The Art of Spiegelman

A full 18 months out of university, it wouldn't be a bad bet to suggest that I've probably forgotten anything valuable I paid the best part of £20,000 grand to learn. I did a literature degree and, by the end, was understandably sick of the site of novels, let alone poetry. To give you an idea of my declining interest in traditional literature, I've gone from reading two to three novels a week during my studies to having read three books in the last year and a half, two of which were autobiographies.

But, over the weekend, a documentary popped up on my Sky planner which reminded me exactly why I chose to give three years of my life to an arts degree which, if you believe some, isn't the best way to go about getting a job. The documentary was called The Art of Spiegelman and documented the work of Art Spiegelman, a graphic novelist of Jewish descent, famed for his depiction of his parents' and his own subsequent experience of the Holocaust, in Maus.



Maus is essentially a portrayal of the Holocaust, in which Jews are portrayed as Mice and Nazis as Cats. But there's so much more going on - particularly Art's own understanding of being a member of the generation of Jews that was born after the Holocaust, and had to come to terms with the guilt of their heritage. Before Maus, I'd never read a graphic novel, but it showed me how much can be done in the cartoon format. After all, a picture tells a thousand words, so why write all of them out?

For example, in the frame above, Spiegelman portrays himself as a human in a mouse mask, not as a fully-fledged animal. I wrote reams on what that little intricacy could mean for the post-Holocaust generation of Jews.

I'm not a particularly morbid person but trauma and the Holocaust in particular whet my literary appetite, which is what draws attracts me to Spiegelman's work. Like most students, I skipped uni classes that weren't (in my opinion) worth getting out of bed for but, whether I was fresh as a daisy or still half-drunk from the night before, I drank in every minute of my Holocaust module.

Back to the Spiegelman documentary though, and it turns out, Maus wasn't the only traumatic event his work has tackled. A New York resident, Spiegelman was in his office when the planes hit the World Trade Center on 9/11. His daughter's high school was just four blocks away and in the likely impact zone had the towers toppled instead of collapsing. From the experience of that day, he produced In The Shadow of No Towers.

I've tried to explain my fascination with trauma in my academic essays, and I'm still not sure what the route is. Perhaps it's because, no matter how many ways you read about it, things like the Holocaust are only understandable through experience. And maybe not even then. It's just one continuous process of trying to learn about something you can never fully comprehend. I don't have a spare 10,000 hours but I'm willing to guess that it still wouldn't be enough to master what the Holocaust or 9/11 mean about the world we live in.

But it won't stop me trying.

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Honey, I Bastardised The History Channel

It's rare that I get hooked on trash TV. Ok, that's a lie. So far in 2014, my televisual diet has mostly consisted of Benefits Street and the resurgent Celebrity Big Brother. And as far as trash TV goes, those two shows are pretty good examples of the channels (C4 and Five) you'd naturally go to if you wanted to give your brain cells a hearty flogging.

But where do you turn for your trash TV when there's no one with breasts as big as your head on the box? Casey Batchelor, not White Dee, if you must ask.

My answer, weirdly, is the History Channel, or History as it's now known.

Hitler, star of new reality series, Adi and Eva Take Poland.

Once upon a time, the History Channel meant watching The Nazis: A Warning From History and David Starkey banging on about crumbling monasteries. Fast forward to 2014 though, and the focus is still history, except it's now the history of rednecks and generally unfortunate American stereotypes. In fact, when the channel re-branded under Disney and ABC in 2008, it might have been more appropriate to rename it the Civil War channel. Now, I'm not saying Disney was a fascist, but doesn't it seem convenient that his legacy is responsible for the disappearance of A Warning From History from our TV screens?

Who am I to judge though, because I didn't tune into pre-Disney History on a daily basis, as I do now. I'm hooked on shows like Storage Wars - don't try and fob me off with knockoffs like Storage Hunters on ITV3 - and their eccentric, scripted characters, like Barry Weiss. Excavating early Roman settlements? No thanks, I'd rather watch a rich old man stage the sale of a custom Harley the producers placed in a storage locker for him.

And if that's not on, there's always the American Pickers, Mike and Frank, 'freestyling' across the South, asking toothless hicks whether they can help fund their moonshine production by buying their old Coca Cola signs from them. It's a shame that the places they find are actually all pre-arranged. Imagine if they weren't: I'm picturing Mike walking away from an old barn, Gaffa tape still stuck to his boot, saying "Zed's dead, baby". Oh, and their pal Danielle, who has weird Cheetarah tattoos on her chest and burlesques on the side.

Of course, I'm not always in the mood for negotiating pickers. Every once in a while I just like to see alligators getting shot in the head. That's right, History has a programme about Louisiana alligator hunters. Essentially the format is: hick sets alligator fishing line, hick finds hooked gator, hick debates the size of the gator, hick shoots gator in the head at point-blank range. It's really top notch broadcasting.

It's not all so rural though. There's also the glamour of the historic city of Las Vegas. There was a battle there once... I think. It's also the home of World Famous Gold & Silver Pawn Shop and Rick Harrison's family pawn business. Generally, Pawn Stars is a show about members of the public bringing in Americana (like Abe Lincoln's gum shield), asking over the odds for it and then haggling with Rick; almost always meeting half way. Luckily, if that's a little too historic, Rick's 'old man' is a crank from North Carolina and is part of a cast also involving CM Punk lookalike and all round waster, Chumlee.
 
To borrow a quote my favourite film: "You've gotta put the past behind you before you can move on." Maybe this is society's way of forgetting what happened in the last couple of centuries. I just hope to God it's not what my children end up studying at school.

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The Boot Room

Whether it's a kid playing junior football or an old, beer-bellied dad still hanging onto his Sunday League dreams, boys will forever be excited about new football boots. Whether you like a flashy orange pair, or a more traditional and understated black, there's nothing like slipping on fresh-smelling leather before trying to re-enact your Premier League heroes on a battered old park green covered in used needles and dog muck.

Given that my trusty Adidas Questras (a thrifty £19 purchase deep into my student overdraft) have finally given up on me after four years' service, it's time for a new pair - which got me thinking about my favourite ever boots. Here are the candidates:

Nike R9

Now, I'm not talking about the sock-like R9's on offer these days. I mean the original R9s worn by 'fat Ronaldo' in his prime. These are probably the design origin of most of the flimsier boots worn in the Premier League these days and looked super slick with their 'wave' pattern. While Ronaldo was busy bagging for Brazil and Inter Milan in these, I was attempting to do the same in the Cub Scout football leagues.

Mizuno Wave Cup

Rivaldo's Mizuno Wave Cups are a really strong contender for my favourite boots ever. Though I've never owned a pair, they were the boots I always wanted as a young kid. Unfortunately, I only ever saw them for sale by postal order in the back of Match magazine (alongside the Harchester United shirt from Dream Team) and convincing your dad to buy boots out of a magazine is pretty difficult when your 10.

Nike Air Zoom Total 90

One of the early noughties' most popular boots, my overriding memory of this early version of the Total 90 is a marauding Mikael Silvestre... glamorous, I know. A 'flashy' choice in their time, I still own a pair in black and white that are in great condition despite good use. For longevity, these have to be on my list.

 Adidas Supernova

My last pair of grass boots, Adidas Supernovas were a great alternative to the mainstream dominance of the Predator. I can remember my teenage teammates turning up for the first game of each season with the newly-released Predator updates but these withstood the test of time and still look now.

Puma King Pro

 

Somewhat of a referee's boot these days, the Puma King Pro is one for the purist. I owned a pair of these whilst juggling playing both rugby and football at the weekends - posey boots aren't welcome on the rugby field. The traditional Puma embodies the phrase 'tough as old boots' and is a great all-rounder.

Adidas World Cup

Another boot out of the traditionalist's handbook, the Adidas World Cup/Copa Mundial has withstood the test of time since the 1982 World Cup to prove that you don't need all singing, all dancing boots to look good on the pitch. Classic and sophisticated, this is the 'gentleman' of football boots.

And The Winner Is...
None of the above. The Supernovas and Mizunos ran it close, but my all-time favourite boot is actually, unsurprisingly, my very first pair of boots (at least that I can remember). They were a very traditionally-designed pair of Umbros with the twist of being entirely gold. I owned my golden wonders long before I was even old enough to play competitive sport and used to run around on the sidelines in them while my dad watched my brothers play junior football. It's a shame nothing gold can stay.

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