Overheard on Friday night, in Westminster…
In a certain light, a lot of the indignation over the arts looks staged. I know that’s not true, but it is REALLY easy to see how the conspiracy theorists are earning crusts during the Pandemic. It won’t be enough either. It never will be enough to undo the destruction wrought during austerity. However, the arts will endure, because of exactly the reason government seems not to give a flying fuck.
In another world, there are better solutions to these problems.
Publishing is a bombsite right now: nobody is covering themselves in any glory amongst the major players. Yesterday, She Whose Name is Not Spoken decided to yet again try to explain her position as being tenable. She failed spectacularly, and I’ve lost patience with people who think it’s okay to still like her and what she does. Sorry, but that’s your lot.
Then this morning, a guy who has done blackface in living memory won’t lose his publishing contract either, but at least people are now prepared to stand up and state how fucking awful his kids books are, because they are. In both cases, publishers have said and done nothing. Why would they? These people make them squillions of pounds.
That’s part of the problem.
However, it is possible to embrace your shortcomings and move forward. L-MM is a case in point, and as the discourse over Hamilton continues to rumble on, we are all wise to start reassessing the choices made when younger in a more current light. A lot has changed in a short period of time. Some creatives are prepared to accept their shortcomings. Others are digging in their heels. I know who I think looks better at distance.
Objectivity is a big ask for those who were never flexible to begin with.