The last time I cried at the cinema was when Louis Armstrong welled up on the soundtrack of Good Morning, Vietnam, singing ‘What A Wonderful World’ in that black croon-drawl of his as scores of raw American recruits, poor boys all, trundled past the camera on their way to faraway deaths. It was a devastating pincer movement. On the one hand, Vietnam, which, for reasons too various to enter into here, always produces strong emotions; on the other, old Satchmo himself, the most loveable and, yes, the greatest musical entertainer of this or any other age. Just as he stole the picture in High Society from the likes of Bing Crosby, now he stole it from Robin Williams: only this time without even appearing on the screen.
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For #InternationalTranslationDay, a poem from @Lit_Review earlier in the year.
This 'jaunty narrative raises fundamental questions about the role of popular history. Should this just be a matter of telling tales, as the general public often seems to think?'
@DrLRoach weighs up Charles Spencer's account of the White Ship Disaster.
'Amis clearly belongs to the do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do school of pedagogy. More or less everything he says is demonstrably contradicted by elements of his own work, be they here or elsewhere.'