Heatwave: ‘I’ll wrap Orion’s belt around my neck and kick the chair out’, and her most straightforward pop songs carry the lyrical immediacy that comes from lines like ‘Blacked out on a weekday… / Knocked out on a weekend’ (Hardline). The textures and styles may be different, but Baker’s voice and words remain the star. In contrast with Baker’s past records, Little Oblivions is messy and loud, and isn’t preoccupied with the end point of the redemptive road to recovery, but with the ragged journey along it. [Tony Inglis]

Music Now

We make an attempt at unpacking the overstuffed musical suitcase that is February’s new Scottish releases, featuring Randolph’s Leap, Lizzie Reid and more

Words: Tallah Brash

For a short month, February is really packing in the releases, feeling akin to trying to fit a month’s worth of clothing into a suitcase when you’re only going away for a long weekend (if you can remember that sort of thing, of course, idk). We’re delighted, then, to be reintroducing our long-overdue album reviews this month, so you’ll find reviews for the new Mogwai and Blanck Mass records if you turn back a page, and online you can read our thoughts on Django Django’s latest effort, Glowing in the Dark. With the rest of this page we’ll do our absolute best to pack as much in the suitcase as possible, starting with Lizzie Reid. We’ve mentioned Reid in these pages a fair bit since hearing Seamless last October, a hearton-sleeve account of a past relationship. Followup single Always Lovely was similarly emotive, with lyrics that cut deep, perfectly balanced with Reid’s sparse, considered guitar work. Her debut EP Cubicle is finally out this month (10 Feb) and is a real thing of beauty, feeling both complex and effortless in equal measure. We cannot recommend it enough. In similar territory, Kim Grant, formerly of Tongue Trap, has gone solo, now performing under the moniker Raveloe (pronounced Rave-low) and is releasing her debut EP, Notes and Dreams, this month (12 Feb) via Glasgow indie label Olive Grove Records. Lead single Abalone, which we premiered at the end of last month, is moody and beautifully cinematic, carried by Grant’s stunning vocal, and the rest of the EP pleasingly follows suit. Following his debut release – No Life – as cyber-cowboy A.R. Pinewood last year, the ever prolific singer-songwriter Adam Ross returns this month in his more human form as eight-piece Randolph’s Leap release Spirit Level (26 Feb) via London DIY label Fika Recordings. Even though the album’s titular track references an unsettled spell when writing the album, this latest effort from Randolph’s Leap is likely to help your spirits level up as across its ten tracks it rarely lets up in energy, and is peppered throughout with Ross’s signature lyrical wit with lines like: ‘I like Big Momma’s House 2, but I prefer the novel.’ Catching us off guard this month, is the transportative early bird // night owl (19 Feb) from Edinburgh folk duo Dowally. There’s just something so comfortingly familiar about this record, making us nostalgic for folk festivals we went to in Auchtermuchty as a child. Dark Clouds takes us to a hillside bothy in the Scottish Highlands, while the second half of Geese From the East has us longing for a night out at a bruise-inducing ceilidh, and Turkish Reverie makes us pine for island hopping on the west coast of Scotland. On the same day, Scottish charity Vox Liminis release their latest collaborative Distant Voices EP which sees songwriters paired with people

Photo: Jason Riddell Raveloe Photo: Greg Ryan Randolph's Leap who have experienced different facets of the criminal justice system. Looking At Colours Again is instantly engaging as Donna Maciocia sings on opening track Rewind: ‘If I could put the cassette back in the machine / Rewind, record over, rewrite the scenes / Undo the stupid mistakes I made’. It’s an early highlight in a brilliant EP filled with moments of true honesty and vulnerability, not to mention excellent musical arrangements, which is to be expected as it also features contributions from Admiral Fallow’s Louis Abbott, Fiskur’s Ross Clark, Jo Mango and Martha Ffion. Elsewhere, Glasgow hip-hop producer Steg G releases Live Today (25 Feb), featuring collaborations with Solareye, Empress, CCTV and Freestyle Master. The following day, Nightshift, featuring members of Robert Sotelo and Spinning Coin, release Zöe, their superbly hypnotic new record.

January releases you may have missed... Towards the end of January, artist, designer and musician Tommy Perman very quietly released Positive Interactions, a 20-track album inspired by and featuring happy sounds recorded and sent to him by friends all over the world, which includes everything from birdsong and dishwasher bleeps to pet sounds and xylophone as played by Jonnie Common’s young daughter on Tiny Golden Quacks, a track delightfully named by Common’s son. Used as a form of therapy to help Perman get through a hard year, email him a happy thought (happy@positiveinteractions.space) and you can get in on the happiness too as you’ll receive a download of the album. “An album made from happy sounds in exchange for a happy message”; has there ever been anything more wholesome? Elsewhere, Sulka released Take Care, his debut album on Lost Map Records; exploring trip-hop, future garage and electronica, Marcel Moliner released High Place Phenomenon, his debut EP as Nice Humans; dream-pop outfit Auld Spells released That’s the Way It Goes, a gleaming exploration of climate crisis; new electronic duo Gefahrgeist released their moody second single, Nukular, and MALKA’s latest morsel of poptimism can be found on Reach Out as she sings: ‘The light will always follow the dark’, making us feel just that little bit better as we eased out of January.

Pretend it’s a City Director: Martin Scorsese Starring: Fran Lebowitz rrrrr

You’ll likely quiver with envy while watching Pretend It’s a City, Martin Scorsese’s new series following author and raconteur Fran Lebowitz around New York. The bohemian downtown artist life that it depicts is all but obliterated now, in an age of wellness and constant surveillance and social media influencers – topics Lebowitz takes to with acerbic energy and fascinating aplomb. Lebowitz traverses the trauma of being a girl in ‘50s America to the unmistakable truth of the #MeToo movement via the bohemian of the intellectual pantheon circles in which she ran – Warhol’s Factory, Charles Mingus, Duke Ellington’s dinner parties – without breaking a sweat or losing her humour. She’s effortless. Scorsese incorporates film clips into the doc, from Joseph Losey’s The Boy with Green Hair to Visconti’s The Leopard, using cinema as a way to contextualise life, and to enhance it, allowing us to see the past, and the world, through Fran/Scorsese’s eyes – through cinema. The result is a beautiful symphony to New York: the New York of West Side Story and Rear Window, of Taxi Driver and Breakfast at Tiffany’s, of the Velvet Underground and the New York Dolls. The kind of New York that perhaps only exists now in the feverish imagination. In a time when the world is as unrecognisable as it ever has been, Pretend it’s a City is a delightful missive in which to mentally luxuriate, as well as a comforting reminder that the times always change, whether we like it or not. [Katie Driscoll]

Streaming now on Netflix The Mauritanian Director: Kevin Macdonald Starring: Tahar Rahim, Jodie Foster, Shailene Woodley, Benedict Cumberbatch rrrrr

The Mauritanian splits its time between three threads: Mohamedou Ould Slahi (Tahar Rahim) who languishes in Guantanamo Bay for years, without charge or trial; his new allies, defence attorney Nancy Hollander (Jodie Foster) and her associate Teri Duncan (Shailene Woodley); and military prosecutor Lt. Stuart Couch (Benedict Cumberbatch), who is tasked with bringing Slahi to trial, but finds more questions than answers when looking into this supposed terrorist mastermind. In The Last King of Scotland, director Kevin Macdonald blended fact and fiction and gave us a pulpy, compelling film about the horrors enacted by Idi Amin. Here, he takes a leaf out of Paul Greengrass’ book and frequently shoots in a loose shaky-cam fashion, and takes a much more sober, stately and staid approach. But where Greengrass can imbue quieter moments with the same sense of immediacy and tension as sequences of high bombast, here the film’s depressingly frequent chat-and-a coffee scenes are so ponderous and mild as to feel inert. Fortunately, the film has an ace in the hole in the shape of Tahar Rahim, who has been stealing the show in everything he’s done since BAFTA winner A Prophet. Whenever he’s onscreen, the film finds its centre. What Slahi goes through is horrifying, and although it’s been better detailed elsewhere (most notably in Zero Dark Thirty and The Report), the humanity Rahim brings to it is a fresh and much-needed perspective. [Tom Charles]

The Mauritanian is released 26 Feb by ErosSTX, and screens at Glasgow Film Festival 25-28 Feb

Pretend it’s a City The Mauritanian It's a Sin The Great

TV catch-up

Channel 4 start the year with three sharp shows to help you through lockdown

TV has been a saviour during lockdown, and particularly overflowing with gems right now is All 4. In the middle of its Channel 4 run is The Great, the ‘occasionally true story’ of how Catherine the Great (winningly played by Elle Fanning) seized the throne from her boorish husband, Peter. It’s written by Tony McNamara, who was behind Yorgos Lanthimos’s similarly raunchy exercise in alternative history, The Favourite. Nicholas Hoult – who’s uproariously funny as Peter and proves once again to have a knack for playing narcissistic bastards – is also a common denominator between the two. There are shades, too, of Armando Iannucci in its commitment to exposing the ruling political class as a grubby cabal of craven morons. Needless to say, The Great lives up to its title. Russell T Davies’ It’s a Sin, the first British TV series to focus on the AIDS crisis, should have been made years ago but also feels hugely of the moment. It deftly walks the tightrope of being a joyous celebration of being young and gay in the 1980s and a deeply sad lament to the lives that were needlessly taken in that decade when fear, ignorance and indifference allowed the deadly virus to run rampant. It centres on a group of friends who arrive in London in 1981 as fresh-faced teens and follows them into the early 90s, which not all of them get to see. Each death hits with a cold, sharp shock and the show fizzes with repressed anger, although it sometimes feels aimed at the wrong targets. One character’s clueless mother seems to shoulder most of the rage that a more politically radical series might have aimed at the Tory government and rightwing media’s mishandling of the pandemic (times haven’t changed much). Despite this misstep, this is powerful, heartbreaking, unmissable TV. Also make time for the return of Back, the delicious sitcom centred on the acrimony between Stephen (David Mitchell), an uptight pub landlord, and Andrew (Robert Webb), a louche interloper who was fostered for a few weeks by Stephen’s parents decades earlier and has now returned to town and ingratiated himself into the family once again. It’s basically a middleaged Peep Show, but here the mind games and seething resentments aren’t confined to the characters’ inner monologues but out in the open for everyone to hear. It’s a bitchy delight. [Jamie Dunn]

The Great screens Sun, 9pm

It’s a Sin screens Fri, 9pm

Back screens Thu, 10pm

Book Reviews

Duck Feet

By Ely Percy rrrrr

Nightshift

By Kiare Ladner rrrrr

Diary of a Film

By Niven Govinden rrrrr

Bolt from the Blue

By Jeremy Cooper rrrrr

Set in Renfrew in the mid-noughties, Duck Feet is an episodic novel composed of a series of short, snappy stories. A boisterous bildungsroman, it follows teenager Kirsty Campbell and her pals as they traverse the halls of Renfrew High, growing up and growing apart. It’s not all painting your nails with Tipp-Ex and wondering whether you’ll get nipped at the Kirky disco. The tension of changing social attitudes thrums beneath these interactions, littered with the kind of casual racism and homophobia common at the time. Percy pulls no punches, leaning into the toe-curling impotency of school life, and deals with bullying, teenage pregnancy, and academic and social pressures with a real, earthy sense of humour. Standout episodes include Pure Gay, which deals with the lead singer of Kirsty’s favourite (alas, fictional) Scots boyband Stramash coming out, and the casual homophobia of one of her best friends; Witch, a snappy short about a “pure mad gothic chick” joining class and communicating with the spirit world via a makeshift ouija board in the library; and Blood, a complex and gut-wrenching take on the fall out of a knife crime. Written in Scots, huge chunks are told through sharp, witty dialogue which perfectly captures the breathlessness of being a teenager. Duck Feet is a labour of love, a crackling coming of age, and a warm, witty celebration of working class life and culture in the West of Scotland. [Michael Lee Richardson]

Monstrous Regiment, pre-orders shipping mid-February, £8.99 The modern world has gifted us enough tech tools to create an intoxicating mash-up of catfishing, fake news, Stan culture and obsession. Set mainly in the luddite 1990s, Nightshift is a dark reminder that these kinds of infatuations have always existed in analogue. Meggie wants to be a writer, wants to be sexually thrilling and thrilled, wants to be other. But she’s living with Graham and working in media monitoring. Her world is liminal until she meets Sabine: an elusive, nocturnal being whose life is mysterious and sexy in all the ways Meggie covets. She allows herself to succumb to Sabine disastrously quickly, and from hereon Nightshift becomes a study of female friendship, sexuality, neuroses and the fusion of reality, fiction and the grey spaces in between. At its heart, the book exposes how simple it is to lose control of yourself; at its rough edges it displays the ease with which someone can manipulate, love and toss away another. As the leading duo explore London’s recesses under the cover of nighttime, it becomes increasingly easy to understand how she got pulled in – particularly if you’ve experienced a toxic relationship. But the twists and turns in the story prevent predictability, and Ladner’s gorgeous shadowy writing creates a daunting but exhilarating world that’s difficult to leave. [Kirstyn Smith]

Picador, 18 Feb, £14.99

panmacmillan.com An auteur touches down in an unnamed Italian city, home to a prestigious film festival, to present the world premiere of his latest masterpiece. In between photocalls and hotel meetings, the unnamed director meets a local woman, Cosima, and the pair bond over their shared, lifelong dedication to art. The chance meeting becomes something like fate when the filmmaker discovers Cosima’s published, half-buried novel from her youth, inspired by a boyfriend who died tragically. Her story may just become his next film project. Meanwhile, the director must wrestle with his own anxieties: his cinematic legacy, the toll his creative hunger is taking on his husband and child and whether his identity can be untethered from his art.

Diary of a Film is a slow, careful novel that carves out its characters through their interactions with each other. When the director catches up with the co-stars of his film, Tom and Lorien, who are orbiting each other in an uncertain courtship, we learn as much about his sensibilities as we do about the actors’. In this way, Niven Govinden’s narrative is reminiscent of Rachel Cusk’s recent Outline trilogy: sparse, contemplative and perhaps painstakingly slow paced for some readers. But stay with Diary of a Film, fall into its rhythms, and a few nights at a film festival will become an existential exploration of the creative process. [Katie Goh] In a year which has seen most of our relationships take to the page and screen, Jeremy Cooper’s Bolt from the Blue feels eerily prescient. Unravelling over 30 years, the epistolary novel chronicles the letters, postcards, and emails that pass between a mother and daughter after the latter leaves home to begin her studies at a prestigious London art college in the 80s. “It is difficult,” the daughter writes in her introduction, “to match the Lynn Gallagher who wrote these letters to the person who made the films described, even though I am both these women.” The ensuing letters become an exercise in how identity and selfhood are recovered from this tension, an archival imagining of how two women might navigate the knotty entanglement of independence and interdependence that family both promises and threatens. It is an absorbing premise and an audaciously understated medium through which to explore it, yet the result is a somewhat mixed bag. The conflict between Lynn and her mother frequently feels manufactured – the letter form favouring text for subtext – or simply unsaid, the unspoken ellipses texturally interesting but narratively frustrating. And while themes of gender and class weave throughout the correspondence, a more incisive critique of the relationship between art, Britain and money is needed from a novel that unspools against the backdrop of Thatcherism and Brexit. [Anahit Behrooz]

Dialogue Books, 18 Feb, £14.99

hachette.co.uk Fitzcarraldo Editions, Out Now, £12.99

fitzcarraldoeditions.com

ICYMI

Surreal sketch duo Róisín and Chiara experience teen cult classic Heathers for the very first time

Illustration: Maisy Summer

When we decided to watch Heathers – a high school comedy from the late 80’s – we were expecting a pastel-hued, proto-Mean Girls giggly snuggle fest. This seemed like suitable viewing for the grimmest month since the Visigoths invaded. What we weren’t prepared for was a blood-soaked deconstruction of American capitalist society headed up by the aggressively cool Winona Ryder and strangely fit Christian Slater. The jumpers may be fluffy, but the dialogue is razor sharp and sick in the head. The plot of Heathers is familiar to a host of high school comedies from She’s All That to Never Been Kissed; an allegorical tale of dog-eat-dog where nice guys finish last (maybe). This time, however, our anti-hero behaves a little differently. Rather than killing the Prom-QueenBitch-Oppressor with kindness, Ryder's Veronica goes about dethroning the adolescent dictator with actual murder – or specifically with a series of macabre staged suicides. Veronica is a reluctant member of ‘The Heathers’, the bitchy, scrunchie-wearing elite of Westerburg High. As her brunette locks suggest, she secretly deplores the ruthless cruelty of basic blonde head honcho, Heather Chandler. Like most teenagers she spends her evenings furiously journaling in gigantic handwriting, while wearing a monocle. Liberation from the Heather tyranny arrives in the form of an emotionally damaged Christian Slater, replete with tiny earring and massive motorbike. Let us take a moment to mention their voices; Slater’s sounds like a Dickensian-American out of work thief who’s ageing backwards, and Ryder’s deep, sultry, manly, whiny moan is music to our ears. These actors have such hilarious, characterful, odd voices. Are voices that characterful nowadays? It’s as though modern actors are auto-tuned, whereas in Heathers they had more of a garage rock feel.

And how about the language these alluring voices intone? Filthy, merciless and startlingly graphic (‘you stupid fuck’). You wouldn’t get away with a lot of it nowadays (too rude for our ‘snowflake’ sensibilities!?) but it’s wonderfully satisfying. Take

“Heathers was made in 1989 before America became a global embarrassment. I wonder how far its creators would think we’ve come?”

Heather casually asking Veronica, ‘why are you pulling my dick?’. Why don’t we say that to each other? Why can’t I be pulling my friend’s non-physical dick? Why does it have to be her boring leg? Things get pretty existential when we realise that the school is really a stand-in for American society at large. All of humanity is there – indeed, you’ll probably find someone in the credits with whom you identify; ‘Fat Cynic’/ ‘Nerd’ / ‘Heavy Metaller 1’. But things get prophetic when it seems that even a radical attempt to rid the school of evil by deposing (or impeaching) the Queen won’t work. It may be impossible to undo the ingrained competitiveness and vertical ties of power and influence that hold this American microcosm together. On a different note there is a relaxing ease to watching this un-CGI’d, un-botoxed world. We’ve become used to watching (especially female) faces that are finding it hard to express emotion due to ‘procedures’. Poor Hollywood starlets, frozen in fillers. ‘It’s just so fucking boring’, a Heather would say. At least in this film we can enjoy the eccentrically positioned eyebrows of Mr. Slater. We were shocked, freaked out, concerned by so much in the film. We admit we seldom laughed out loud during viewing; we did not find Heathers funny, per se, but we divined humour in the dark moral of the tale. This film – like Withnail and I, Edward Scissorhands, Arizona Dream, Harold and Maude and so many other films from our childhoods – has character. It’s eccentric and surreal, sometimes excruciating or disturbing but essentially titillating. It is essentially strange as in ‘not previously known’, not strange as in ‘I don’t get it. I don’t like it’.

Heathers was made in 1989 before America became a global embarrassment. I wonder how far its creators would think we’ve come? And just a quick post-script; did anyone else notice Jordan Brookes’ cameo as the policeman? If anyone has any more information about this please get in touch.

Róisín and Chiara: Back to Back is available to watch on NextUp Comedy roisinandchiara.com

The Skinny On... Stuart Braithwaite

Ahead of releasing their tenth studio album – As the Love Continues – Mogwai’s Stuart Braithwaite tells us who he thinks is the worst, what last made him cry and which celebrity he thinks he could take in a fight

In 2020 there wasn’t a whole lot to get excited about, but Mogwai gave us two things. In May they surprised us with the release of their stunning ZeroZeroZero soundtrack which they used to help raise money for Help Musicians and NHS Charities, and then in October, excitement rippled around our respective Skinny home offices (kitchen tables, bedroom desks etc) once more as Mary Anne Hobbs gave the lush Dry Fantasy its first airing on BBC Radio 6 Music, announcing that Mogwai were set to release a brand new studio album – As the Love Continues – in February 2021. It was just the news we needed to hear as the days had started getting noticeably shorter, the nights darker, and the ongoing news cycle, well, you know? It feels like that day in October was just yesterday, but here we are, already in February, with the release of As the Love Continues imminent, or perhaps it’s already out, depending on when you’re reading this? Either way, congratulations for making it this far; you did it, here is your reward: a Q&A with none other than Stuart Braithwaite as he tells us about the last thing that made him cry, which celebrity he thinks he could take in a fight, and lets us all in on a pretty exhilarating secret!

Photo: Rock Action

What’s your favourite place to visit? I’m lucky to have visited a lot of great places, but I think Tokyo is my favourite. It’s unlike any other city and changes every time I go there. It’s wonderfully weird.

What’s your favourite colour? I’m not sure I have one. I have a lot of black clothes. Is black a colour?

Who was your hero growing up? Yoda. I loved Star Wars as a kid (and still do). I think Yoda seems super wise and I like diminutive heroes.

Whose work inspires you now? I’m constantly amazed by the music of David Bowie. His records are so varied and so unique. How have you stayed inspired during the multiple lockdowns and various restrictions that have been in place since last March? Being stuck indoors isn’t the worst when trying to write music so it hasn’t been too hard. Having things to do can be a bit distracting when trying to get songs written.

What’s your favourite meal to cook at home? I love making Indian food. I’m vegan so am a big dahl fan.

What three people would you invite to your virtual dinner party and what ice-breaker question would you ask them? Werner Herzog, Siouxsie Sioux and Tilda Swinton; how’s everyone doing this evening?

What would your answer be to your ice-breaker question? ?????

Apart from your own, what album are you most looking forward to coming out this year? I’m really excited to hear the new Blanck Mass record. I think Ben is on a real roll right now.

What’s the worst film you’ve ever seen and what made it so bad? The film version of The Hobbit was unspeakably awful. Turning a pretty slight book into three films was a disgusting money-making exercise. I’ve still not seen the second or third parts.

What book would you take to a protracted period of governmentenforced isolation? The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. It’s an amazing book and since it’s a while since I read it and I have a rubbish memory it’d feel like a new book. It’s also pretty big.

Who’s the worst? Michael Gove is the worst. He’s an embarrassment to Scotland.

When did you last cry? I cried watching the film Soul. I dare anyone to watch it and not.

What are you most scared of? I’m scared of greedy people. They’re mostly in charge and look at the mess they’ve made of everything.

When did you last vomit? I used to puke when I was drinking all the time but have curtailed that, thankfully. I think I was sick because some food was too salty a few months ago.

Tell us a secret? Donald Trump is going to jail.

Which celebrity could you take in a fight? Jacob Rees-Mogg.

If you could be reincarnated as an animal which animal would it be and why? Definitely a dog. They sleep all day and just want to have fun.

As the Love Continues is released on 19 Feb via Rock Action; Mogwai premiere the album on 13 Feb with a special online live performance, filmed at Glasgow’s Tramway

The soundtrack to ZeroZeroZero is out now; ZeroZeroZero is available to watch from 4 Feb via Sky Atlantic