Book of the Week: How to kill everyone in Scotland
McIlvanney is chair of Scottish studies at the University of Otago. Right now he is on a book tour of Scotland, celebrating the very welcome news last week that The Good Father will be made into a TV drama series in Britain. Aye, I'll be wanting to watch that. I may already know how the story develops and what happens in the bloody end but I'll want to see the ways actors take on their roles—particularly Rory, a little boy who goes missing—and I'll really want to see what the town looks like. The book is set in Fairlie. Not our Fairlie, in the Mackenzie Basin of the South Island, which I am guessing is named after Fairlie in Scotland. It's got a beach. It's got peculiar houses lining the shore. McIlvanney describes it with a kind of atmospheric dread in The Good Father.
It's a book of two halves. Almost nothing happens in the first half which is to say a family is left with nothing after their son, Rory, goes missing. There are very few clues. There are even fewer suspects. The story is narrated by Rory's dad, Gordon, an English professor. He and his wife Sarah are shattered and helpless and inert. 'People talk of grief as a numbness. With me it was more like vertigo. I felt permanently dizzy…Who took him? Where has he gone? Is he safe? Is he still alive? The questions wheeled like vultures in the sun.' Grief is like a sickness, and McIlvanney leans close towards the suffering. He writes of Rory's disappearance without sentiment, and it's heartbreaking.
I suppose it makes sense that Gordon, because of his academic profession, would connect with great literature as he tries to make sense of Rory being there one minute and spirited away the next. 'Of all things, I thought about 'The Purloined Letter', Poe's short story where the massed ranks of the gendarme dismantle the minister's Paris apartment, searching for the stolen letter…Maybe, I thought, the police haven't exhausted every angle, chased down every lead.' That was fair, and I also accepted Gordon telling his university class, 'The challenge, then, for crime writers is to represent the gravity – in both senses of the word – of murder. The seriousness. The weight. What it really means to kill someone.' But McIlvanney doesn't leave it at that, and things get kind of meta as he expands on the tricks and methods of crime fiction. The Good Father is about the story of a missing boy. You want the tension and awfulness of the situation as it unfolds in Fairlie; you don't want the author intruding, and getting in the way.
You want to read about Fairlie. 'White triangles of sail on the darkening firth.' McIlvanney is so good at place; the setting is visible, you can feel it and smell it. His dialogue is sharp and well-formed, and he's alert to patterns of speech. 'Hell mend him,' says one character; another describes a hard drinker, 'He was putting it away like a man with three arms.' There's a visit to Aberdeen and a visit to a town in Cork. But the plot doesn't actually thicken; McIlvanney keeps a tight rein on things, never overplays his hand. There is no body, and a strong possibility that Rory was abducted, but his continued absence means the plot keeps thinning out, leaves Gordon and Sarah empty-handed, chasing shadows and phantoms. All of Part 1 of The Good Father is expertly told.
Part 2 is where the violence finally erupts. Something amazing happens, and things get even worse. The book takes on a darker tone and Gordon faces a stern moral test. He fails that test. There are four deaths. The first two are a misfortune but the others are more like a carelessness. Crime fiction depends on a final hurdle, and I'm not sure whether The Good Father takes it in its stride or crashes into it. McIlvanney seems to share the same credo as Eleanor Catton, when she approached the final hurdle of her novel Birnam Wood: kill everyone in sight.
Still, the deaths are efficient, and skilful, especially the last murder: 'The knife slithered crisply through the meat of him. The hilt clipped a rib…His mouth yawed open; blood poured brilliantly out.' The victim died 'like a dog'. I'd feel sorry for a dog. I didn't feel much for this guy but neither did I obtain any kind of satisfaction from his death. Things had gone too far. McIlvanney is adept at killing the most precious thing in our lives—hope—but perhaps got a bit too enthusiastic at the prospect of an all-out slaughter. It gave improbability to The Good Father. It's one thing to build the tension but it's another challenge to release it.
But the heart of the novel beats strong and clear. 'You think that families are held together by love,' Gordon tells us. 'That's not true. They're held together by secrets.' There is actually a fifth death in The Good Father. It's not a violent death. It takes place almost at the edges of this very good read, with its captivating scenery of Fairlie and its little note to the author's adopted country (New Zealand is pointed out on a globe as a 'long, slim country, italic-shaped'). It sends a message: good riddance to bad fathers.
The Good Father by Liam McIlvanney (Zaffre, $36.99) is available in bookstores nationwide
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NZ Herald
2 days ago
- NZ Herald
Notorious conman behind bars after 14-year manhunt
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Ahsan Ali Syed Syed ran a seemingly well-resourced finance operation with lavish offices in Switzerland and Bahrain. Photo / Supplied Van Leewarden was unwilling to identify the fraud victim he represented, citing privacy and legal privilege. Reports from the time WGA was active in 2010-11 reveal Wellington Phoenix owner and Apprentice New Zealand host Terry Serepisos and former NZ Mint owner Gary McNabb were among the New Zealand victims of the multimillion-dollar fraud. Syed had run a seemingly well-resourced finance operation with lavish offices in Switzerland and Bahrain, and claimed to have $8 billion available in finance. WGA made generous-looking loan offers to a number of businessmen and developers suffering through the post-Global Financial Crisis credit crunch in 2010-11. No clients ever received loans, Swiss prosecutors claim, with WGA allegedly just a vehicle to fleece victims. '[The] sole interest and intention was that these companies would transfer the largest possible sums of money to [Syed] or the Western Gulf Advisory group and that he could use these sums of money to finance a luxurious lifestyle for himself and his family,' the indictment said. Proceeds were used by Syed to buy a private jet, a football team, and employ a small army of publicists, security guards and assistants. During Serepisos' struggles against liquidation in late 2010 and 2011, Syed was said to be considering becoming a co-owner of the Wellington Phoenix. Van Leewarden first became involved chasing Syed by representing McNabb, but over time he signed up other victims – mostly from Australia, but also one in Russia – to broaden the case, split costs and increase possible recoveries. The trail led from Syed's birthplace in India to London, where he presented as a finance tycoon and conducted due diligence purportedly considering an offer for English Premier League team Blackburn Rovers. He spent time in Spain, became a short-lived local hero by buying the ailing La Liga team Racing Santander in 2010, before the team collapsed into bankruptcy once alarms started being sounded about WGA. Marks were targeted mostly in New Zealand and Australia, typically businessmen down to their last few million and desperate for refinancing. Contracts were signed in Bahrain and Amsterdam before money was sent to Switzerland. The multiple jurisdictions made it difficult for any single national authority to take responsibility for the case, van Leewarden said. 'That's the way that they operate, and generally they're going to get away with it unless there's a real overall focus on it,' he said. He said the Serious Fraud Office was unable to provide any assistance. After the balloon went up and complaints of fraud began circulating in the media and courtrooms, Syed retreated to Bahrain and spent more than six years contesting fraud claims pushed by van Leewarden that ended in disappointment. Van Leewarden chooses his words carefully, talking about justice in the Gulf enclave: 'I had a number of briefings with the prosecutors in Bahrain. They didn't really have an appetite for the case, and they seemed anyway to arrive at a position whereby what had happened were just normal commercial transactions.' Syed then fled to Turkey, becoming a citizen there and abandoning his Indian passport, before authorities in Ankara stripped him of citizenship in 2022 and he relocated once more to London. It was then late 2022 and, arriving at London airport, Syed's luck finally ran out. Arrested by English police on a 2013 Swiss warrant for fraud that demanded extradition, Syed spent two years behind bars in Britain before his appeals against being deported were exhausted. In late 2024 he made his final journey to Switzerland where Swiss prosecutors and a New Zealand private investigator were waiting for him to finally face the music. Matt Nippert is an Auckland-based investigations reporter covering white-collar and transnational crimes and the intersection of politics and business. In 2011 he broke the first story about Western Gulf Advisory being an apparent advance fee fraud. He has won more than a dozen awards for his journalism – including twice being named Reporter of the Year – and joined the Herald in 2014 after having spent the decade prior reporting from business newspapers and national magazines.
Otago Daily Times
2 days ago
- Otago Daily Times
The fascist position on yoga
For more than a century, elements of the far right have been attracted by yoga's rigours, the author of a new book tells Miles Ellingham. Stewart Home just wanted to do a headstand. That said, one shouldn't always take what Home does at face value. Over the course of his career, Home (born Kevin Llewellyn Callan), a writer, artist and activist, has written a novel about dragging Diana, Princess of Wales's corpse around a Scottish stone circle, formed a series of anti-art movements and publicly announced his intention to levitate Brighton's Pavilion theatre. This time, though, he's adamant he really did just want to do a headstand. In 2009 he took up yoga, which was offered as part of his gym membership. Home threw himself into the practice, subjecting himself to more than 1000 classes between 2009 and 2019, many of them just down the road from the East London Tara Yoga Centre, the scene of an investigation into "bad guru" Gregorian Bivolaru, who allegedly tempted followers into "an international web of trafficking and sexual exploitation". But Home wouldn't have known about that back then. What he did know was that some of his classmates were acting weird. Home has a high threshold for weirdness, but this was surpassed when a fellow student sidled up to him and proclaimed herself a "starseed" — a sort of New Age angel-alien hybrid sent to Earth to cleanse humanity. Home was also thrown by the cult-like, authoritarian guru-student relationship of his classes, which concluded in a traditional namaste gesture of respect. He elected instead to hold his fist in the air and mutter: "No god, no guru." Home wanted to do a headstand. However, after some cursory research, he realised something troubling: so did the Waffen-SS. The opening chapter of his book Fascist Yoga: Grifters, Occultists, White Supremacists, and the New Order in Wellness begins with a definition of the practice it interrogates: "The term 'yoga' refers to both a physical culture system that is slightly more than a century old and a set of religious practices whose origins pre-date those of postural yoga, though they were reinvented in the late 19th century." Home's book does not claim that yoga, with its nebulous origins, is inherently fascist, nor that all yoga practitioners are primed for far-right indoctrination. Rather, after its adoption in the west, a Venn diagram emerges. In one circle, there's yoga, Tantra, occidental Buddhism and Hinduism, New Age spirituality and basic hippydom. In the other, authoritarianism, fascism, proto-fascism, white supremacy and far-right conspiracy theory. Home wanders through the gateway between these two circles, emerging into a dark, contradictory realm where death camp guards sit in a lotus position, bare-chested Italian militiamen play catch with live grenades and "Miss Jelly Fish" is flattered without reservation. More on Miss Jelly Fish later, but first we begin with "the Great Oom". Pierre Bernard should never really have been called "the Great Oom". The title was a mistake by the New York press, which didn't know how to spell the "om" mantra correctly. Nevertheless, the name stuck. Bernard was extremely influential in the spread of yogic practices in the West during the early 20th century. He started out as a carnival attraction, gaining attention by publicly inserting surgical needles into himself. Later, he began espousing hypnotism and Tantra and, in 1905, founded the Tantrik Order in America on the West Coast. He claimed to have learned his practices from a wandering guru called Sylvais Hamati, whose existence, Home points out, is not evidenced by Bernard's biographer. Soon after founding the Tantrik Order, Bernard moved to New York, where he launched yoga classes for the ultra-wealthy elite. His disciples included the Vanderbilt heiress Margaret Stuyvesant Rutherfurd, along with the British fascist Francis Yeats-Brown and a racist journalist called Hamish McLaurin. In 1910, Bernard was charged with kidnapping two teenage girls. Modernity rolled fascism into being. But, despite modernity, fascism needed its own mythology, so fascists looked east. Two of Bernard's disciples, Yeats-Brown and McLaurin, collaborated on a book, Eastern Philosophy for Western Minds, which traced "Indo-Aryan texts" to an ancient encounter between "highly developed" ancient Aryan invaders of "the purest possible white stock" and "a dark-skinned people infinitely beneath them on the evolutionary scale". Yeats-Brown found fame the same decade with his memoir The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, which was adapted into a film — reportedly a favourite of Hitler's — starring Gary Cooper. Yeats-Brown was not the only British fascist yogi of his time. There was also the army officer Major-general J.F.C. Fuller, who is partially credited with inventing blitzkrieg warfare. According to the historian Kate Imy, Fuller studied "the Vedas and the Upanishads [and] took a deep interest in the yoga philosophy". Fuller was, for a while, a disciple of the occultist Aleister Crowley, although the pair fell out, Home writes, "over Crowley's indulgence in sex magic with other men". In April 1939, months before the Nazis invaded Poland, Fuller was an honoured guest at Hitler's 50th birthday, a three-hour motorised military parade in Berlin. The path to 20th-century fascism, as Home outlines, is punctuated with yoga and racist interpretations of eastern philosophy. Another example was the Italian aristocrat Gabriele D'Annunzio, often credited as the "John the Baptist of fascism" after leading the 1919 rogue annexation of the port of Fiume (now Rijeka in Croatia). D'Annunzio, a strange narcissist, claimed to be "the greatest Italian writer since Dante". Among his proto-fascist legionnaires was Guido Keller, a manic depressive, cocaine-fuelled aviator who posed as Neptune on photoshoots and slept in a tree with his pet eagle. During the occupation of Fiume, Keller founded the "Yoga group", whose manifestos adopted the (then-neutral) swastika as a symbol. "D'Annunzio and his followers saw in Hinduism what they saw in the mirror — bold and sensuous vitality — plus an aura of eastern holiness," Mark Thompson, a historian of early 20th-century Italy, said. "This vision gave them another licence for hedonism ... Critics of the yoga industry say it peddles the same clueless 'Orientalism' and with it, possibly, the proto-fascist ideology that celebrated warriors and master heroes for real." Not long after the annexation of Fiume, Heinrich Himmler — influenced by German Indologist Jakob Wilhelm Hauer — looked to Hinduism as an Aryan religion. According to the German historian Mathias Tietke, Himmler avidly consumed the Bhagavad Gita and later intuited its philosophy as a justification for the Holocaust. Tietke's research reportedly found that the SS death camp guards were officially recommended yoga and that Himmler even touted Wewelsburg Castle near Paderborn as a centre for "yoga exercises, meditation, Bhagavad Gita readings and yogic nutrition". According to Home, Hitler didn't appear to share the same yogic enthusiasm as Himmler. That said, one widely reproduced photograph shows his future wife, Eva Braun, in a picturesque, lakeside back bend — though whether she's explicitly practising postural yoga is "impossible to tell". Pre-1945, the fascism-yoga Venn diagram hardly resembles its traditional shape — it's just a broad circle with two slim crescents on either side. Prominent figures residing within this overlap included the Italian imperialist "super-fascist" Julius Evola (the modern far-right's treasured philosopher) and Mircea Eliade, a Romanian academic who wrote a thesis on yoga practices before throwing his weight in the 1930s behind the Iron Guard, a religious fascist movement that carried out multiple assassinations. In his essay Ur-Fascism, Umberto Eco — who was not a fascist but had been forced to participate in fascism as a child — attempts to answer a difficult question: what is fascism? Eco writes that defining fascism is like defining a game: there's no single characteristic, but you know it when you see it. This, he contends, is due to an overlapping sequence of features or "family resemblances". Many of these are also applicable to new age spirituality. One is a "rejection of modernism". We see this both in the new age movement's rejection of a materialist world and in far-right traditionalists bemoaning social progress. Another is what Eco calls "the cult of action for action's sake". He describes this as the fascist belief that action is beautiful in itself, that "thinking is a form of emasculation". This almost sounds like something out of Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love ("the resting place of the mind is the heart", a monk tells the book's central character). Eat, Pray, Love leads us to another of Eco's fascist identifiers: its "appeal to a frustrated middle class", which certainly applies to yoga. "If you understand being mainstream as appealing to thin white women with money to burn," Home writes, "then you can't get more mainstream in the world of modern postural practice than [the online magazine] Yoga Journal ... A 'recommended yogi reading' list on its website includes Eliade's Yoga: Immortality and Freedom. I'm still seeing this work repeatedly recommended to yoga teachers and practitioners with no warning about the fact it was written by someone active in fascist politics at the time it was composed." After reading Home's book, I met him near his old yoga studio. Home and I sat in the shade of an overhanging tree, meditative but not cross-legged upon a rock. I put it to him that if, say, ping-pong happened to have a number of fascist devotees, it doesn't necessarily make it fascist. "But what about if the guy who came up with the game of ping-pong had a bunch of fascist and white supremacist followers," he responds. "Also, ping-pong doesn't have the mystical trappings of a cult." Home argues that fascist yoga continued into the late 20th century, only in a slightly more veiled way. "A lot of the earlier fascist yogis are referred back to," he says of subsequent followers. "So even someone like Harvey Day, who is explicitly anti-racist in his books, can't resist mentioning the Aryan origins of yoga and will reference Francis Yeats-Brown and other people, and I think it's the credulity around the beliefs, it's what I describe as anti-essentialism and belief in one's own truth. Also, with QAnon and antivax stuff, you see this being discussed more." Home sees a telling similarity between the reverence QAnon adherents feel towards their saviour, Donald Trump, and the ardent spiritual devotion for Hitler displayed by the Nazis. "There's a very clear parallel between the two things," he says. Whether QAnon's "esoteric Hitlerism" is consciously borrowed or simply emerges from the same mythic structure, he continues, "hinges on research I haven't done". Travis View, via his QAA podcast, has been examining the QAnon movement since its origins in 2017. View points out perhaps the most obvious recent collision point between far-right QAnon conspiracy theory and new age beliefs: Jacob Chansley, AKA "the QAnon Shaman". Chansley became the mascot of the January 6 insurrection after he stormed the US Capitol in facepaint and a fur horned headdress. Having gained access to the Senate chamber, Chansley led the rioters in quasi-Christian prayer but, View explains, he was also fascinated by Native American mysticism and occultism. "I also think there's a broad overlap," View says, "between the hyper-individualism of the far right and new age wellness thinking. There's a distrust of, for example, public health measures and a belief that you have a moral obligation to take care of your own health entirely. This is why there's so much overlap in anti-vaccine belief; it's a far-right belief, but also something you'd see in crunchy yoga circles." Another similarity, View says, is that both camps prioritise esoteric knowledge. "If you're very deeply into spiritualism, there's a belief that there's esoteric knowledge that is suppressed and you can 'awaken' to it ... and then on the far right, they have the same belief, but it's that the media and the education system is controlled by Jews or whatever, and in order to escape this thinking, you have to awaken to the lies of society. Both promote a personal hero's journey you have to go through in order to reject mainstream orthodox knowledge." Fascist Yoga asserts that yogic postural practice and, to an extent, new age spirituality more broadly, is a natural home for people who crave methods of sexual coercion and control. People such as Frank Rudolph Young. The author, who died in Chicago in 2002 at the age of 91 (an impressive innings, if short of the 330 years that he had expected), wrote multiple books on seduction, mental domination and — you guessed it — yoga. In his 1969 title Yoga for Men Only, he claims the practice can enhance male "sex power" and "manly sex appeal". Young also identified 42 different personality types and details how to manipulate them. One example Home mentions is Miss Jelly Fish, who Young advised to "flatter without reservation ... despite her embarrassed smile". Miss Jelly Fish hails from a self-published mail-order book called X Ray Mind, published under the pen name Maravedi El Krishnar. She has a "soft, sweet voice" with a "bashful smile", the book suggests. She also "prefers isolation and the company of girls half as pretty as herself". Young also told readers to gaze into the mirror and imagine themselves possessing "incomparable mental power". Home's book is not only a useful tool for understanding a historical precedent, but it also gives context to a persistent problem: that people can excuse almost anything via their own enlightenment and that wellness is not always preached by well-meaning people or for well-meaning reasons. Just two months ago, for example, Israeli newspaper Haaretz published an article headed "Destroying Gaza 'with love': Israel's new YogiNazis", which featured a settler, Rivka Lafair, who Channel 4 described as "a poster girl for Israel's powerful far right". Haaretz quotes Lafair addressing "everyone who doesn't understand how it's possible to be spiritual, to teach yoga and hold retreats, while calling for the expulsion and annihilaSHon [sic] of your enemy". Her answer, the article reads, is clear: "I love my people with an undying love, and I hate my enemy with an undying hatred ... One does not contradict the other." After much consideration, Stewart Home does not recommend pursuing postural yoga. Outside his local gym, however, he triumphantly demonstrates his headstand. He prefers a tripod headstand, which is associated with gymnastics as opposed to the basket headstand recommended by yoga teachers. While he's upside down, I ask if he can feel the spirit of fascism? "No," he replies. "I've exorcised it completely by writing the book." — The Observer
NZ Herald
2 days ago
- NZ Herald
Tom Hiddleston spotted in Queenstown during shoot of Tenzing film where he plays Sir Edmund Hillary
Hollywood actor Tom Hiddleston (centre carrying brown bag) is pictured at the staging area below The Remarkables for an upcoming film where he plays Sir Edmund Hillary. Listening to articles is free for open-access content—explore other articles or learn more about text-to-speech. Already a subscriber? Sign in here Access to Herald Premium articles require a Premium subscription. Subscribe now to listen. Tom Hiddleston spotted in Queenstown during shoot of Tenzing film where he plays Sir Edmund Hillary Hollywood actor Tom Hiddleston (centre carrying brown bag) is pictured at the staging area below The Remarkables for an upcoming film where he plays Sir Edmund Hillary. English actor Tom Hiddleston has been spotted in Queenstown this week as he films a movie playing New Zealand's greatest mountaineer Sir Edmund Hillary. Hiddleston stars as the Kiwi legend in the biopic of Hillary's sherpa climbing companion Tenzing Norgay, who completed the world first summit of Mt Everest, with Hillary, in 1953. In the Herald exclusive photographs, taken near The Remarkables this week, Hiddleston is seen in cold weather gear with a bag slung around his shoulder. Staff unloading old style hiking equipment for the upcoming movie, near The Remarkables. Photo / Supplied Film crew are pictured offloading props and equipment, including old-style climbing gear, from helicopters.
