killing thatcher

Margaret Thatcher was a poisonous automaton, and the very best interpretation that could be made of her behaviour and attitudes is that she was severely misguided in a way that kind of set her understanding of the universe at probably a very early age where up was down and vice-versa. 

I can’t recall why on earth I decided to purchase the audiobook of Rory Carroll’s Killing Thatcher however as I have never had a strong interest in the intricacies of the Irish struggles, etc, only an innate sympathy, not because I have anything other than antipathy for patriotism or even religious affiliations but of course I can see the ways in which a British presence in Ireland is a retrograde oppression (the worst kind of oppression). Also, British history is pox. I really should write down my motivations for getting involved in things as life almost always moves on and I forget. However, also, it doesn’t matter. 

 

It's a good book, and it’s a good example of how to make history gripping,* though of course it’s a story that would be hard to fluff – the ins and outs of the IRA plot to kill Thatcher at the Conservative conference in Brighton in 1984. Carroll appropriately paints all players (eg the IRA, the Conservatives) as equal pawns in a conflict they’ve inherited, rather than instigated although Thatcher with her robotic ‘strength’ in the face of near death (or anything) is a horrorshow who gives every impression that, if she had been killed in the bombing, she wouldn’t have noticed. The stories of others who were injured are sensitively told and naturally excruciating to hear about. 

 

As you can see I haven’t got to the end yet. I’m in part 3, which looks at the slow and steady (I’m assuming) process by which the bomber is (I’m assuming) caught. Carroll makes a good fist of turning people, whose jobs are just to be cogs in a machine, into inherently interesting and engaging people, with little biographical fragments and explanations for turns of phrase and approaches, that make you feel like you kind of know them, although you're really filling in most of the detail yourself. All these men – ok, there are two or three women – have a place in one of two power structures (UK government vs IRA) and the two power structures seemingly found/find value in keeping the battle going – as per The Wire, as per the three nations in 1984. Ultimately it’s not even my place to have sympathies but I am always going to be hostile to British imperialism (actually any imperialism). 

 

Fortunately none of this shizzle is ‘about’ me. Actually that’s probably the best bit of the whole book for me – thank Christ I wasn’t born in the British Isles! Though I have to say Ireland is one of my favourite places in the world, a superb country I want to see more of and hopefully will – quite soon. I know that’s a glib way to end but as I always say, this is my blog, not a review I wrote for Casual Supine Dickhead magazine where the glib endings have to have a cast-iron bottom. 

*as in - gripping like a thriller, as opposed to engaging like history often is

my philosophy of life

I don't have a philosophy of life, and I think that that is just one more misuse of the notion of 'philosophy', surely, but am I wrong. I did philosophy (with a capital P) in first year at Monash University in 1984, and I failed because I dropped out, and I thought the discussions were OK but very unformed, because everyone seemed to be talking in foolish semantics (did we really argue about 'can machines think?')? Monash is a fine institution but it was not for me in 1984, and probably no university would be. When I went there to enroll, a man who knew my name called and waved to me across a room, he was old, I had no idea who he was then and never found out. It is odd to think I was doing anything in 1984, as it was a famous year and everyone was saying 'it really is 1984', referring of course to the book by George Orwell. I was 19 and for some reason believed I had better things to do, but on reflection I cannot remember what those things might have been. Now, when I see students entirely unmotivated by their 1st year courses, I can only reflect on how they might feel, and realise that how they might feel is roughly as alien to me as how I recall I felt in that position, perhaps less so, I don't know. The Huxton Creepers played on campus one lunchtime, and I saw them play, and they were named after something in Sherlock Holmes, though I am not entirely sure what, a kind of shoe probably. On my first day at Monash I took the train to Holmesglen (hmm - interesting - but it probably wasn't Holmesglen, it was probably Jordanville) station and then caught a bus, I met a girl on the way, who was very outgoing, and we talked in a not particularly interesting way I suppose, though I would currently enjoy reading a transcript of that conversation, don't think that's not possible, all sound waves continue to exist, as I learnt in Grade 5. And then when we got to campus she met some guy she knew and mentioned in a short conversation that the first thing she was going to do was join the Liberal Club, but I never saw her again, or if I did, I didn't recognise her, but more likely they killed and ate her, and serves her right, for being a Liberal Party supporter.