A Cock and Bull Story (the film of the novel Tristram Shandy) was brilliant. It all got a bit weird when we got home though, and watched the South Bank Show's one-hour special on the making of the film. Watching a telly programme about a film which in turn is about making a film of an unfilmable book, which is about the impossiblity of writing a book is enough to make one's head spin. Tristram would approve, I feel.

And if you want to know more about Sterne, the Guardian has a good overview.

As an addendum to my post on October 15th about David Mitchell:

"More than ever, in a global, interconnected world, our lives are implicated in the lives of others. Strengthening democractic liberties and replacing a culture of fear for one of ethical responsibility and civic engagement are the only viable long-term responses to terrorism."

(Joanna Bourke, in the Guardian)

Christopher Hope chillingly, and rather brilliantly I think, describes Ian Smith in Brothers Under the Skin - Travels in Tyranny:

Looking across the room at Ian Smith, I had the old sense of rich unreality. He seemed to be an actor playing the role of Ian Douglas Smith. Theatricality with lethal repercussions – it could serve as another definition of modern tyranny. The flat voice began to swell as he was recalling Mugabe’s rejection of his advice. It began to throb as he recalled the injustice and the stupidity of Mugabe’s behaviour. It was as if too much power was being pumped into a material that was a very bad conductor of electricity. The ceramic stillness of Smith’s face seemed to vibrate under the tension. There was an overheating of the naval cavaties, which had the effect of sharpening still further his reedy voice and his words came out in machine-gun bursts.

The book itself gives fascinating insights not only into the characters of various dictators and tyrants, but also discusses the notion of tyranny and how it inserts itself into and is reflected by our society.

I read it because of an ongoing interest in representations of Zimbabwe and Southern Africa. It started with a trip to South Africa. There, I bought Rian Malan's My Traitor's Heart, a conscience-stricken account of life as a journalist in South Africa, as an Afrikaaner, and as a descendant of one of the architects of apartheid.

Barbara Trapido's biography of her childhood, Frankie & Stankie, is lighter. That is somewhat to be expected I guess - her past works are novels, light riffs on Shakespeare's plays. But, for that, Frankie & Stankie is no less worth reading than the more hard-hitting memoirs of Malan for stories of life in apartheid Africa. And the tales of 'ordinary' people are more valuable in some ways because they confront us with tales that force us to consider our own prejudices and suggest we avoid any slips into easy demonisation without real consideration of life as it's lived.

Moving North to Zimbabwe, I can thoroughly recommend Andrew Meldrun's Where We Have Hope. Meldrun is the Guardian journalist for Southern Africa. He now files from Pretoria, following his expulsion from Zimbabwe for anti-government activity - i.e. writ. This is gripping journalism, and follows Meldrun as he goes to Zimbabwe to follow the changes in the country post-Smith. Hope rapidly descends into despair as his expectations - and those of the Zimbabweans he meets and talks to - are thwarted when Mugabe turns out to be just as bad, if not worse, than Smith.

And finally, Alexandra Fuller's own biography of her childhood is just gorgeous. Witty, biting, frank and beatifully written, Don't Let's go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood is fabulous. She then follows it up with the equally impressive Scribbling the Cat: Travels with an African Soldier, her account of a return trip to the region where she meets 'K', a former white soldier, with whom she travels into Mozambique.