Yeah, yeah… we get the idea; but this piece is just drivel. It epitomises a certain kind of ennui that a very small number of ‘luvvie’ types are wont to emote about every now and again, and have been doing so since Shakespeare’s time, if not before.
What, exactly, is the ‘spirit’ that’s posited to have been lost when the writer intones about “spirituality”? England is renowned for – if anything – its pragmatism. Invoking Dungeness (and Jarman, for that matter) as a ‘last hope’ is about as useful as mourning the loss of a troublesome appendix.
At risk of overstretching a pun, i’d say this article sees a writer ‘coasting’ in order to earn some pennies. No doubt others will applaud his lack of fortitude.
I can appreciate your criticism, but I must say. There’s something to be said for the ability to say nothing using as many words as possible. It’s a skill I mastered by the time I was eighteen in order to fulfill the word counts and page counts my teachers seemed determined to foist upon us. I am, if nothing else, a great imitator of others, and I learned to imitate the dry overlong verbosity I found in newspaper editorials and in history textbooks. Most of my teachers never picked up on how much or how badly I padded everything I ever wrote and I got excellent grades on most every essay I ever wrote once I figured out the trick to it, and it is a trick. All the big words and long sentences tend to make one appear far more intelligent than one might or might not be and people will tend to give greater credence to any idea that sounds thoughtful and intelligently articulated, even if the idea is utterly simple, completely nonsensical, or even if there is no real underlying idea. It’s not altogether different than a magician who uses wild gesticulations, gaudy outfits, bright colors, and flamboyant personality to control the attention of the audience and make the simple appear magical.
I wrote so many essays and such in college that it became a habit. These days I can hardly turn it off and tend towards far greater rhetorical flourish than is necessary. You’ve probably noticed that I struggle to be anything like concise, and as you say, many don’t. I save my greatest admiration for poets, who somehow manage to make profound statements of great import out of a handful of lines arranged together just so. Theirs is a talent I am certain I can never duplicate.
There’s something off about Dungeness.
It makes you crabby.
Ken Bowman
9 days ago
Why is it that such as Jarman who only have pessimism to offer are treated with such respect?
“Poor ruined Kent with its ugly commuter towns, there every field and hedgerow is under siege.”
Even now half a century or so later “unknown Kent”, between the M2 and M20, remains little tarnished with nary a commuter town to be seen
JR Stoker
9 days ago
Wonderful writing, evocative of Jarman, Dungeness, and who we are becoming
Benedict Waterson
9 days ago
Always interesting — but also slightly meaningless, confusing and tedious — to read about films or books I have never seen or read.
Elizabeth Dixon
9 days ago
Elegiac tribute to the eighties’ Elizabethan England of Derek Jarman and Vivienne Westwood. Greenham Common, Sizewell are also in the picture along with Wat Tyler-style riots against Margaret Thatcher’s poll tax. The last intensely creative period, now replaced by dispiriting post-modernism and uncontrolled immigration. Sad to see.
UnHerd Reader
9 days ago
What remains is a visit to eerie Dungeness with its pebbles, struggling shrubs, 3 shutdown power stations, 2 lighthouses, gravel pits, bird sanctuaries, fishermen shacks turned edgy pieds-a-mer, toy railway, overflying Spitfires. And from time to time a tourist coach. It never rains. Et partout la mer.
Matt B
8 days ago
Dungeness is great for many things – including ship-wreck diving off the nuclear power station. The whole area holds its own on so many levels: it did not need and benefits in no way from the luvvie distraction of DJ’s shack – nice thought it is in a minor way. Try looking at the fishing boats instead. Way more interesting.
Yeah, yeah… we get the idea; but this piece is just drivel. It epitomises a certain kind of ennui that a very small number of ‘luvvie’ types are wont to emote about every now and again, and have been doing so since Shakespeare’s time, if not before.
What, exactly, is the ‘spirit’ that’s posited to have been lost when the writer intones about “spirituality”? England is renowned for – if anything – its pragmatism. Invoking Dungeness (and Jarman, for that matter) as a ‘last hope’ is about as useful as mourning the loss of a troublesome appendix.
At risk of overstretching a pun, i’d say this article sees a writer ‘coasting’ in order to earn some pennies. No doubt others will applaud his lack of fortitude.
I can appreciate your criticism, but I must say. There’s something to be said for the ability to say nothing using as many words as possible. It’s a skill I mastered by the time I was eighteen in order to fulfill the word counts and page counts my teachers seemed determined to foist upon us. I am, if nothing else, a great imitator of others, and I learned to imitate the dry overlong verbosity I found in newspaper editorials and in history textbooks. Most of my teachers never picked up on how much or how badly I padded everything I ever wrote and I got excellent grades on most every essay I ever wrote once I figured out the trick to it, and it is a trick. All the big words and long sentences tend to make one appear far more intelligent than one might or might not be and people will tend to give greater credence to any idea that sounds thoughtful and intelligently articulated, even if the idea is utterly simple, completely nonsensical, or even if there is no real underlying idea. It’s not altogether different than a magician who uses wild gesticulations, gaudy outfits, bright colors, and flamboyant personality to control the attention of the audience and make the simple appear magical.
I wrote so many essays and such in college that it became a habit. These days I can hardly turn it off and tend towards far greater rhetorical flourish than is necessary. You’ve probably noticed that I struggle to be anything like concise, and as you say, many don’t. I save my greatest admiration for poets, who somehow manage to make profound statements of great import out of a handful of lines arranged together just so. Theirs is a talent I am certain I can never duplicate.
TL:DR 🙂
Hah. I tip my hat to you, sir.
Beautiful word weaving.
There’s something off about Dungeness.
It makes you crabby.
Why is it that such as Jarman who only have pessimism to offer are treated with such respect?
“Poor ruined Kent with its ugly commuter towns, there every field and hedgerow is under siege.”
Even now half a century or so later “unknown Kent”, between the M2 and M20, remains little tarnished with nary a commuter town to be seen
Wonderful writing, evocative of Jarman, Dungeness, and who we are becoming
Always interesting — but also slightly meaningless, confusing and tedious — to read about films or books I have never seen or read.
Elegiac tribute to the eighties’ Elizabethan England of Derek Jarman and Vivienne Westwood. Greenham Common, Sizewell are also in the picture along with Wat Tyler-style riots against Margaret Thatcher’s poll tax. The last intensely creative period, now replaced by dispiriting post-modernism and uncontrolled immigration. Sad to see.
What remains is a visit to eerie Dungeness with its pebbles, struggling shrubs, 3 shutdown power stations, 2 lighthouses, gravel pits, bird sanctuaries, fishermen shacks turned edgy pieds-a-mer, toy railway, overflying Spitfires. And from time to time a tourist coach. It never rains. Et partout la mer.
Dungeness is great for many things – including ship-wreck diving off the nuclear power station. The whole area holds its own on so many levels: it did not need and benefits in no way from the luvvie distraction of DJ’s shack – nice thought it is in a minor way. Try looking at the fishing boats instead. Way more interesting.