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pnjman : 1992   24

Low Hum & Little Lo | Martin Amis
Humbert Humbert, narrator of 'Lolita', is a sadist, narcissist and sexual deviant: so why should we think Nabokov's novel morally acceptable?
25th  october  1992  independent  martin  amis  vladamir  nabokov  literature  lolita 
6 weeks ago by pnjman
What About Rushdie? | Paul Theroux
When the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini first issued his decree against Salman Rushdie three years ago tomorrow, I swear I thought it was a joke -- a very bad joke, a bit like "Papa Doc" Duvalier putting a voodoo curse on Graham Greene for writing "The Comedians," but a joke nevertheless, in the sense of being an example of furious but harmless flatulence -- just wind.
13th  february  1992  paul  theroux  nyt  salman  rushdie  literature 
august 2016 by pnjman
Too casual and two polished | Jonathan Meades
Every Sunday, Hampstead turns into the resort it always used to be, thronged with people doing what people do at resorts: promenade, shop, lick ice-creams, shop, lout about, shop, spoon, shop. They also eat; they eat as they shop at places carefully tailored to fashion-conscious day-tourists rather than to locals. They are getting a McDonald's soon, too, and there is already a Haagen-Dazs bringing a whiff of denimed petting ("Eat Haagen-Dazs and Get Laid").
22nd  august  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
february 2013 by pnjman
Biting back the wares and tears | Jonathan Meades
The establishments reviewed in this space week in, week out, prompt a gamut of reactions whose poles are near-adoration and near-contempt. In the middle there is a subfusc plateau of qualified enjoyment, mitigated ennui and so on. These are, necessarily, commonplace. I can't remember the last time, if there was such a time, that my predominant feeling about a place was that of embarrassed sympathy.
1st  august  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
january 2013 by pnjman
Third class eats on the oriental line | Jonathan Meades
Following last week's world-record spend at The Waterside Inn Pounds 103 per head should you require an indecent reminder I had thought to demonstrate that it is possible to eat grandly for a tenth of that sum. The first stop was so off-putting that my resolve went for a burton. The project got amended to cheapish. Oh dear. And after the third, I am inclined to the prodigal view that Pounds 206 in the pocket of Michel Roux gets you far, far more than three times the quality you buy with Pounds 76 chez Messrs Zen, especially when you consider that at the latter we ate only two courses and drank only one half-bottle of wine.
25th  july  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
january 2013 by pnjman
Haute coutured cuisine | Jonathan Meades
Michel Roux is the smoozair brozzair. While Albert looks like the kind of chap whose youth might have been spent strangling then eviscerating rabbits for the pot, Michel's appearance suggests that he is less a son of the soil: maybe he was a bit of a small-town dragueur; perhaps he owned a Renault Dauphine with two-tone tyres. He certainly has Cointreau ad cred.
18th  july  1992  time  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
january 2013 by pnjman
Catering for a secretive society | Jonathan Meades
Discretion, reticence, the illusion of being almost clublike these are qualities that the English are supposed to value, and thus are qualities that a certain level of restaurant does well to foster. A low-key frontage is desirable; even better is no frontage at all. Frontage, and front, are for McDonald's, which uses the devices and imagery of petrol stations. This raises the question of which tastes better: a Happy Meal with cheeseburger or a litre of unleaded? Instead of screeching plastic, let word of mouth (or a column such as this) be the means by which an establishment's presence is conned by the general.
11th  july  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
january 2013 by pnjman
A slick clean-up in the officers' mess | Jonathan Meades
Cheltenham is more beautiful today than it was when it was still the town of retired soldiers and officers of the colonial service. Then, in the Fifties and early Sixties, it was dowdy, distinctly run- down. Terrace after square after parade was characterised by peeling stucco, crumbling stone, rusting wrought iron. Whatever virtues they are that retired soldiers possess, respect for the integrity of buildings is not among them. Elegant houses were rendered gauche by inept amendments and inapt fenestration. An entire terrace in Suffolk Square was marred by some bright spark having cut through a pediment to insert an ad-hoc dormer window. That particular act of casual vandalism has now, typically, been repaired. The place is blooming. It has regained the resort air that it must have manifested during the years of its exponential growth and the period of its fashion, before evangelism and the military took over. Houses which had been let go gleam once again. It is a captivating town.
4th  july  1992  jonathan  meades  times  restaurant  review 
january 2013 by pnjman
Chefs capped for England | Jonathan Meades
Mutton broth, cod with parsley sauce, pea and ham soup. Not so long ago such humble and substantial dishes would, if found in London restaurants, have proclaimed their humbleness through the sloppiness of their execution and have emphasised their substance by mistaking that quality for heaviness.
27th  june  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
december 2012 by pnjman
Bordering on the common | Jonathan Meades
In the five and a half years since he opened Harvey's opposite a mugger-rich common in south London, Marco Pierre White has become a fully fledged mini-celebrity.
20th  june  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
december 2012 by pnjman
Drawn by northern lights | Jonathan Meades
France is also fog, mines, flatlands, back to backs, beer. It is, too, a site of mass death, and that may be why the British race through the north, chasing the sun, forgetting that 75 years ago France meant mud, shrapnel and flu in the way that it now vulgarly means wine, garlic and the sweetness of life.
6th  june  1992  jonathan  meades  france  food  restaurant  review  times 
december 2012 by pnjman
Dining al fumo is no fun | Jonathan Meades
Every evening, the whole of Soho assembles on Frith Street's pavements and inhales petrol fumes in order to overcome the nastiness of the cleverly marketed lagers that are de rigueur in this manor.
30th  may  1992  jonathan  meades  times  restaurant  review 
december 2012 by pnjman
Chic revival in Chelsea | Jonathan Meades
A King's Road restaurant catering to well-heeled residents, not down-at-heel tourists.
jonathan  meades  times  restaurant  review  23rd  may  1992 
november 2012 by pnjman
Getting well-oiled in Soho | Jonathan Meades
At the time of writing, dell'Ugo is the newest restaurant in Soho, testimony to the enduring appeal, to restaurateurs, of the foreign name.
9th  may  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review  anthony  worrall  thompson 
november 2012 by pnjman
Ale fellows well met | Jonathan Meades
How does a Belgian tie his shoelaces? The answer is a sight-gag which I shan't spoil by describing: it cannot be verbally conveyed. You must ask someone Dutch or someone French to show you. And that is the point.
18th  april  1992  jonathan  meades  times  restaurant  review 
november 2012 by pnjman
Throwing two hats in the Bull ring | Jonathan Meades
St John Street runs through the heart of Clerkenwell, in central London. At its northern end in Sekforde Street are a chaste, classical, early Victorian commercial building and a most unusual terrace of slightly earlier cottages which appear to have been massively inflated, to the point where the habitual proportions of the late Georgian terrace are quite lost.
2nd  may  1992  times  jonathan  meades  restaurant  review 
november 2012 by pnjman
Good pickings along the Bush trail | Jonathan Meades
Is it something in the water at Shepherds Bush? Is the place a covert well Shepherds Bath is not actually as risible as it might sound. At the height of the fashion for watering places there were schemes for resorts at such suburbs as Upper Norwood and Surbiton. The proposed Beulah Spa at Norwood would have been as grand as Buxton. But why spa? Why did that small town in the Ardennes become an eponym? Was it that a foreign suffix was reckoned to lend an exoticism not conveyed by wells or bath? No doubt. And in the promotion of pleasure enterprises the same practice continues today, as we shall see.
25th  april  1992  times  jonathan  meades  review  restaurant 
november 2012 by pnjman
These Glittering Prizes | Christopher Hitchens
The season of award-bestowing is upon us. From the Pulitzer to the Booker to the Jeff, the swelling ranks of literary honors are putting a cheap price on immortality.
december  1992  christopher  hitchens  vanity  fair  literature 
september 2012 by pnjman
A Question of Size | Jared Diamond
Bigger is better, right? So why in the world have Pygmies opted for smallness?
1st  may  1992  discover  jared  diamond  anthropology 
july 2012 by pnjman
The Best Red Phone Booth in Britain | Bill Bryson
I live in a tiny village in that green and snug part of northern England called the Yorkshire Dales. It’s a pretty village, in a quiet and unassuming sort of way. It has a pub, a 500-year-old church, a clutch of stone cottages mostly dating from the 1600s, a bridge over a stream, a bench thoughtfully provided for anyone who passes, not that anyone much does, and that’s about it.
september  1992  traditional  home  bill  bryson  uk  anglophile 
july 2012 by pnjman
The Arrow of Disease | Jared Diamond
When Columbus and his successors invaded the Americas, the most potent weapon they carried was their germs. But why didn't deadly disease flow in the other direction, from the New World to the Old?
discover  jared  diamond  1st  october  1992  disease  history 
july 2012 by pnjman

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