Dare I say it: Anthony Geffen is a man who cannot be pigeonholed. A man best known for his professional partnership with living legend David Attenborough, he has worked on over 11 critically acclaimed films, from the fascinating Rise of the Animals: Triumph of the Vertebrates to the stunning Great Barrier Reef. But this is only the tip of the iceberg for Geffen who, since proving himself as a remarkable natural documentarian, has been involved in a range of incredibly diverse projects.
Perhaps then, a good starting point would not be Attenborough, but rather Geffen’s continued innovations in cinematic storytelling in the form of virtual reality (VR) filmmaking. This medium of film is currently evolving way beyond the realms of gaming, but is, as Geffen’s work exemplifies, making waves in the film industry itself. This year’s Cannes’ Film Festival has confirmed a full VR line-up, including screenings and workshops. Popular franchises are also seeing the benefits of the up and coming mode, with Ghostbusters and Wonderland both experimenting with VR. Geffen’s passion for VR was striking and he chatted at length about the many possibilities VR filmmaking holds for the future of the cinematic experience. For Geffen, it creates “an environment where you can immerse people in a 360-degree environment”, the results of which he can describe as nothing less than “amazing”.
In June of last year, Geffen, and a team of professionals, achieved this on a grand scale. The Natural History Museum metamorphosed into ancient oceans, where visitors had the chance to travel through time and space, observing sea creatures over 550 million years old – all through VR film.
However, he is not interested in restricting VR to nature documentaries, or documentaries of any kind for that matter. “To me, as a storyteller,” begins Geffen, “I want to look at different platforms and different ways to tell stories.” This idea is a real game changer: imagine being able to go one step beyond simply watching your favourite films? Or even that TV series you’re addicted to? “I want to make some episodic things [with VR] including some dramas, because to me if you’re in that world for something like ten minutes, you’ll come back and see what happened to that set of characters and that situation.” But Geffen isn’t talking about Netflix here. He says, “It’s fantastic, why compete?” He states that he would instead prefer to “go to a different area and compete.” Watch this space.
Geffen’s ambition was inspiring and I wondered whether he thought his passion project would leave a lasting mark. I asked him about where VR would be by 2050 and he predicted, with upmost certainty, that it “will be commonplace way before then.” He even went as far as to say, rather poetically, that “I think they’ll be ways of us seeing the world around us on a contact lens.” After this interview was conducted and I undertook further research into the VR mode of filmmaking, I find myself struggling to disagree. This is an exciting time for film, and it’s only going to get better.
It was becoming clear that Geffen was interested film and its various mechanisms. I was interested in what ignited this fire in his belly. “I grew up in a generation where people were making very exciting things on television,” Geffen begins, “like Attenborough [who] was making the first bursts on screen of his big series.” Whilst we millenials may take TV entertainment as a commodity, having access to award winning international shows on almost every device, in the back end of the 20th century this concept was revolutionary, possessing the ability to transport viewers to exotic places from the comfort of their own living room. There is certainly some correlation here between Geffen’s TV generation and his love of VR. A small TV box set with four channels was equivalent to the new digital software the likes of Geffen are creating and innovating. It was new to the senses, offering different, immersive experiences, much like VR in 2016.
After lauding the brilliance and importance of television, I probed him on the BBC’s charter renewal. This is set to threaten programming, specifically the commissioning of the sort of nature documentaries that Geffen has been involved in for years. He highlights the shifting landscape of the broadcasting environment, one that is, to quote Geffen, “changing beyond all recognition.” He admits that the “BBC is going to have to get smaller… it’s run by 16,000 people which is a very big number to finance with public money.” Yet he remains incredibly loyal to the institution, believing that “it embodies… independence and creativity”. He continues by saying “it’s very important that the BBC is supported because it’s sort of a cornerstone we all work toward in the industry and if we took it away, it would actually dismantle what’s good about British broadcasting.”
For Geffen, the primary purpose of broadcasting film, of any kind, is storytelling. And the conversation naturally veered back to his preoccupation with film as a vehicle for human narrative. He emphasises “forget all the special effects and all the whizz bang – to have personal stories crafted in a way that they can translate a powerful story, is still more powerful than anything else.” For him, it is clear that film and narrative are intrinsically linked, and that that aspect of cinema should be central to the cinematic experience – be it on the big screen, television or VR.
This has shone through most of his film projects, which have covered a broad range of subject matter and genre, almost all keeping story telling at the forefront. In 2010, Geffen directed The Wildest Dream, a biopic documenting the attempt of two mountaineers to reach the summit of Mount Everest, presented in the form of a theatrical retelling.
Historical events also pique Geffen’s interest, with a string of critically acclaimed films such as Jerusalem: City of Heaven and Empires: Holy Warriors – Richard the Lionheart and Saladin. And of course: his projects with Attenborough (wildlife also offers some enthralling story lines). But which was his favourite to film, produce or direct? “Oral histories,” Geffen answers with little hesitation, and continues by briefly discussing some of his own that he is particularly proud of, mentioning The Promised Land and a new project focussing on the Holocaust. “Oral histories have been around since Troy,” Geffen continues, “We have always been recorders of human narrative.”
Working for over a period of 20 years with Attenborough, Geffen has won countless awards for his contribution and innovation of the genre. “Attenborough and I decided to do some natural history documentaries and for seven years I’ve come in at it at a slightly different angle. We’ve tried to bring a different narrative and bring things back to life.” A striking example of this would be Penguins (2012) which was screened in 3D, yet another example of how Geffen experiments with various film mediums to create a truly unique journey for the viewer as they navigate their way through wildlife.
“I think we’ve tried to do the unexpected in the natural world.” Nevertheless, Geffen expressed humility when he confesses that he “only really came to it because of [his] relationship with David Attenborough.” And long may the love continue.
Profile: Anthony Geffen
Why I’m a … Muslim
In some ways, as a Muslim in Oxford one might feel a bit out-of-place. In a student community that (for the most part) adheres to its self-proclaimed slogan ‘Work Hard, Play Hard’, it is hard to swim against the tide and maintain the conviction, for example, that not all forms of ‘play’ and ‘fun’ are created equal. Despite the university’s focus on rational thought and independent enquiry, and our common self-perception that we are amongst the brightest and most intelligent young people, it is surprising how few of us employ their rational capacity not only in the context of academia, but also as part of their private life. After all, education is not just about gaining technical skills and knowledge, but (arguably more importantly) about developing as an individual, building one’s character, and forming a vision of how one can use one’s abilities to improve the world.
In other ways, as a Muslim in Oxford one might be more inclined than others to truly appreciate the possibilities that this place has to offer. When learning about the world and sharpening one’s mind becomes a comprehensive experience that is not restricted to writing essays and passing exams, then an Oxford education not only boosts one’s career prospects, but above all creates reflective, responsible and wise individuals.
If intelligence and rationality are used as tools not only for achieving good grades, but also for leading a ‘good’ life (in the normative sense), then it becomes a habit to make up one’s mind about what is beneficial (spreading good mood, volunteering, character development) and what is harmful (late-night partying, backbiting, wasting time), and then to act according to one’s newly-acquired convictions.
When I started to realise this, and began to reflect upon the way I study, behave, and live, I found myself changing my lifestyle – not primarily because the religion that I grew up with “told me that I must do X”, but simply because it became clear to me that adopting X will help me improve my character and live a balanced life. To the extent that I have managed to overcome social pressure and exercise self-discipline with regards to these matters and that I have been content and managed to deal much better with all the stress and difficulties of my hectic student life.
As a slightly trivial (but nonetheless relevant) example, take my sleep rhythm: Praying the first of five daily prayers before the sun rises practically forces one to go to bed early – but as a side-effect, one sleeps much better, is more productive during the early hours of the day, and potentially even witnesses the beauty of a misty sunrise on a Sunday morning in spring (speaking from experience here). Other examples include my increased propensity to donate charitably, care for the environment, and make an effort to deal with those around me in the best way I can.
Islam, for me, thus offers a way of life that appeals to human nature both on an emotional and rational basis, creates the preconditions for successful character development, and generally helps to get one’s priorities in life right. Once one has engaged oneself with it, it is easy to uncover the intellectual, spiritual, and social treasures that is has to offer. One will get mesmerized by the Qur’an, the deepness of its meanings, and the beauty of its recitation in Arabic (trust me, just check it out on YouTube). One will begin to feel intense love for the man who was the embodiment of its teachings, and whose mercy, humbleness, strength, and piety inspire humans around the world. One will understand that modern perversions of this religion are instances of human malignancy rather than examples of its backwardness and savagery.
But am I cherry-picking? Am I simply telling you all the great stuff while not mentioning the theory of evolution, the supposed irrationality of following scripture, the alleged patriarchy? In other words, am I buried in dogmatism and ideology? I have not devoted this article to rationality in the private sphere for no reason – the more I study and learn about Islam, the more I realise how baseless the accusations are which are commonly levelled against it, and how coherent a system of thought it is. Feel free to disagree on certain points, but don’t use this as a reason to categorically reject everything ‘Islamic’. Rather, approach it with an open mind and extract all that which, upon reflection, you deem beneficial for you. I did exactly that, and ended up as a believing, practicing Muslim.
*The author is a Muslim living in author who prefers to remain anonymous
Spotlight: Hip-Hop Histories
Rap is perhaps not the first medium that comes to mind when faced with the challenge of making centuries-old literature and history accessible to 21st century audiences, but the meteoric rise of Hamilton across the Atlantic and the Hip-Hop Shakespeare Company here in the UK prove that using the genre to that end is both possible and necessary.
Last week, the latter’s adaptation of Richard II, directed by BAFTA and MOBO Award-winning artist Akala, came to Oxford’s O2 Academy. In many respects, the update was effortless – Mowbray and Bolingbroke’s confrontation in the opening scenes lends itself perfectly to a rap battle, and the ways in which different figures communicated revealed something about their characters. Bolingbroke raps, as do other nobles involved in his rebellion; Richard himself insists on delivering his soliloquies straight as he clings to the divine right of kings, a concept that feels increasingly tenuous and outmoded as the show progresses.
The songs clarify the meaning behind the Bard’s often intimidating early modern language, but by choosing individual lines as their basis and then extrapolating from there, the production runs the risk of losing some of the nuances of the original story. This Richard, a decisive, deliberate tyrant, is a far cry from Shakespeare’s impulsive, ineffectual king, and the deposition scene is notably absent. As a work in its own right, however, it is a compelling one. And as Akala asserts, “It’s not about lowering quality – that’s patronising, young people see through that. It’s about demystifying Shakespeare.”
In this respect, THSC’s efforts are a great success. In emphasising the links between Shakespeare and modern hip-hop both rhythmically and thematically, Akala shows his audience that the greatest writer in the canon is intended for everyone, not just the academic elite. “Over 90 percent of Shakespeare’s audience couldn’t read or write,” he pointed out in a recent TEDx talk. “How is it, then, that in the 21st century, in Britain, he’s come to be viewed as almost a poster child for elitism?” Framing Shakespeare as analogous to contemporary artists gives hip-hop the credit it deserves as an art form and explodes the idea of the legendary playwright as belonging exclusively to any one demographic – and does so in an eminently entertaining way.
Web Series World – Convos with my 2-year-old
This week I shall cover another series I recently discovered on the ‘top ten web series’ video. It is a channel ingeniously named Convos with my two-year-old, which pretty much is exactly what it says on the tin, but with one integral twist; the two-year-old is played by a 6ft grown man. It makes for brilliant watching.
The whole idea of the series is to point out how weird and frankly stupid small children can be; as if there were previously any doubt. Given the fact that this is a re-enactment of actual conversations Matthew Clarke (the father) has had with his real life 2 year old (Coco Frances Harrison-Clarke), many lines of dialogue are surprisingly hilarious. Matthew Clarke stars as himself in the series and Coco is played by Matthew’s friend David Milchard. There are too many fabulous moments in this series really to point out, (and I have already learnt the hard way that many lines don’t work so well when you are trying to explain to your friends why this series is the best thing ever, without the withering facial expressions of David and Matthew.) But still I shall give it a go.
The first episode starts boldly, as the two year old takes an incredibly protective stance, guarding her mother from her father. It manages to highlight how wonderfully controlling young children try to be. The lines by themselves taken out of context seem like they are taken from a rather unhealthy relationship.
Coco: No, you can’t talk to her right now.
Dad: What?
Coco: You can’t talk to her right now, because I’m talking to her right now.
Then you remember that this is a 2-year-old speaking and it’s completely hilarious because she is so tiny. (Just realised that that is quite a scary dimension to human nature. Everything is adorable if it is small)
The series is particularly notable for several Eastender worthy confessions and plot twists. Notably the particularly monumental: ‘No, she’s not your wife. She’s the princess’ and ‘because I’m naked, I’m the boss’. Innocent questions such as: ‘can we get a cat after you die?’ are particularly inspiring in their unashamed bluntness. Honesty is prevalent throughout. This is found clearly in the confident declaration in the public bathroom in Season 5 of ‘well she shouldn’t have pooed in there’. The mother is also worth an honorable mention, often acting the voice of reason: ‘Coco, everybody poos.’ I think we can all relate.
Now having completed 5 seasons, convos with my 2 year old has slowly morphed into convos with my 5 year old, which is just as brilliant. The addition of a massive biker hunk of a man playing the 2 year old younger brother only adds to the fun.
If you were looking for some really light, short entertainment for finals, this series is for you. Just don’t blame me if you never look at small children the same way again.
Oxford research group to develop universal flu vaccine
An Oxford spinout company has received significant funding to develop a universal flu vaccine. The company, Vaccitech, was given more than £10 million in funding to develop the vaccine.
As it stands, no single vaccine can protect against every form of the flu with each season’s vaccine relying on complicated forecasting techniques to predict which strain will spread at that time. The savings in human life alone could prove worth it. Seasonal outbreaks kill as many as half-a-million people worldwide each year.
Early versions of the vaccine have been successful at the clinical stage. “Clinical trials of the universal vaccine here in Oxford have shown great promise,” said Professor Sarah Gilbert, who helps lead the effort. “The vaccine has proved safe and shown good clinical responses, including enhanced protection against flu detectable in older adults even one year after vaccination. It has performed well when given with the standard flu vaccine.”
Vaccitech has also begun developing a therapeutic cancer vaccine which will initially target prostate cancer.
Protests greet future King
Prince William was not only greeted by excited students and fans of the royal family at the Blavatnik School of Government. After the prince’s official opening of Magdalen’s Longwall library this Wednesday, former Oxford student and Glasgow lecturer on Russian culture Martin Dewhirst held a picket outside the School building.
The protest was aimed at the University accepting Leonard Blavatnik’s donations, which helped build the School, as the origin of the Russian businessman’s fortune is controversial.
Dewhirst carried a sign which read “due diligence or undue negligence?” and was accompanied by a few other protestors in the inconstant weather.
On top of William’s visit, a conference on world-wide corruption held by David Cameron on the next day motivated Dewhirst to protest. “I wanted to do my bit in Oxford today to in-
crease the chances that Russia will get more public attention,” he said.
“Mr. Blavatnik has been accused of being corrupt, but not much of the evidence is available in English. I don’t understand why the University didn’t invite Transparency International and Global Witness to do some research on Mr. Blavatnik’s activities. I was able to express my concern on this point to quite a number of people in Oxford today – this made the trip worth while.”
Talking to Cherwell after staff from the Blavatnik School of Government refused to accept his photo being taken in front of the new glass building, he said, “Maybe the attempt to control us was a sign of worry, if not fear?”
Oxford graduate and founder of the Moscow alumni society Ilya Zaslavskiy, who has been protesting against donations from Blavatnik and Saïd at Oxford, held a picket in front of the Oxford North America Society Office in New York at the same time as Dewhirst was outside the Blavatnik School. Zaslavskiy had been asked to leave the premises of the Society after raising a sensitive question on April 11, and has launched a petition for the University to “review cooperation with Putin’s oligarchs”.
Its description states, “We believe it is high time to demand transparency and procedural reforms at Oxford with regards to foreign donations and awards that will be benefi cial to the University in the longer term and thus will open a cleaner chapter in broader UK-Russia relations.”
Mr Dewhirst is a signatory of Zaslavskiy’s petition, and told Cherwell, “I spoke several times today about the scandal at the LSE five years ago when its Director, an honourable man, felt he had to resign because he had accepted money for the School from the Libyan Gaddafi Foundation.
“I was not, of course, comparing Mr. Blavatnik to any member of the Gaddafi family, but providing an example of how dangerous it can be to have any dealings with people who are regarded by some experts as morally suspect.”
Commenting on Mr Dewhirst’s remarks about University due diligence processes, the University told Cherwell, “Oxford University has a thorough and robust scrutiny process in place with regard to philanthropic giving. The University is confident in this and in its outcomes.”
Prince William visits Oxford
Returning to Oxford after his last visit in 2014 for the official opening of the Dickson Poon China Centre at Hugh’s, HRH Prince William came to open Magdalen’s newly-refurbished Longwall library today.
The Duke of Cambridge also stopped at the Weston Library on Broad Street, finishing his tour in the recently constructed Blavatnik School of Government where he was met by a group of fans as well as some protestors led by Martin Dewhirst.
Longwall library had originally been opened by prince William’s great uncle Edward VIII, and cost the college £10.5 million to renovate, a price which became the source of one of the prince’s many jokes on his way across Oxford.
Prince William greeted a small group of students who had helped raise funds for the library at his various stops, and told one of them he was “allergic to Chemistry” as he commented on student life and recalled his own.
Mostly described as a pleasant, cheerful person by those who met him in Oxford, the Duke of Cambridge’s visit also triggered more hostile reactions, in particular on his arrival at the Blavatnik School of Government behind Somerville college.
While some students had criticised the British Royal family earlier this week, Martin Dewhirst, an Oxford and LSE alumnus who gave lectures on Russian culture at Glasgow, led a group of protestors outside the modern glass building at 11am, holding a sign
which read, “due diligence or undue negligence?”
This protest was aimed at the main donor for the funding of the School of Government, Blavatnik, whose fortune and integrity have been questioned in the past. A picket was simultaneously being held by Ilya Zaslavsky in New York, and Dewhirst warned the staff of the School that “less civilised protests” were on their way.
Recipe: Homemade Pizza
Making your own pizza dough can seem daunting, but it’s actually so simple and quick – a perfect weekend dinner.
Ingredients:
300g strong white bread flour 1tsp salt
1tsp instant yeast
1tsp olive oil
200ml water
Jar of passata (classic tomato or tomato with mixed herbs)
Mozzarella
Prosciutto
Fresh basil
Method:
1. Mix the salt, yeast and flour in a bowl. Heat the water over the hob until it’s warm, not steaming.
2. Make a well in the dry ingredients and pour the water in, adding the olive oil. Move around the bowl with a spoon (or your hands) until you have a dough.
3. At this point, you can either cover the dough with a tea towel to let it rise and then make a pizza shape, or skip the rising stage – if do you let it rise, it’ll be a thicker pizza in the end.
4. Cover the dough in passata with a spoon, leaving a little space around the edge.
5. Cut up the mozzarella into slices (this is easiest to do with scissors) and place on top of the passata.
6. Cut the prosciutto into strips and add to the pizza.
7. Cook in an oven at 240C/Gas 8 for around 10 minutes.
8. Take the pizza out, add some fresh basil and enjoy!
Of course the best thing about making your own pizza is the flexibility it offers! Switch out the prosciutto with some sweet peppers, red onion and spinach for a delicious vegetarian pizza.
What’s going on in Abu Dhabi?
Saadiyat Island, Abu Dhabi, is under construction. Not the sort of construction that looks like it has any sort of concern for the future, or any normal planning permission processes; but the kind of frontier mentality that dictates that as there’s a vast open desert, nice beaches and fuck loads of money to finance it, growth must be endless. In short, it is receiving a makeover not too dissimilar to those visited upon the faces of much of Abu Dhabi’s clientele. No long term plan, no sustainability: just plain mindlessness.
Instead of trying to create a long term basis for tourism and development, or indeed any genuine cultural apparatus with which to do so, Abu Dhabi developers have quite literally paid for the names of foreign art galleries to give the illusion of cultural involvement. In a few years (once the cranes and imported and undocumented work forces have left), you too can visit The Saadiyat Louvre; or indeed the Saadiyat Guggenheim! How on earth these places were persuaded to give their names away is beyond me (oil money, you say? No, surely these fine art institutions have more dignity than to be bought off).
Departing Saadiyat Island to head to the main city of Abu Dhabi, one must cross the Sheikh Khalifa Bridge, a six-lane highway with nobody on it. In its desire to imitate the ethos of American excess to the extreme, half of this unusual landscape is covered in tarmac. Indeed, the extent to which the locals appear to admire ‘The American Way’ is evident in the rather bizarre apparition of men in the local, timeless apparel driving Ford Mustangs and enormous 4x4s while blaring out a strange blend of Arabic music with American pop and hip hop. No originality, no culture: just plain mindlessness.
I headed first to the Marina. Symbolically the clouds came over such that when I arrived, the place was disturbingly akin to a seaside town in the North of England. A muddy orange mall, a concreted promenade, a ferris wheel which already looked sad in its rusting emptiness – yes, I could have been in the North (although the North at least has the advantage of not being so oppressively humid).
I then walked down another six-lane highway towards the main centre of the city, via the Emirates Palace, the impressive luxury hotel. The lagoon on which Abu Dhabi sits is undeniably beautiful; turquoise waters lined by golden beaches. Looming in the distance are the great towers of Abu Dhabi, including the three slightly curved glass masterpieces that are the Etihad Towers. The Emirates Palace itself is a testament to the state’s grandeur and wealth; acres and acres of verdant greenery and tropical flowers stretching all around the centerpiece of the huge palatial hotel.
Something about it, however, is amiss. It doesn’t take long to realise what that is: this is a palace which imitates the older styles of other Arab states. Yet this is not an old country. Indeed, in 1950, the region was incredibly poor and barely even irrigated. So it seems strange – disingenuous – to see an old-style palace here. It’s almost like a model city, really, rather than one with an individual style of its own. No history, no future.
As you pass the corner from the palace into the centre of Abu Dhabi, a giant poster looms overhead. A waving sheikh is the image, and the message says, “OUR FATHER ZAYED. UAE.” I subsequently noticed that this poster was just one of many. In Abu Dhabi, Sheikh Zayed constantly looms overhead, like Il-fucking-Duce. Even granted the status of Sheikh Zayed in the country’s history (pushing for the formation of the UAE, leading Abu Dhabi into prosperity, etc.) it seems more than a little presumptuous for him to proclaim the status of a deity. Who art in heaven, indeed. After all, the successes of his reign come down to his luck of digging a hole in his back garden and happening upon a tenth of the world’s oil supply. That doesn’t make him a deity or even a Duce, just one hell of a lucky guy.
I then wandered around the city centre and found absolutely nothing. It was just a continuation – all glass frontispieces with nothing behind them. The Etihad Towers which stood magnificent and curved, visible all the way from Saadiyat Island, were just offices with a viewing deck at the top. I walked away from here to see the new Presidential Palace. The old one, apparently, was insufficient (it only looked twice the size of the Winter Palace, after all) and so a new one, white with gold tips at the domes, was being built round the corner. The whole area was deserted for miles around. If we Brits feel morally wronged by the tax evasion of Cameron, we can at least be thankful that we’re not being run by a self-indulgent President and a dictatorial god-like King.
With sweat pouring off my face, fed up of seeing nothing of any value – of seeing mindless expenditure; mindless construction; mindless dearth of culture; mindless governance; mindless cars, highways and towers – I felt myself a little mindless, head pounding with dehydration. Time to head back to the hotel and give up Abu Dhabi as a bad mistake.
Review: the End of the Affair
Greene, concerning the nature of his belief, once remarked, “I fear I am a Protestant in the bosom of the Church.” His statement outlines the kind of crises which make this book, which he wrote in the midst of the climax of an episode of infidelity, truly one of the most compelling love stories he has produced: a fable haunted by his unease, his confused understanding of belief, and his desire for the security of a loving God.
Of course, these are all quite substantial themes for just a casual read, but this is where The End of the Affair comes into its own: it is not a difficult piece of fiction. The manner in which he crafts his sentences is unadorned, nothing is overwritten. The driving force behind the piece is really the emotional complexities of the protagonist, into whose inner monologue we are immediately thrust. I’d like to think Greene’s concise writing style was crafted during his time working at Cherwell, but who knows.
His character-cum-fulcrum, the aging, increasingly misanthropic ‘popular novelist’, Maurice Bendrix, is an obvious mirror of Greene himself. Self-obsessed, lonely, with deeply distressing opinions on other people’s intelligence, Oxford students should easily relate. He is also, like so many, rampantly non-believing. I doubt that even the Christian Union would be able to get him to listen. However, this novel, which fits into Greene’s tetralogy of overtly ‘Catholic’ novels, is all about conversions (I’m not going to ruin it for you, but everything doesn’t go according to Bendrix’s scheme). Part of me found this ob- session with bringing ‘the divine’ into almost every page, subtly or otherwise, just a little suffocating.
Indeed, the most compelling part of the work is not the presence of God – because, frankly, it’s a little boring – but the very worldly interaction between Bendrix and his lover, the wife of an insipid civil servant. Because we know how far this book is autobiographical – the dedication is ‘For C’ (Lady Catherine Walston, the wife of, you guessed it, a prominent civil servant) – the book is lent a kind of real-world poignancy that is both arresting and deeply disturbing.
Unlike his other works, like The Power and the Glory, or Brighton Rock, in The End of the Affair, we both understand and sympathise with the humanising, normal portrayal of a man torn between love and morality. However, precisely because he is so normal, this protagonist does not grip in the way that, say, Pinkie or Scobie does. There was no point in the novel where I felt the kind of dual loathing and appreciation which I expect in my understanding of Greene’s protagonists. This is, as I said at the start, a simple book. It is a very good love story, and demands little of the reader – but that, sadly, is all.