Stephen Conlon's Posterous

Fast becoming a technology junkie. Ah, who am I kidding; I've been online since I was in the womb.

Review: Minsk 2011 A Reply to Kathy Acker

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"Strip clubs, underground raves and gay pride parades pulse beneath the surface of a city where sexuality is twisted by oppression. If scars are sexy then Minsk must be the sexiest city in the world.

A love letter to a home that exiles those willing to fight for it, Minsk, 2011 celebrates and mourns a land that has lost its way."

Indeed it does. Running in the Lyric Theatre until Sunday 4th November, Minsk 2011 is a thoroughly-engrossing, provoking piece of work. It features 9 actors who come together to play out struggles relating to: sexuality, class, objectification, and ownership - all of which converge in the city of Minsk which is grappling with terrorist attacks, social protests, and a long series of events which together led to a collective sense of disillusionment among these characters.

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'Characters' may not even be the correct word to describe the players on stage. They are more typically representations of the aforementioned struggles, with one woman giving a monologue on the etiquette of staring in Minsk, and how now a person there needs less than 1 second of eye contact to decide if someone is a friend or a foe. Another woman explains how, "the sight fo a man in a uniform makes [her] feel in danger", while a homosexual man is warned against the threat of 'skinheads', who are carrying out a series of hate crimes across the city. Then there is a third woman who knows nothing about the physical appearance of The Beatles, yet is aware of the identity of Yoko Ono, showing how 'Celebrity' has come to overthrow art in some circles.

This contestation between commodification and art is a key thematic component to the play. In one telling scene, three women dance in their lingerie to Britney Spears' cover of "I Love Rock 'n' Roll", grinding to the line, "... so put another dime in the jukebox". Indeed as the narrative demands of them, these women flit from shamed and prudish to titilating and explicit, all at the request of those with the perceived power to ensure their financial security.

This comes into play again when Katya, one of the dancers, is intoxicated and almost raped by two cyber-friends who prey upon her aspirations and force her to be a sexual creature, further demonstrating how these figures operate as representations rather than characters. Yet, this is a conscious (and effective) choice, as the lack of focus on character identity serves to emphasise the disconnect felt between the citizen and the city of Minsk.

The city's gay subculture is a perfect miniature example of the city's disconnect, with a worker's canteen being turned into a gay bar from sunset to sunrise. The property's uses from Day to Night are so disparate that even the guard who closes the bar "has no idea what it looks like during the day". Deception and ignorance have become essential means of survival in this setting.

The most startling sequence of the play is one in which a central figure is stripped naked, resulting in a full-frontal view for the audience. She is then pasted with black paint, before having her shape imprinted on the ground and her naked form becoming a spectacle, a symbol of the state of the oppressed female, sexual creature.

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Yet, despite its oft-morose tone, Minsk 2011 packs a punch thanks to strong performances and visual inter-cuttings of authentic video recordings of the strife in Minsk which sparked the development of this play in the first place.

With it having only a 90-minute running time, I am reluctant to say any more about the plots or the resolution the narrative offers. I will say, however, that the energy of the actors and the global resonance of the themes more than transcends the language barrier (which, for those unsure about this play, is solved thanks to subtitles overhead). Understanding the dialogue becomes secondary once the narrative establishes its pace and the actors make clear the play's perspective. Once that barrier is overcome, you are in for some beautiful, arresting, and challenging expressions of human oppression.

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REVIEW: Pvt. Wars

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‘Pvt. Wars’ is only on at Belfast’s Grand Opera House until Saturday, so first thing’s first: go buy a ticket now to see this well-executed, underrated gem of a play from James McLure.

 

Now for the ‘why’.

 

‘Pvt. Wars’ is funny. Funny in the way that only a great tragedy can be. Chris Robinson (Natwick) deserves props for making ‘asphyxiation-by-chair-leg’ a laugh-out-loud sight, while Gerard McCabe had the audience constantly amused with Gately’s drawling, glazed-eyed responses to Martin McCann’s Silvio romantic roleplaying and unhinged scheming. The singles’ bar scene between McCabe and McCann is one of the play’s true highlights, and serves as an example of the natural chemistry between all three of these actors.

 

The main plot focuses on these three men, who have been scarred by the Vietnam War, in a Veterans’ Hospital. Natwick is a seemingly-dismisive intellectual, whose arrogance masks his struggle to feel accepted by the others; Silvio is a show-boating, self-termed ‘psychopath’, whose comic full-frontal flashings are an attempt to compensate for genital injuries sustained in the war; and Gately is a meandering, floundering figure, both emotionally and physically at the centre of the play. Each character attempts to come to grips with a pervading concern throughout the course of the narrative, to frustrating ends.

 

Natwick is perpetually engrossed in The New York Times, creating a barrier between himself and the other patients, as Gately preoccupies himself with a technical task and Silvio finds it near impossible to sit still for more than 20 seconds.

 

It is this detachment which troubles Natwick. He longs for a sense of fraternity, trying repeatedly to forge a bond with the wound-up Silvio, to little success. Silvio, meanwhile, has lost security in both his sexual and national identities as a result of the War. He is constantly flashing the nurses, while his dream of appearing on The Johnny Carson Show is just one of many digs at America’s fascination with celebrity culture, instead of caring for its damaged soldiers.

 

Silvio’s concerns about his manhood and his patriotism come together when he contemplates wearing a Scottish kilt, a sartorial emblem of both a masculine and national identity untouched by the trauma of the Vietnam War.

 

Finally, there is Gately. All Gately seems to want is to fix a radio, believing that if he does so then he can leave the hospital. But as the play evolves and he is reminded again and again that, “You can leave any time you want”, we see that in actuality Gately is striving for any kind of purpose or drive to keep him going, and doesn’t know what that purpose would be in the outside world.

 

It is the fear of the unknown which ultimately draws all the characters together.

 

Bottom line: Go see ‘Pvt. Wars. It’s on a limited run and you do not want to miss it. When you see cinema listings consisting of 70% sequels and 30% CGI, it’s nice to sit in a theatre for 90 minutes and see a couple of talented actors just *gasp* ACT!

 

'Pvt. Wars' was produced by Pintsized Productions: keep up to date with all they are doing via their website.

David Copperfield read-a-thon

Full article on the David Copperfield read-a-thon coming soon over at Toonari Post, but in the meantime here are some photos I took tonight:

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Dickens 2012 NI Launch

Dickens 2012 NI kicked off with a launch event at the Ulster Hall on Wednesday (January 25th) morning. Queen's University Belfast made its presence felt thanks to organiser Leon Litvack and a handful of MA students (including yours truly!). Press photgraphers were there from The Irish News, The Belfast Telgraph, Ulster Tatler and several other publications, so keep an eye out for all the coverage. In the meantime, here are some photos I snapped during the launch:

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Dr. Leon Litvack.

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MLA Michelle McIlveen.

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Barnardo's Director Lynda Wilson.

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Belfast Pickwick Players.

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Packed house.

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Myself and Mary-Teresa Madders.

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Myself, Mary-Teresa Madders and William Howell.

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Dr. Leon Litvack, Mary-Teresa Madders and William Howell.

"Who is your favourite writer?"

"Who is your favourite writer?"

As an English Literature graduate, this question is the equivalent of asking a parent, "Which is your favourite child?" or asking a Trekkie, "Kirk or Picard?". Well, maybe I am stretching things a little with the Trekkies because the ones I know are more than happy to enter into a six-hour diatribe on their favourite. Hopefully, this blog post won't take six hours to get through.

People often ask me, "Who is your favourite writer?" because I was a passionate English student at school, I was an English major at university, and because I am now doing a Masters degree in Modern Literary Studies (hold the snorts of derision - this is my blog). Sometimes I will be really difficult with people and reply, "Well, I could tell you my favourite satirist! Or my favourite playwright, Or my favourite poet!", and so on and so on. But, honestly? The novelist, er, author, er... ah, screw it: the PERSON I keep coming back to is Jonathan Tropper.

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I was first made aware of Jonathan by an Irish novelist by the name of Ronan O'Brien. I had read Ronan's debut (and to this date, only) novel "Confessions of a Fallen Angel" and then emailed him to pass on my compliments. He responded and cited Jonathan Tropper as one of his inspirations, specifically his book, "How to Talk to a Widower". I had enjoyed O'Brien's book immensely (this feeling was short-lived and I'll get back to why later on), so I wasted no time in checking out this bizarrely-titled book by Tropper. I use the word 'bizarrely' because this was at a time when "Deathly Hallows", "City of Glass", "Breaking Dawn" and the oh-so-imaginative "The Secret" were flying around. Nothing against these books (okay, that's a lie) but they didn't exactly condition me to expect big things from a book with 'Widower' in the title.

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A dozen pages in and I was HOOKED! Tropper's style, his characters, his humour, and everything else he was doing came flooding through loud and clear. As a reader, this isn't something which you find too often in the first chapter of a first read of the first book of a new author. I found myself feeling more excited about reading than I had since Orwell's "Animal Farm" back when I was 12 years old. I devoured 'Widower' that weekend, and I quickly went around local bookstores in an effort to track down the rest of Tropper's back catalogue. I soon got my hands on "Everything Changes" and "Bush Falls" (as "The Book of Joe" is titled here in the UK), and read through those just as quickly. In fact, 'Joe' quickly surplanted 'Widower' as my favourite Tropper text and it is one which I cannot wait to get back to once this semester ends and I have time for some leisure reading again.

After 3 strong, entertaining and moving novels, I finally made a start on Tropper's debut piece, "Plan B". This was quite a different kind of reading experience because it was so clear to me that Tropper had learned a hell of a lot since his first book. Please do not misunderstand me: "Plan B" is still a great read, but Tropper's literary voice since then has only become more refined and more confident - as you hope to, but very rarely, see with any new author. Too many come out of the gate all guns blazing, but fall at the second hurdle and never recover. So, having read Tropper's work in reverse, it was refreshing to see a fledgling new writer with lots of potential and to know that all of that potential was well on its way to being realised in the present day.

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After finishing "Plan B" in late 2008, it was a bit of a shock to the system to realise that I had well over a year to wait until Tropper's next offering (the 2010 bestseller "This Is Where I Leave You") would be released. In this time, I began my undergraduate degree in English Literature and my habit of recreational reading was soon a thing of the past. Instead, I was buried under Joyce, Synge, Woolf and Poe; Edgeworth, Wells, Darwin and Freud; Dickens, Gaskell, Haggard and Eliot; Dickinson, Hemingway, Austen and Pope; Smollet, Sterne, Defoe and Fielding; and so on and so on and so on and so on.... These folks weren't the shabbiest company with whom to spend my days, and for a while they managed to shake Mr. Tropper out of my head.

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Then came summer break of my second year of college when I received an email from Amazon recommending that I pre-order the 'soon-to-be-released, sure-to-be-bestseller latest title from Jonathan Tropper' and I had one of those cartoon moments where my jaw hit the floor and my tongue rolled out to the end of the room.

Tropper!

I knew that name!

I knew that name because I read his books!

I knew that name because I read his books FOR FUN!

You must understand: by this point in my degree I was speed-reading 2-3 novels per week, was barreling through a few hundred pages of critical reviews, and working a part-time job which wound up involving more hours than my actual degree. So to be reminded of the one author in the last 5 years who had made me genuinely excited about reading was oh-so-sweet and oh-so-needed at that particular point in my studies. Come to think of it, I am nearing that point again in my Masters degree, so the sooner Tropper book #6 is released, the better for my sanity!

So, I ordered the book, I read the book, I loved the book. Same old routine as I had come to know when reading Tropper's books, but by this point in 2010 I was beginning to hear rumblings that several of his titles were in the process of being adapted into screenplays. Now, THIS was a real treat for me. I had always described Tropper's books as reading like film scripts, yet maintaining the depth and escapism that one mentally concocts when they talk about a 'great read'. As I type, the projects are still in development and very little is known about the cast/director/release dates; but for now I am happy to know that Tropper's stories will soon find an even wider audience.

For someone who has never read one of his novels before, let me attempt to break down what I find so appealing about Tropper's works of fiction:

  • A fictional world. Forgive the generic heading, but I'm fast encroaching on that six-hour limit I promised not to exceed. Tropper's novels tend to follow one main character, while a wealth of secondary characters populate the narrative and lend their own personal problems to whatever challenge with which the protagonist is saddled. Unlike a lot of contemporary texts which lump secondary characters as thinly-layered plot devices, each and every one of Tropper's figures has a quirk, a voice or a background which inform the ways in which they behave. This leads to a richer narrative and a more memorable story in the long run.
  • Flashy. Tropper isn't. He doesn't have boy wizards, he doesn't have werewolves, and he doesn't even go near vampires. His style doesn't seek to emulate Joyce, nor does it attempt to master a particular literary genre. All I can say to this is THANK FUCKING CHRIST. I think that along the way, too many writers forget to enjoy themselves and to enjoy how lucky they are to be writing books for a living. But with Tropper, you can just tell that this guy is having a blast. It's infectious.
  • Family. Perhaps the most crucial, recurring element of Tropper's novels is family. Whether this is the group of friends who form a make-shift family during a drug-detox in 'Plan B', or the Shiva-sitting immediate/extended relatives who are crammed together for the majority of 'This Is Where I Leave You', Tropper always seems to find some sort of event to bring all of his characters together and exercise the in-built tensions to which we can all relate when we are subjected to the torturous nightmare of a family gathering. The laughing through the tears, the crying through the laughs, the punching through the hugs - it is all there and then some. I have NEVER came across another writer who crafts characters and families with whom I am so easily able to identify. This is coming from a man who rebels against the idea of identifiying the self with fictional creations, but what do you know? Tropper gets to me.
  • Authenticity. Holy crap, how does he do it? I ask myself of this very question every single time that I finish a book. Hell, I ask it after nearly every chapter! The dialogue and the descriptions in these books are among the most raw, real and engrossing that I have ever experienced as a reader. The sex scenes are often full of awkward movements, clumsy manoeuvring and ridiculous excuses for 'dirty talk' (I am still traumatised by Doug's encounter with the neighbourhood nymphomaniac in 'Widower') that we can all unfortunately relate to in some way. What it all comes down to is the refreshing fact that Tropper does not bullshit his audience. I don't know much about Tropper as a person, but it would seem that he is a very down-to-earth, well-educated, professional family man... who just happens to have a wicked sense of humour (that birthday cake visual from 'This Is Where I Leave You' has never left my mind) and a taste for expressing the lesser-featured challenges in life.

Okay, I feel like I am only half done with what I could say, so I am just going to stop now and leave anything else for another day. If this post has made you half-curious about checking out one of Tropper's books, then head on over to Amazon. You can also find out more information about Jonathan on his website and/or by following him on Twitter.

Happy reading!

P.S. As for why my opinion of O'Brien's novel has changed? Well, after reading 'Widower' I realised that it was less of an influence on O'Brien, but more of a blue-print which he used as a play-by-play to write his novel. There was no plagiarism or anything like that, but it was certainly a case of one man believing imitation to be the highest form of flattery. Personally? I believe imitation is the highest form of needing a good kick in the balls, or (to follow in Tropper's footsteps) a good lit birthday candle shoved up the ass.

I'm living in a Winter Wonderland!

Been decorating the living room this weekend, and here are some of the results:

 

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^ Tigger has been a fixture on the tree for more years than I can remember.

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^ I made (well, threw paint at) these bells back in nursery school when I was 2 or 3. They still have my original name tag attached.

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^ Got this little fella for my first Christmas 21 years ago.

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^ The Three Wise Men.

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^ Looking chummy.

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^ Around the World in half a dozen cards. 

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^ These belonged to my maternal grandmother, who died back in the early 1980s. These still get put up every year, no matter what.

Victoria Shopping Centre at Christmas

The Victoria Shopping Centre is looking gorgeous at the moment. Get on down and spend money you don't have while basking in the beautiful sights/atmosphere.

 

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Continental Market - Take Two

Some more photos from the market:

 

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Continental Market

It's here again!

 

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Candid Magazine

Recently I began writing for a new digital publication called Candid Magazine. I had swore off any form of journalism after working at the Queen's student newspaper, but this magazine has a lot more freedom and diversity to it. Issue 1 of Candid is free to download now, and I strongly recommend giving it a go as it has the potential to grow in to something incredibly fun for people interested in fashion and the arts.

 

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My first article for the magazine was a review of Woody Allen's latest film Midnight in Paris and I would really appreciate people checking it out if they are thinking about seeing the movie. I couldn't say enough good things about the film!