The broadcaster, who is being treated for cancer, called it “the hardest decision” he’d ever made.
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The Chinese proverb “It can be difficult to find a black cat in a darkened room, especially when there is no black cat” is how Neil Griffiths – author and founder of The Republic of Consciousness Prize for Small Presses – describes the childhood depicted vividly in his memoir The Wrong Son. Griffiths’ last novel, 2017’s As A God Might Be, questioned the merits of religion, gaining props from then-Archbishop Of Canterbury Rowan Williams.
The Wrong Son kicks off smoothly – until a harrowing car crash, circa the early 1960s, which results in Griffiths’ father losing his wife, pregnant at the time, as well as his young son. Not long after, he meets a married woman who abandons her own husband and child to be with him. Two years later, this book’s author is born, and enters a family unit where all is far from peachy. Guilt and grief alike have taken a devastating hold and clouded emotions, resulting in a perfectionist mother and unfeeling father.
Griffiths manages to navigate and survive his childhood existence, but not without bearing psychological scars. What he does cleverly in The Wrong Son is draw up the findings of psychoanalysts D.W. Winnicott and Jaques Lacan, with the latter resonating with him more profoundly. (Lacan believed that one’s self is shaped by the emotional environment they were born into; conversely, some of Winnicott’s beliefs seem more questionable today.)
As a result, The Wrong Son is both highly engaging and educational. Think Charles Bukowski crossed with Nick Cave and an added dose of psychoanalysis and you will be close to what Griffiths has achieved here.
The reality TV star made the announcement on Instagram with a photo of her, Fury, their daughter Bambi and the new baby.
Flamboyance is something we all likely think we have a clear grasp on, but I’ll bet that when asked to actually put it into words, you, like me, would struggle. From the term’s first use in English in the relatively modern 1830s, originating from the flame-like architecture of Gothic European churches, to the lived practice of it, whether consciously or not, in both queer and straight culture, Jack Parlett’s Flamboyance: The Art Of Burning Brightly is part historical examination, part personal exploration, and part guide to living the life “of someone who knows exactly who they are.”
Parlett’s opening chapter title, ‘The Secret’, refers to both that hard-to-pin-down and equally hard to harness, for some, nature of flamboyance, as well as the author’s efforts in adolescence to hide the truth of his queer identity. His searing self-reflective honesty, especially about still being on a journey of self-acceptance, settles you into Flamboyance as less rigorous academia and more of a down-the-rabbit-hole adventure that you, the reader, are taking with Parlett – like a Doctor Who companion being led by the hand to an alien, but fabulous, planet.
Whether talking about Proust or David Beckham, the depth of his research is imaginatively scattershot and wonderfully evocative in its analysis, adorned with the personal insight of a well-travelled explorer who is still excited to learn more.
The two throughlines of the book that struck me were the fire/light metaphor inherent, across time and space, to every mode of flamboyance, and the constant tension between the outsider’s perception of flamboyance as artificial or performative and the insider’s use of it as the exact opposite: performative, yes, but in an effort to be as real as possible. The latter is only more fascinating in our current heightened age of digitally-enhanced artificiality, where authenticity feels more and more like a precious and endangered resource.
The former, meanwhile, is a striking way to paradoxically contain an elusive idea and keep it tied to its original meaning without dimming its fluidity, potency, or danger. “Flamboyance may be a kind of armour,” Parlett notes, “but it is not always protective.” To this day, living one’s ‘truth’ as brightly as possible still attracts both celebration and derision, sometimes from one’s own community, adding to the lively essentialism dancing across the pages of this work.
So, what is flamboyance? It’s perhaps Parlett’s summation of the genius of Abba that will stay with me if I’m searching for the words: “joy shadowed by melancholy, [a] combination of euphoria and yearning…” Or, for something visual, this recent video of Mariah Carey requiring an entire team of people to help her simply sit down. Queen shit.
CBS has since laid off a number of employees – more then 6% of its workforce – and shut down its storied radio division. After the latest season of 60 Minutes ended on 17 May, the network fired Tanya Simon, its executive producer, and longtime correspondents Sharyn Alfonsi and Cecilia Vega, and hired Bilton to lead the show.
The new instalment of God of War will star Kratos’ wife Laufey, but some fans have questioned the call.
The actor has revealed he turned down presenting Saturday Night Live out of fear of cue cards changing.
Nastassja Kinski, who appeared in the film when she was 13, said the film-maker “didn’t protect me”.
Matt Chorley says he “misremembered” a quote by the Reform leader, which was “a mistake on my part”.
The first night of June and Cardiff is drenched in summer rain and whipped by restless wind. However, arriving inside the Utilita Arena, beneath a waterfall of amber light cascading from the top of the stage, Dermot Kennedy’s Weight Of The Woods tour provides a beautiful comfort.
Our first shelter is given by opening act Amble, who return to a city that has become woven into their own story. Having reviewed the Irish trio’s Tramshed performance at the end of last year, it’s really exciting to watch them command a stage of this size. They delight with a set rich in harmony, heart and hints of what comes next, teasing new material from an upcoming album while further cementing their place as one of Ireland’s most compelling rising voices.
Emerging through the rays at the top of moss-covered rocky stairs, Dermot Kennedy is met with a triumphant roar, earned by his reputation. Here is an artist whose journey has always felt honest. Throughout the show he reflects on the push and pull of his busking years, on the uncertainty that surrounded his earliest releases, and on the quiet hope that carried them into the world.
“I had this song that I was proud of and put it out there with zero expectation,” he tells us. For a while, he continues, nobody listened – until they did. Now, thousands sing the words back to him at the top of their lungs.
While Kennedy’s voice remains unmistakable, the brilliance of the band behind him deserves equal praise. The violin, in particular, becomes a second narrator throughout the evening. Lifting songs to their true live potential, transforming them into something even more emotional, cinematic and special.
An unmistakable Celtic spirit runs through Kennedy’s storytelling and it is clear from the audience that these songs have soundtracked defining moments in many lives. Moving to a smaller, crowd-central stage brings intimacy to five songs performed with magical calm and openness – peaking with a fan-led sea of green lights during Weight Of The Woods, transforming the arena into a glowing woodland.
Returning to the main stage for an energetic closing stretch of Better Days, Power Over Me and the devastating beauty of Funeral, there was an overwhelming sense of gratitude: from Kennedy, for this opportunity to share his purpose, and from the audience for the chance to bask in it.
Dermot Kennedy + Amble, Utilita Arena Cardiff, Mon 1 June
words and photos JOSEPH ELIJAH