Phil Baker (1) (1961–)

Sample sentence: "This was almost certainly the Norah Knott who had been secretary to the Reverend Harold Davidson, disgraced for his relations with prostitutes, who ended up as a circus performer and met his end being mauled by a lion." How can you not love this book and the amount of research that went into it after reading a sentence like that? This is a well-written book that takes us around the places Crowley lived in or frequented in London, some of which are still pretty intact and show more others whose names have changed but premises remain. Notably, there don't seem to be any blue plaques for the Beast. And for some of his opinions, mostly about women, Crowley certainly deserves the title. Though this isn't a book about Crowley per se, its chronological order does make it a bit of a biography and thus useful for those who may not want to delve much deeper. For me, as someone who loves walking around London, it just adds a little more to the flavor of each place. The author's closing (after page after page of footnotes) essay on Crowley's connection to the decadent 90s is also spot on. (I must echo the sentiment of a reviewer on Amazon, however, who wondered why the print is so small and the page margins so large.) show less

Although a little repetitive in places, this has to be the definitive collection of essays on Sax Rohmer (actually Arthur Henry Ward), creator of that fascinating cultural artefact Fu Manchu. With one or two caveats, the essays are to a very high standard of scholarship.

The authors might be regarded as part of an informal largely London-based salon of serious contemporary commentators on popular culture - Robert Irwin, Christopher Frayling, Clive Bloom, Alan Moore, Phil Baker, Kim Newman, show more Gary Baker. Mark Valentine and many more.

The question inevitably arises - is Sax Rohmer worth all this attention? He was essentially a second rate pulp writer with one very interesting cultural product in his curiously attractive oriental villain and that villain's erotically charged dusky daughter and slaves.

The answer is that he and his writings are largely of antiquarian interest (covered exhaustively here) but that his role within the decadent period of British imperialism and founding of a derivative American imperialism through to the communist scares is culturally significant.

Although not originator of many memes about the Chinese, his work crystallised them as a mash-up of music hall, esoteric, pseudo-historical, cliched detective and political themes that has arguably had effects as far as China itself.

Rohmer is a 'signifier' personality taking us from the decadence of the era of Oscar Wilde through the popular music hall and into the era of pulp serials and silent and then talking movies - he is a right-wing shadow, in this respect, of Charlie Chaplin (except, of course, for the decadence).

If Chaplin offers us the 'little man' making his way in the world, Rohmer speaks for the anxieties and fears of other little men faced with threats from unknown political forces and competition for labour from foreigners. Fu Manchu makes those threats seem less mundane and more romantic.

There are essays here on the yellow peril meme, on the late imperial music hall, on the Chinese historical roots of the mythos, on the relationship between super villains and fear of anarchists and socialists and on the sexual tensions created by racial sterotypes. Lots to enjoy there!

Read as a whole, one emerges with a very clear understanding of how this entertaining second rate pulp writer whose Fu Manchu novels are still in print managed to encapsulate male erotic fantasies and cultural anxieties within that imperial context.

His work was part of a much wider body of work by thriller and adventure writers that helped to give meaning to the clerical worker and the minor colonial civil servant otherwise caught up in the drudgery necessary to keep the machinery of a great empire oiled and working.

This is, fortunately, no silly left-wing ideological tract against Rohmer - we are all now bored with that sort of thing as the dull-witted Eighties Post-Marxists head for their care homes - but an exercise in detached understanding of another time in the same place (for most of the writers).

The mature approach here is to note that his characterisations were primitive and 'racist' but also complex and cynical (he wrote for money and was clear about that). The novels were part of an insecure and anxious cultural whole that cannot be wished away through outrage or censorship.

The overall conclusion must be that Sax Rohmer will continue to be read by academics and ironists (one is not surprised to find him an influence on Guy Debord and the Situationists) but that his world is now as alien to us if still as entertaining as that of, say, Henry Fielding or Rider Haggard.

Nevertheless, this collection is highly recommended (despite the repetitions) for its insights and its entertainments. I am not sure there is, honestly, much more to say on the subject other than to suggest reading one of the first half dozen Fu Manchu novels. show less

Wow. What an absolutely fantastic read. When writing about a subject like this an author could approach it from many avenues. A less creative author may dryly stick to the facts: when/where absinthe was invented, how it's made, and how it's enjoyed. However, Phil Baker decided to tell the story of absinthe or "The Green Fairy" though the eyes (our perhaps mouths) of the drinkers who made it famous (or infamous). Barker includes numerous and lengthy quotes from key figures of the late 19th show more century: Oscar Wilde, Ernest Dowson, Aubrey Beardsley, Aleister Crowley, Verlaine, Rimbaud, and Baudelaire, for example. He also provides quotes by 20th century notables like Ernest Hemmingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Picasso. He paints a vivid picture of the "Belle Epoch", and how absinthe played a key role in the development of the era's arts and culture.

One of my favorite parts is his section on Parisian playwright Alfred Jarry (I'd never heard of Jarry before). Alfred Jarry is famous for inventing surrealist theatre. He was a very bizarre person; dwarfish in height, dyed his hair green, was fond of pistols, and a notorious absintheur. He often wore a ridiculously tall top hat (to make him appear taller), and was known for taking pot-shots at people while drinking absinthe in cafes. He lived in a strange low attic room in Paris. On the way up to his room one would take a winding staircase with bloody handprints covering the walls. Inside his low ceiling hung just inches above his head, so anyone visiting would have to sit or stoop over. Here he would perform bizarre puppet shows. I could go on -- this is just a taste -- unfortunately he died from drinking ether.

Baker illustrates how absinthe was poorly (chemically) understood, became the scapegoat for society’s ills, and as a result was banned for nearly 100 years. Studies have since shown that absinthe neither causes hallucinations nor drives you mad. Bad batches from days with zero quality control gave it a bad reputation, not unlike bad moonshine. Since absinthe is extremely high in alcohol (averaging about 120 proof -- far greater than most whisky), it's more likely the destructive behavior and health problems associated with absinteurs was simply due to drunkenness and perhaps alcohol poisoning.

The author also analyzes modern thought on absinthe. He talks about how due to the ban it's been mythologized and taken on a taboo mystique. Thankfully, after a century, governments have finally come to their senses. The absinthe ban has been lifted in France, Canada, and the US.

This book was an incredibly fascinating and humorous read. I couldn't put it down. A can't imagine a better book on the subject. I'll end with a quote from Oscar Wilde regarding absinthe,

"After the first glass you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world." show less

Every time I go to my favorite liquor store I eye the beautiful green bottle of absinthe sitting near the counter, but have never given in. I still probably won't give in, but I can tell you that while reading this I kept thinking about trying it.

Baker's book explores the fascination and lure of absinthe among influential artists, poets and authors since the 1800s, as well as on the public at large. Many of the names are familiar: Van Gogh, Lautrec, Wilde, Rimbaud; the accounts of these show more celebrated artistes and their experiences with absinthe make for great reading, and serve as a commentary on the Bohemian lifestyle. The book also discusses the ban on the spirit after the French government decided it was detrimental to the health and well being of its people; then goes on to look at its resurgence. Baker also provides a glimpse of the deleterious effects of wormwood on the brain of the user, likening it to a 1940s-era cocktail known as the "Mickey Slim," which added the extra little touch of DDT to provide the extra kick. Hmm.

This is a very well-written account that could be read and understood by anyone. I was surprised to find out that absinthe is totally verboten to any US servicemen while overseas, or any government agents, but wait! There's Hillary Clinton sipping it in Prague (or did she just drink it without swallowing?)

I think I'll stick to my Campari and soda, thank you very much.... show less