The last two days, what have I been up to?

Reading, mainly. It's divine. You never feel alone with a good book. Here's some of the things I'm working through:

>> Maurice by E.M. Forster. He's one of my favourite authors, because his books are so real. It's easy to forget there were emotions in the past; much more, it is easy to underestimate their frankness. Yes, in general they were not open about sex, violence, bad behavior. But not so their literature, and it always comes as a wonderful shock to me when a "classic" novel is less tame than I supposed. A modern novel, film, comic can go anywhere and do anything, which takes away the suprise value. Forster is one of those novelists who always catches me out this way, because I anticipate Edwardian literature to be stale. Rebecca is another example - when it came to confession time somewhere in the penultimate chapter I was deeply shocked. It's all about expectation.

So while I was well aware what Maurice was about, I'd assumed it would be fairly subtle. I came across the film when revising for the Period Drama module of Film Studies. Heritage Cinema has been criticised as conservative, trivial, irrelevant, not engaging with social problems. Now actually, all the Forster adaptations refute this by their witty and harsh, if subtle, criticism of English mores, but Maurice goes further by dealing with the joys of homosexuality in the 1910s. If that's not putting a story in its social context, I'm not sure what is. In any case, I want to watch the film now, so am reading the book first.

It's depressing me terribly - I have a weakness for nostalga novels, and I know the ending must be unhappy. You know the type - all memories of that perfect summer of youth, happiness, love and blossoms falling in the May, which somehow got lost. The protagonist ambles around, a middle aged, middle class mediocrity, feeling vague regrets and bitterly wondering where it all went wrong. Maurice is Brideshead Revisited with actual shagging.

But it's also shocking. Granted it was never published, but all the same I'd anticipated more longing looks and pastoral metaphors, and less "I love you". That came out of the blue for me as much as it did for Maurice. Didn't anticipate the Facts of Life being drawn with a stick in the sand, nor the frank atheism, nor: "You could call your cousin a shit if you liked, but not a eunich". I mean, this is the same E.M. Forster we're talking about?

Our hero has just lapsed about halfway through the book, I look forward to reaching the end which will inevitably be soul destroyingly miserable.

>> Marvel: 1602. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, get a copy of this comic book and do not budge until it's over. Do it now. I recommend it to everyone.

Despite becoming an increasingly large comic book fan, I've never read anything from Marvel.
This was actually a very conscious decision. If you've ever tried superhero books, you'll know that the continuity is appallingly convaluted. For me, that's part of the charm: I like the conciet that all the characters exist in the same world and can interact. It's still a problem for newcomers, however, so I did decide to pick on one company and ignore the other entirely. Hellblazer happened to be a Vertigo book, Vertigo is owned by DC - and I haven't read a Marvel comic since. It helped that my interest in their flagship characters, Hulk and Spider Man, was very low, and my interest in Batman huge. I stand by it as a strategy, but all good things must come to an end. Dammit, Gaiman.

Marvel 1602 is among the greatest things I've ever read, definitely better than Gotham by Gaslight. It places all the big Marvel superheroes in the context of Elizabethan England, and the results are beautiful. It's a joy to watch familiar characters reinterpreted, both visually and in story terms. Thematically, so many ideas overlap - take Magneto, a Holocaust survivor who sees humanity's rejection of mutants as inevitable, and his rival Xavier who believes they can coexist. In 1602, the mutants are seen as witches and that same dynamic exists, almost more impressively than in a modern setting. What is the role of Captain America, when America is a few pitiful colonies fighting back the Indians? Nick Fury, the secret agent, becomes Queen Elizabeth's spymaster; the scientists become Renaissance pseudoscientists. The Four from the Fantastick, it is noted by alchemists, actually correspond to the elements of earth, air, fire, water. Peter Parquagh spends the whole thing narrowly escaping a spider bite. And the joys go on and on, and this is from someone who probably missed half the allusions. It's a great story into the bargain, and I can't ignore Marvel as a company any longer. I need to go find the real Nick Fury!

This afternoon, I rewatched L.A. Confidential, one of my favourite films and potentially the greatest piece of cinema of all time, bar nothing. It's set in 50s, um, L.A. and surrounds three cops as they try to solve an immensely complex mystery mired in glamour, corruption and violence. It has it all: great music, great script, great dialogue, and a story so deep and layered that I still couldn't explain it to you after seven or eight viewings. But at it's heart, it's an actors movie - three great central performances. Good cop, bad cop - they're more like shades of grey. When I first saw the film - and that's a funny story in its own right. According to Cinecism, I was 14. All I know is that I was very young, it was the first 18 I'd ever seen, and I knew at once it was genius. Not sure how, because it goes some dark places, so I'm unsure how I even followed the plot. You do need to get an "ear" for crime cinema, to catch the slang and abuse, and at 14 the subtleties of "wop", "queer", "H", hell, probably even "hooker" must have passed me by. Which makes you wonder what I actually thought the film was about...

In any case, I loved it. Kevin Spacey became my favourite actor, and there are doodles of Jack Vincennes on my year 8 maths books. I was always a sucker for charming-but-angsty. Maybe it was in embryo responsible for my love of crime films full stop. On subsequent rewatches, I sympathised with Bud White more. Today, Ed had my full and undivided attention. Maybe it shows how my priorities have shifted, and I'm sure they'll shift again. I bought it on DVD especially for university, because I knew I would need to see it. It's a pity I remember the twists and character beats, if not the detail. Ah, terrific. If you are a fan of crime or clever cinema, or even good cinema, I implore you to watch it.

Final thought:

In case you thought I was joking about Torchwood prioritising character over plot to a criminal extent, compare the official press release for the three new novels:

Asylum by Anita Sullivan The story of a teen runaway called Freda who is brought to the attention of Torchwood by PC Andy. As Gwen, Jack and Ianto investigate where this troubled girl has come from, Andy finds himself drawn closer than ever before into the world of Torchwood.

Golden Age by James Goss Torchwood go to India to investigate the disappearance of hundreds of people. The trail leads them to an old colonial club which seems strangely stuck in the past as does its young and beautiful owner, the Duchess.

The Dead Line by Phil Ford A series of mysterious phone calls lead Jack into danger, and result in 'a very emotional moment for Ianto'.

Sorry, what's The Dead Line about? Oh, a thin excuse for angst and "character development"? It's only meaningful if it grows out of the story. That's why Boomtown and Journey's End failed at criticising the Doctor, because both villains made it clear their master plan was soley to make the Doctor angst. Don't they have something better, like world domination, to get on with? It works well in Warriors of the Deep, Planet of Fire, Last of the Timelords because the questions about the Doctor arise naturally from the narrative. Each tells a cracking story, which makes us then care when he is tested. Jesu, I'm gonna read that one. I'm gonna read it, then I'm gonna tear it apart.