Keith’s choices
Theme: Paternal Influence
We met on Thursday 8 May 2025 to discuss Keith’s choices around the theme Paternal Influence - and what an excellent theme that turned out to be.
Robin was unable to attend but messaged a few lines about the book and the film. Keith and Nick were unable to attend but sent in reviews instead.
Here’s what went down, and with a little AI assistance
READ: The Netanyahus by Joshua Cohen
In the style of Raymond Chandler….
The afterword, laid it out straight. This whole yarn, see, it wasn't just smoke and mirrors. Turns out, Netanyahu, the old man, he was the real McCoy, father of that kid, Benjamin. Him and his family, the 'Yahus' they called 'em, descended on Professor Blum's joint like a pack of hungry wolves. The whole setup, it was ripped from the headlines of a real visit the family paid to this Bloom fella, a tweed jacket type who taught English.
Keith, he’s a sharp cookie, called it a "fascinating fact-fiction feast." But he wasn't kidding nobody, this book wasn't a walk in the park. It came at you hard, no punches pulled. Maybe it got a little too big for its britches in spots, a bit too clever for its own good. But when you boiled it down, it was lean, sharp, and had a wit that could cut glass. Keith, he got a kick out of Judy's nose job – a calculated demolition, that one – right up to the Blums staggering home to find the Netanyahu hellions had turned the place upside down, capped off with a dame screaming bloody murder over the phone. The old man's lectures, they were heavy going, like wading through cement, but you gotta figure they left a mark on young Benjamin. The good parts, they were real good. The bad? They stunk. Sometimes, the whole thing just went over your head, and that was its biggest crime. It wasn't your average pulp, that's for sure. Ambitious, you could say that much.
Nick, he cracked a smile here and there, but mostly the thing got under his skin. Frustrating, he called it, pretentious. Too damn short for what it was trying to pull off. Made him feel like he was playing catch-up in a rigged game. Two whole chapters of letters from pointy-heads? Seemed like a stiff drink with no payoff. Though, he did admit, it hammered home how a good story, like that Zionist myth, could take on a life of its own, become realer than a sock to the jaw.
Nigel, he kept thinking of that Portnoy character we came across some years back. Some bits, he ate 'em up, especially the front end, when Blum's in-laws and then his own folks dropped by, one after the other, like bad news always does. And Judy, yeah, her memorable shortcut to a new schnoz, that was a killer. But then, about halfway, maybe two-thirds through, the charm wore off. It all dissolved into a mishmash of college-boy talk and guys falling over banana peels.
Roland, though, he lapped it up like a stray cat with a saucer of cream. The way it painted the Jews, stuck out in the sticks, away from the bright lights. The backstabbing in the halls of ivy, the laugh-out-loud moments that hit you like a sucker punch, the family squabbles, and then those Netanyahus. A real page-turner, he said. Flew through it.
Tristan, he did his homework, listened to some podcast before he even cracked the spine. Said old man Netanyahu was dead set on a Jewish state, no two ways about it. Amazing, he figured, how one little story could get blown up into a whole novel. Bizarre, but he had to hand it to them.
Hamish, he had a rough time with it. A difficult customer, this book, frustrating. The way it mixed the real with the make-believe, it didn't sit right with him. How much of it was gospel, how much was just hot air? That was the million-dollar question for Hamish. It nailed the vibe of those early sixties college campuses, he gave it that. But a lot of it felt phony, and some of the lines just didn't connect. Left a sour taste in his mouth, the whole damn thing.
Robin, yeah, he got a kick out of the history lesson, the dusty old facts of the matter. But when it came down to what the whole damn thing was for, he was adrift in a fog. Figured maybe the guy writing it was just a little too fond of the sound of his own voice, if you catch my drift. A bit of a private party, and Robin wasn't sure he was on the guest list.
Nick 7 / Tristan 8.5 / Nigel 7 / Keith 8 / Roland 10 / Robin - / Hamish 4
LISTEN: White Men Are Black Men Too by Young Fathers
In the style of PG Wodehouse….
Right ho, let's get the scorecard straight on this musical concoction, what!
Young Robin, it seems, decided to sit this particular dance out. Not a peep, not a sausage. Gave it the old silent treatment, did Robin.
Now, Nigel, bless his cotton socks, was absolutely over the moon, chaps! Dashed off a string of adjectives that would make a thesaurus blush. Called it "gloriously engaging," like a well-told yarn by the fireside. And then, hold on to your hats, he described it as "lo-fi, ramshackle, propulsive, and shapeshifting." Bit of a mouthful, that, but the general idea is that Nigel was tickled pink. He detected hints of that Tom Waits fellow – sounds like a chap who’s gargled with gravel, if memory serves – and something called the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, which sounds frightfully official. Then there was Public Image Limited, apparently from their "Flowers of Romance" phase (sounds a bit like a gardening club gone rogue, what?), The Fall (hopefully not a literal one, that would be beastly), and a cove by the name of Screaming Jay Hawkins, who I imagine doesn't do lullabies. Toss in a few snatches of soul and gospel for good measure, and Nigel declared it "Great stuff!" The tunes "Rain or Shine" and "Shame" were apparently the cat's pyjamas, the absolute bee's knees for young Nige.
Then there's Hamish. Old Hamish, a fellow of discerning taste, by Jove, positively adored the way they’d thrown all sorts of musical bits and bobs into the pot. A "musical mash-up," he called it, with the enthusiasm of a chef who’s just invented a new, rather daring, soufflé. And, get this, he reckoned they actually had something to say! Well, I never.
Keith, old bean, was another one caught in this album's irresistible charm. He "dug the musicality," which, he hastened to add, came with a "good dose of edginess." A bit like a perfectly brewed cuppa with an unexpected dash of chilli powder, I suppose. "What’s not to like?" he chirped, and for a chap named Keith, the answer was, apparently, "absolutely nothing." The title of the album itself, he felt, was a "suitably provocative title set against the other choices" – a bit of a verbal jab, a playful prod in the ribs, what?
Tristan, now, he appreciated the "driving nature of the music." Liked a bit of pep, did Tristan. Said it sounded "spontaneous and immediate," like a particularly energetic game of squash. But then, a small cloud appeared on the horizon of his enjoyment. "Perhaps a bit samey?" he ventured, a trifle hesitantly. One hopes not too samey, like wearing the same tie to the club three days running.
Nick, good old Nick, announced his love for this album, though with a caveat that would make a lawyer proud. Believed it wasn't their best, you see. A bit like saying your favourite aunt is splendid, but not quite as splendid as the other one who makes those divine scones. He was particularly chuffed when they "ditch the TV on the Radio shtick," whatever that particular piece of stage business might be. "Get Started," one of the ditties, was hailed as "great. Great!" Can't say fairer than that, can you?
Finally, Roland. Poor old Roland. He went in with his hopes sky-high, tail wagging, ready to be utterly bowled over. But alas, 'twas not to be. He rather liked the "musical mash-up," the general idea of it all. But, dash it all, none of the songs actually, as he put it, "grabbed him." Left him a bit cold, like a forgotten cup of tea on a winter's day. Disappointed, that was Roland. Ah well, can't win 'em all, can one?
Nick 7.5 / Tristan 6 / Nigel 8 / Keith - / Roland - / Robin - / Hamish 9
WATCH: The Apprentice dir by Ali Abbasi
In the style of Enid Blyton:
The gang had gathered in the old drawing room, mugs of hot cocoa in hand and the fire crackling merrily in the grate. Keith leaned forward in his chair, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.
“I must say,” he began, “I was ever so relieved that it wasn’t some silly film full of cheap digs and rudeness. No, it was more like a slow, steady twist of the knife — quite chilling, really! The transformation of the main character was handled with such care and subtlety. You could almost feel the making of something monstrous. The most dreadful thing, of course, was the story of Roy Cohn. I hadn’t heard of him before — fancy that! And to think he was once the chief counsel to that horrid fellow, Joseph McCarthy. That rather says it all, doesn’t it? The film showed his vile influence so well. Makes you wonder — how much of Mr Trump was shaped by his father and this Cohn character?”
Nigel nodded seriously. “The Apprentice is a jolly clever film,” he said. “It paints a very compelling picture of Trump’s early days in the bustling, grimy world of New York real estate. It was the late seventies, and the city was just beginning to pick itself up again. His meeting with Roy Cohn seemed to change everything. The actor playing Trump — Sebastian Stan, I believe — was simply top notch. Not overdone in the slightest. You could see exactly how the world around him — and the people — started shaping who he became. Much more thoughtful than I expected, with plenty of hints about what was to come!”
“I saw it at the cinema,” said Nick quietly, “and I thought it was wonderful. Pity it didn’t get the attention it deserved over in America.”
Roland gave a thoughtful hum. “I liked it very much,” he said. “Perhaps they tried to cram in a bit too much? But at its heart, it was really about the influence of Roy Cohn. And that rang true to me.”
“Well,” said Tristan, frowning a little, “it was rather a hatchet job in parts. There were things left unsaid, and I’m not sure what was fact and what was just creative guesswork. But even so — it told a solid story. Quite unpleasant in places, but I think it was important. A shame more Americans won’t get to see it.”
Hamish gave a nod. “Yes, I agree with much of that. A clever film, well acted — but I did struggle with the whole idea of making a film about Trump at all. Still, it made me think.”
Then Robin grinned. “I thought it was a cracker! That actor from Succession playing Cohn — marvellous! The whole thing had a bit of that Succession feel to it, especially in how it was shot. And goodness, hasn’t hair replacement come a long way? Still,” he added with a wink, “if you lot take just one thing away from it — show no weakness, and remember: your version of the truth is the only one that matters! Deny everything!”
They all laughed at that, and the fire crackled even louder, as though it, too, was part of the conversation.
Nick - / Tristan 6 / Nigel 9 / Keith - / Roland 7 / Robin - / Hamish 6
ENDORSE IT
HBG endorse it: 4 April 2025 - 8 May 2025
Stereo Underground (Mixcloud)
Spoilt Creatures (2024) by Amy Twigg (Book)
