Post Soviet Baltic reading: "With Dance Shoes in Siberian Snows" by Sandra Kalniete

I have professional dealings with Sandra Kalniete, though she does not (yet) know me personally. She is a Latvian Member of the European Parliament, and is a familiar name to most in the Parliament because of the constant stream of emails emanating from her office publicising exhibitions, films and other events focusing on Latvian history, usually its bleaker aspects. In my case, things are a little more specific, as I was one of a number of addressees of a letter from a group of MEPs, but coordinated by Mrs Kalniete, complaining that the small history section of the Parliament's visitor centre, the Parlamentarium, for which I am responsible, places almost exclusive emphasis on Nazi atrocities in World War II, with scant mention of those committed by the Stalinist regime of the Soviet Union. (As so often, the holocaust and Auschwitz are cited as the lowest point of human history from which Europe had to recover in the post-war period.)

This complaint is indeed is a relatively common one of Members from Central and Eastern Europe, and in particular from the Baltic States, against what they see as a cultural and historical bias towards a Western European narrative of history requiring correction, or at least balance.

Tricksy reading: "Sweet Tooth" by Ian McEwan

Ian McEwan, literary superstar. The astonishingly good Atonement and On Chesil Beach made it impossible not to buy and read his next book, Solar, which, though for me not so good, did not dilute the effect, which thus made Sweet Tooth a compulsory purchase. As with all the books mentioned above from the "second phase" McEwan (the first phase being rather more gothic), Sweet Tooth is deeply rooted in middle class Englishness, this time set, in what he has himself described as autobiographical style, in the late sixties and early seventies. 

Reformation reading: "Wolf Hall" by Hilary Mantel

In the last post, about a Pakistani interloper, I made mention of a "hefty historical novel" on which I was embarked and which the subcontinental tale briefly interrupted. So I now reveal that Wolf Hall was the novel in question, and its heftiness 674 pages in my paperback edition. 

This book earned Hilary Mantel her first Booker Prize (with, extraordinarily, the sequel, Bring Up the Bodies, winning her second), so it's good. I'm not being ironic, it is good. Mantel pulls off a totally immersive and page-turning evocation of an era made spuriously familiar to my generation by Ladybird history books and a privileged place in the nationalistic school curriculum of my youth, latterly much sighed over by educational and political conservatives.  Mantel's version of Tudor politics and history is of course much more sophisticated and ambiguous than the official version I was brought up on. It should be; her research is ferociously detailed and her understanding of the period profound, even without that research being worn in any way on her sleeve. Just historically, this book seems to me a magnificent achievement.

Interposed reading: "How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia" by Mohsin Hamid

A cheeky interloper, this book. I am currently embarked on a hefty historical novel, which, though admirable, is not a quick read. So when, serendipitously, this book, of which I had read complimentary reviews, presented itself on a bookshelf in Perugia's Feltrinelli (where else?), I was easily tempted. Three days later it was read and I am back to my historical novel.

Insubordinate reading: "Tribes" by Seth Godin

What do you get when a famous blogger and New York guru writes a book? Short sentences is what. Short paragraphs too. Lots of colons. Wisdom is best communicated through aphorism. Lots of them, indeed.

This is a short book and a quick read. It contains 147 pages. But, fear not, the pages are small, the margins generous and the print sizeable, while the paragraph breaks and subtitles are abundant. Seth Godin knows what he thinks and means what he says. Which is basically this: in the modern world success for individuals and organisations does not come from managing processes, it comes from leading tribes.

If you want to make a difference, if you want to get on, be a heretic and lead a tribe, says Godin. Here are three examples of how he says it:

Leadership isn't difficult, but you've been trained for years to avoid it. I want to help you realise that you already have all the skills you needs to make a huge difference, and I want to sell you on doing it. The best thing is that you don't need to wait until you've got exactly the right job or built the organisation or moved up three rungs on the corporate ladder. You can start right now. (p.13)

***

Crowds and Tribes

Two different things:
A crowd is a tribe without a leader.
A crowd is a tribe without communication.
Most organisations spend their time marketing to the crowd. Smart organisations assemble the tribe.
Crowds are interesting, and they can create all sorts of worthwhile artifacts and market effects. But tribes are longer lasting and more effective. (p.30)

***

The Look of the Leader

What does a leader look like?
I've met leaders all over the world, on several continents, and in every profession. I've met young leaders and old ones, leaders with big tribes and tiny ones.
I can tell you this: leaders have nothing in common.
They don't share gender or income level or geography. There's no gene, no schooling, no parentage, no profession. In other words, leaders aren't born. I'm sure of it.
Actually, they do have one thing in common. Every tribe leader I've ever met shares one thing: the decision to lead. (p.145)

Do you see how that could get a bit tiring after 147 pages?

It's just as well he's basically right, otherwise it would also be deeply irritating. As it is, it is both mildly irritating and mildly illuminating. At moments, it was even mildly inspiring. He is right. At least I think so. But this is one of those cases where a blog post has been stretched to book length. A nice idea, and some good illustrative anecdotes, do not really need 147 pages to be related. Frankly, after a while, you've just had enough, you've got it and you start to get nit-pickingly fussy about paragraph length and sentence construction. Which is a shame, because I enjoyed reading this book - I even enjoyed being irritated by it - and this review is coming out more negative than I feel.

But I still have a slight block when it comes to forms of thinking for which the subordinate clause is off-limits.  Could it be that more complex grammar reveals doubt? Nuance? Lack of Authority? Ambiguity? Sometimes you just want Mr Godin to be a heretic himself and write a long sentence... Go on, dare you.

Recommendation: worth reading, probably. But I suspect not much more than the blog. www.sethgodin.com, by the way.