Latest news with #Observer
Observer
a day ago
- Health
- Observer
Colon cancer can strike younger than you think
Like me, you may have had or might face cancer someday. I consider myself fortunate to be in Oman, where thanks to an excellent team of Omani doctors, I am now cancer-free. The cancer I had was in the lower digestive system, specifically in the colon. It's a topic many shy away from because it's embarrassing to talk about, but for me it was a wake-up call. When I received the diagnosis, I experienced disbelief. I had always joked that I planned to go quickly, possibly with a heart attack. However, the reality set in during a visit to my consultant, because I felt unusually fatigued. He suggested I undergo an endoscopy and colonoscopy, which I initially thought was over the top. In the UK, my NHS GP might have simply prescribed iron tablets, as GPs there often have to operate within strict financial constraints that prioritise budgets over thorough diagnostics — an issue rooted in the broader failings of our health service. In Oman, I was fortunate to see highly qualified specialists. My Omani consultant gave me a knowing smile when I mentioned my concerns about his cancer related questions. The day before my colonoscopy I fasted and took the liquid laxative. Under deep sedation (which I advise always to accept) I then had the colonoscopy. The gastroenterologist, a well-respected and familiar face, entered the room during my recovery. He told me there was nothing wrong up there — my stomach was fine — but that "down there", he found something "sinister". The word "sinister" caught my attention. I thought of its Latin root meaning "left", but since I was no longer teaching Latin I decided not to elucidate. I inquired instead if he was suggesting something malignant. Yes, he confirmed — cancer. I asked if it was serious, but he could only say it was quite well-hidden. It was surreal, as if I'd entered a new world. Everything else, my book writing, writing for the Observer, my UK property business, all became insignificant compared to this news. That week was filled with Google searches about survival rates, treatments and prognoses. The prognosis for colon cancer can be grim, especially if it's aggressive. My biopsy confirmed I had an aggressive form, one that was out to get me. The day of surgery arrived. I wasn't afraid, knowing I was in good hands. My surgeon was renowned in Oman and internationally. He initially planned for a laparoscopy, but because the tumour was large, he had to open me up. I discovered that the true extent of a cancer's stage can only be known post-op after the pathology report. On the day I sat waiting to hear the results, I felt faint with nerves, low iron or both. I was about to learn whether I faced stage 1, 2, 3, or 4 cancer. By then, I had become an expert googler on colon cancer. The moment came. The surgeon, surprisingly, started chatting about life in general. I pressed him on my stage, I needed clarity. He simply waved his hand dismissively and said, 'Oh, Stage Zero.' Stage Zero? I'd never heard of that. Like a rattlesnake curled up, ready to strike, it hadn't moved. Colon cancer is becoming more common, even among younger people. If you're over 45, I strongly recommend getting a colonoscopy. Early detection offers nearly 100 per cent curability. It's a serious health risk, but it's also one that can be effectively managed if caught early. If you're over 45, I strongly recommend getting a colonoscopy. Early detection offers nearly 100 per cent curability. It's a serious health risk, but it's also one that can be effectively managed if caught early.
The Herald Scotland
a day ago
- Sport
- The Herald Scotland
Tributes to 'Mr Stirling': journalist dedicated to his home town
Died: July 3, 2025 Some individuals are destined to become influential figures whose success in life will impact significantly on people, communities and events. Alan Rennie, who has died aged 74, was one. A highly talented journalist, Alan's enormous contribution to the Stirling Observer, very many people (including me) and the royal burgh, towns and villages in which he lived and socialised cannot be exaggerated. In Alan's case, however, what set him apart from other similar souls was his humility, deference and humour. Alan, I suspect, never had any inkling of the colossal regard and affection which many of us had for him. He was my first boss in his role as chief reporter for the Observer and proved to be a brilliant editor, tutor and guide. To his great credit, however, he had no concept of this. I am one of many aspiring journalists whose careers owed much to Alan. There is still an unlikely number of Scotland's preeminent journalists and media figures who owe at least part of their success to Alan. For me (and I claim no preeminence), perhaps most importantly, we remained friends for life. Away from newspapers, however, many other people shared the same extreme respect for Alan. Indeed, in the days after his death there was an outpouring in just about equal measure of affection for him as an individual and admiration of his professional achievements. In sport, he was rugby daft and a lifelong member of Stirling County RFC. Some stalwarts of the club credit him with helping County's rise to Scottish champions in 1995. That team's scrum-half, Kenneth Harper, said Alan's promotion in the Observer of all things County drove up interest, attracted players and spectators, and contributed to the title win. Mr Harper also suggested that the change in emphasis from soccer and Stirling Albion to rugby and Stirling County was a brave revolution that had never been done previously. He was also a keen golfer and was a member of [[Stirling]] Golf Club for many years. In his younger days, he played football to a very decent level, turning out for Bannockburn Amateurs during the club's very successful seasons in the early 1980s. Cricket was another game he played, featuring for the [[Stirling]] Observer team in the Palmer Sevens tournament run by [[Stirling]] County Cricket Club; and he was known to take to the area's bowling greens from time to time. Read more Tributes to countess who modernised royal Scottish castle 'Til next time we meet, you take care': the life of Glen Michael | The Herald Great Scots coach who was 'way ahead of his time' dies | The Herald But back to his roots, Alan was a [[Stirling]] man through and through, a Son of the Rock, born in the Raploch, in the shadow of [[Stirling]] Castle. His father was a policeman who was posted between [[Stirling]] and Falkirk, which meant his education was split between schools in the latter but mostly at St Ninians Primary and [[Stirling]] High School in the former. HIs working life began as a trainee journalist with Outram, a company which then owned The Glasgow Herald and a stable of local titles. He started at The Herald but moved to the Perthshire Advertiser, where he became chief reporter before transferring back to [[Stirling]] with the same position at the Observer. His wife, Mary, said: 'Alan's mum once told me that all he ever wanted to do from when he was a small child was to become editor of The Stirling Observer, and he got that in 1982. In 1987, he was offered the job of deputy editor at The Glasgow Herald, and he swithered about it but decided against it.' It was far from journalism alone, however, that marked Alan as a very special person; he had deep roots in his communities and gave back by the bucket-load. He sat on, and chaired , the community council where he lived near the village of Cambusbarron; he was a Rotarian who toiled through the auspices of his local club for good causes; he served on the board of the highly regarded Smith Art Gallery and Museum in [[Stirling]]; he was a trustee of the William Simpson Residential Care Home; and he was, as mentioned, a grand sportsman. He parted ways with the Observer in 2009 after more than a quarter of a century running the paper, the severance prompting thanks from local people. Mary recalls: 'There was a letter in the paper saying that he was Mr Stirling because he knew so much about the place. He was head-hunted by Keep Scotland Beautiful because of what he knew and who he knew. He was there for three years until he took early retirement. 'In 1992, he was contacted by someone in London saying he had been chosen to represent the Guild of Newspaper Editors, of which he was president, at a conference in Colorado Springs in America. He thought it was a joke call but it wasn't. He went off to Colorado and had a great time.' A keen traveller anyway, Alan later took Mary to the same place and they became frequent visitors to the United States, journeying with Mary to Colorado annually. He also made yearly trips to South Africa with golfing chums. 'He would do anything for anybody and was well liked by his staff,' said Mary. 'He had a great sense of community; he was also a member of the Guildry of Stirling and the Stirling Hammermen; and he was chieftain of the Stirling Highland Games in 2004. But he never did anything for personal kudos.' Another of his achievements was being a major influence in delivering city status for Stirling in 2002; the paper campaigned hard for the accolade. Alan was a loving husband to Mary, whom he married in 1987; she was equally devoted, as was evident during his last weeks and days when Mary was seldom away from his bedside, often sleeping in a chair beside his bed in hospital and care home. The best of company, he was well-known for enjoying a drink and over-imbibing on occasion. Famously in Stirling, he once approached the door of a nightclub in the town after a tipple or two more than was advisable only to be told he would not be admitted. 'Do you know who I am?' he demanded. The bouncer shook his head. 'I'm the Observer of the Stirling Editor!' he proclaimed. He was not, of course; he was the Editor of the Stirling Observer - and a damned fine one. MARTIN LAING
The Advertiser
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
Is it ever okay for a memoir to stray from the truth?
Raynor Winn, author of bestselling memoir The Salt Path - also a film starring Gillian Anderson - has been accused of deception in her story of hardship and healing. In Winn's account, after their "forever home" is dispossessed, she and her partner, Moth (who faces a terminal diagnosis) decide to walk the famous 630-mile South West Coast Path along the dramatic cliffs of south-west England. This week, an Observer investigation cast doubt over key aspects of Winn's memoir, which has sold nearly 2 million copies worldwide. Her response? A statement through her lawyer that raises enduring questions about what it means to claim a story is the "truth": "The Salt Path lays bare the physical and spiritual journey Moth and I shared, an experience that transformed us completely and altered the course of our lives. This is the true story of our journey." Publisher Penguin Michael Joseph told The Bookseller it "undertook all the necessary pre-publication due diligence" and that "prior to the Observer enquiry, we had not received any concerns about the book's content". Number 9 Films and Shadowplay Features told the UK's Sky News their film was a "faithful adaptation" of a book. In the book, Winn claims she and her husband lost their home in North Wales after making a bad investment in a friend's business, leaving them liable for debts when it folded. The Observer report claims they lost the house after Winn defrauded her employer of about £64,000, then borrowed £100,000 (with 18 per cent interest) from a distant relative, secured against their house, to repay the money. The couple's house was reportedly repossessed after they were sued to recover the money owed. While in the book they wrote they had nowhere to go, the Observer reports that the couple "owned land in France on which they had previously stayed". The report also raised serious doubts about Moth's terminal diagnosis of corticobasal degeneration (CBD), a rare condition in the same family as Parkinson's disease. He has been living with it for 18 years, "with no visibly acute symptoms", according to the Observer, but it usually has a life expectancy of around six to eight years and the specialists the publication spoke to were "sceptical". While they still make headlines, do these scandals around fabrication have the same impact they once did, in today's era of "fake news"? And what is "truth" in memoir anyway? Of course, we've been here before - most infamously, perhaps, 20 years ago with James Frey, 1990s poster boy for literary pork pies. In 2005, key claims in his addiction memoir, A Million Little Pieces, were debunked by website The Smoking Gun, which posts legal documents, arrest records and police mugshots. Frey's US publisher, Random House, was sued by a group of readers for breach of contract and fraud. The publisher offered refunds to any reader with a receipt for buying the book. Culturally, Frey suffered a blow worse than anything financial: he was cancelled by Oprah. In last month's interview, Frey indignantly argued his book was "85 per cent true [...] as most memoirs are". His main retort, though, was more philosophical: "When Picasso makes a self-portrait, if it's not photorealist, is it invalid?" Is a true story akin to the facts? What does it matter, and to whom? In the case of A Million Little Pieces, the question was interrogated legally. To call something memoir is to make a contract with the reader around facts - and this was breached. In the case of The Salt Path, that process is still unfolding. But how exactly do we cordon off facts from embellishments? Is fact strictly tied to the observable: times, places, names, events, chronologies? Can something be true but not factual? What about feelings? Pain itself is known to be experienced in variable ways, and any hotel review will tell you one person's ultimate luxury is another's shabby hell. The task of the writer is, surely, to reflect the peculiarly specific feeling of their living. Fundamentally, memoirists always manipulate story. Memoir is not autobiography. It involves a careful selection of the parts of our life that fit together to make a narrative - and it can employ a vast spectrum of fictional techniques. Carmen Maria Machado's In the Dream House, for example, uses a disjointed narrative arc of strung-together genre tropes (like sci-fi and self-help) to tell the story of her time in an abusive relationship. Helen Garner has written about the careful act of shaping the "I" who appears in her nonfiction. "There can be no writing without the creation of a persona," she says. "In order to write intimately - in order to write at all - one has to invent an 'I'." But it is clear that for Garner, the creation of a persona is not mere invention. We know this because she has spoken, too, about the freedom fiction gives her to make things up - a freedom she no doubt embraced after criticism over her conflation of multiple people into a single person in The First Stone. Much of Frey's indignance now seems to stem from the absurdity of how low the bar has sunk when it comes to standards of truth. And he has a point. To know whether an image is counterfeit, now we have to hope it includes hands (notoriously difficult for AI to master). Ours is a world where social media, absent of checks and balances, is the only growing source of news media. A world where whole journals are compromised by the mass generation of fake science - and where we swallow wholesale the documentarian claims of "reality TV", while knowing it is scripted. In such a world, what's a little fuzziness around the exact reasons a couple found themselves without a home and walking the cliffs of Devon? The contract with a reader is an emotional one - to believe someone has lived through the story they are telling involves a different kind of investment of self: a deeper empathy, a willingness to sit with pain or joy or fear that was real for the writer. And that is worth honouring. Raynor Winn, author of bestselling memoir The Salt Path - also a film starring Gillian Anderson - has been accused of deception in her story of hardship and healing. In Winn's account, after their "forever home" is dispossessed, she and her partner, Moth (who faces a terminal diagnosis) decide to walk the famous 630-mile South West Coast Path along the dramatic cliffs of south-west England. This week, an Observer investigation cast doubt over key aspects of Winn's memoir, which has sold nearly 2 million copies worldwide. Her response? A statement through her lawyer that raises enduring questions about what it means to claim a story is the "truth": "The Salt Path lays bare the physical and spiritual journey Moth and I shared, an experience that transformed us completely and altered the course of our lives. This is the true story of our journey." Publisher Penguin Michael Joseph told The Bookseller it "undertook all the necessary pre-publication due diligence" and that "prior to the Observer enquiry, we had not received any concerns about the book's content". Number 9 Films and Shadowplay Features told the UK's Sky News their film was a "faithful adaptation" of a book. In the book, Winn claims she and her husband lost their home in North Wales after making a bad investment in a friend's business, leaving them liable for debts when it folded. The Observer report claims they lost the house after Winn defrauded her employer of about £64,000, then borrowed £100,000 (with 18 per cent interest) from a distant relative, secured against their house, to repay the money. The couple's house was reportedly repossessed after they were sued to recover the money owed. While in the book they wrote they had nowhere to go, the Observer reports that the couple "owned land in France on which they had previously stayed". The report also raised serious doubts about Moth's terminal diagnosis of corticobasal degeneration (CBD), a rare condition in the same family as Parkinson's disease. He has been living with it for 18 years, "with no visibly acute symptoms", according to the Observer, but it usually has a life expectancy of around six to eight years and the specialists the publication spoke to were "sceptical". While they still make headlines, do these scandals around fabrication have the same impact they once did, in today's era of "fake news"? And what is "truth" in memoir anyway? Of course, we've been here before - most infamously, perhaps, 20 years ago with James Frey, 1990s poster boy for literary pork pies. In 2005, key claims in his addiction memoir, A Million Little Pieces, were debunked by website The Smoking Gun, which posts legal documents, arrest records and police mugshots. Frey's US publisher, Random House, was sued by a group of readers for breach of contract and fraud. The publisher offered refunds to any reader with a receipt for buying the book. Culturally, Frey suffered a blow worse than anything financial: he was cancelled by Oprah. In last month's interview, Frey indignantly argued his book was "85 per cent true [...] as most memoirs are". His main retort, though, was more philosophical: "When Picasso makes a self-portrait, if it's not photorealist, is it invalid?" Is a true story akin to the facts? What does it matter, and to whom? In the case of A Million Little Pieces, the question was interrogated legally. To call something memoir is to make a contract with the reader around facts - and this was breached. In the case of The Salt Path, that process is still unfolding. But how exactly do we cordon off facts from embellishments? Is fact strictly tied to the observable: times, places, names, events, chronologies? Can something be true but not factual? What about feelings? Pain itself is known to be experienced in variable ways, and any hotel review will tell you one person's ultimate luxury is another's shabby hell. The task of the writer is, surely, to reflect the peculiarly specific feeling of their living. Fundamentally, memoirists always manipulate story. Memoir is not autobiography. It involves a careful selection of the parts of our life that fit together to make a narrative - and it can employ a vast spectrum of fictional techniques. Carmen Maria Machado's In the Dream House, for example, uses a disjointed narrative arc of strung-together genre tropes (like sci-fi and self-help) to tell the story of her time in an abusive relationship. Helen Garner has written about the careful act of shaping the "I" who appears in her nonfiction. "There can be no writing without the creation of a persona," she says. "In order to write intimately - in order to write at all - one has to invent an 'I'." But it is clear that for Garner, the creation of a persona is not mere invention. We know this because she has spoken, too, about the freedom fiction gives her to make things up - a freedom she no doubt embraced after criticism over her conflation of multiple people into a single person in The First Stone. Much of Frey's indignance now seems to stem from the absurdity of how low the bar has sunk when it comes to standards of truth. And he has a point. To know whether an image is counterfeit, now we have to hope it includes hands (notoriously difficult for AI to master). Ours is a world where social media, absent of checks and balances, is the only growing source of news media. A world where whole journals are compromised by the mass generation of fake science - and where we swallow wholesale the documentarian claims of "reality TV", while knowing it is scripted. In such a world, what's a little fuzziness around the exact reasons a couple found themselves without a home and walking the cliffs of Devon? The contract with a reader is an emotional one - to believe someone has lived through the story they are telling involves a different kind of investment of self: a deeper empathy, a willingness to sit with pain or joy or fear that was real for the writer. And that is worth honouring. Raynor Winn, author of bestselling memoir The Salt Path - also a film starring Gillian Anderson - has been accused of deception in her story of hardship and healing. In Winn's account, after their "forever home" is dispossessed, she and her partner, Moth (who faces a terminal diagnosis) decide to walk the famous 630-mile South West Coast Path along the dramatic cliffs of south-west England. This week, an Observer investigation cast doubt over key aspects of Winn's memoir, which has sold nearly 2 million copies worldwide. Her response? A statement through her lawyer that raises enduring questions about what it means to claim a story is the "truth": "The Salt Path lays bare the physical and spiritual journey Moth and I shared, an experience that transformed us completely and altered the course of our lives. This is the true story of our journey." Publisher Penguin Michael Joseph told The Bookseller it "undertook all the necessary pre-publication due diligence" and that "prior to the Observer enquiry, we had not received any concerns about the book's content". Number 9 Films and Shadowplay Features told the UK's Sky News their film was a "faithful adaptation" of a book. In the book, Winn claims she and her husband lost their home in North Wales after making a bad investment in a friend's business, leaving them liable for debts when it folded. The Observer report claims they lost the house after Winn defrauded her employer of about £64,000, then borrowed £100,000 (with 18 per cent interest) from a distant relative, secured against their house, to repay the money. The couple's house was reportedly repossessed after they were sued to recover the money owed. While in the book they wrote they had nowhere to go, the Observer reports that the couple "owned land in France on which they had previously stayed". The report also raised serious doubts about Moth's terminal diagnosis of corticobasal degeneration (CBD), a rare condition in the same family as Parkinson's disease. He has been living with it for 18 years, "with no visibly acute symptoms", according to the Observer, but it usually has a life expectancy of around six to eight years and the specialists the publication spoke to were "sceptical". While they still make headlines, do these scandals around fabrication have the same impact they once did, in today's era of "fake news"? And what is "truth" in memoir anyway? Of course, we've been here before - most infamously, perhaps, 20 years ago with James Frey, 1990s poster boy for literary pork pies. In 2005, key claims in his addiction memoir, A Million Little Pieces, were debunked by website The Smoking Gun, which posts legal documents, arrest records and police mugshots. Frey's US publisher, Random House, was sued by a group of readers for breach of contract and fraud. The publisher offered refunds to any reader with a receipt for buying the book. Culturally, Frey suffered a blow worse than anything financial: he was cancelled by Oprah. In last month's interview, Frey indignantly argued his book was "85 per cent true [...] as most memoirs are". His main retort, though, was more philosophical: "When Picasso makes a self-portrait, if it's not photorealist, is it invalid?" Is a true story akin to the facts? What does it matter, and to whom? In the case of A Million Little Pieces, the question was interrogated legally. To call something memoir is to make a contract with the reader around facts - and this was breached. In the case of The Salt Path, that process is still unfolding. But how exactly do we cordon off facts from embellishments? Is fact strictly tied to the observable: times, places, names, events, chronologies? Can something be true but not factual? What about feelings? Pain itself is known to be experienced in variable ways, and any hotel review will tell you one person's ultimate luxury is another's shabby hell. The task of the writer is, surely, to reflect the peculiarly specific feeling of their living. Fundamentally, memoirists always manipulate story. Memoir is not autobiography. It involves a careful selection of the parts of our life that fit together to make a narrative - and it can employ a vast spectrum of fictional techniques. Carmen Maria Machado's In the Dream House, for example, uses a disjointed narrative arc of strung-together genre tropes (like sci-fi and self-help) to tell the story of her time in an abusive relationship. Helen Garner has written about the careful act of shaping the "I" who appears in her nonfiction. "There can be no writing without the creation of a persona," she says. "In order to write intimately - in order to write at all - one has to invent an 'I'." But it is clear that for Garner, the creation of a persona is not mere invention. We know this because she has spoken, too, about the freedom fiction gives her to make things up - a freedom she no doubt embraced after criticism over her conflation of multiple people into a single person in The First Stone. Much of Frey's indignance now seems to stem from the absurdity of how low the bar has sunk when it comes to standards of truth. And he has a point. To know whether an image is counterfeit, now we have to hope it includes hands (notoriously difficult for AI to master). Ours is a world where social media, absent of checks and balances, is the only growing source of news media. A world where whole journals are compromised by the mass generation of fake science - and where we swallow wholesale the documentarian claims of "reality TV", while knowing it is scripted. In such a world, what's a little fuzziness around the exact reasons a couple found themselves without a home and walking the cliffs of Devon? The contract with a reader is an emotional one - to believe someone has lived through the story they are telling involves a different kind of investment of self: a deeper empathy, a willingness to sit with pain or joy or fear that was real for the writer. And that is worth honouring. Raynor Winn, author of bestselling memoir The Salt Path - also a film starring Gillian Anderson - has been accused of deception in her story of hardship and healing. In Winn's account, after their "forever home" is dispossessed, she and her partner, Moth (who faces a terminal diagnosis) decide to walk the famous 630-mile South West Coast Path along the dramatic cliffs of south-west England. This week, an Observer investigation cast doubt over key aspects of Winn's memoir, which has sold nearly 2 million copies worldwide. Her response? A statement through her lawyer that raises enduring questions about what it means to claim a story is the "truth": "The Salt Path lays bare the physical and spiritual journey Moth and I shared, an experience that transformed us completely and altered the course of our lives. This is the true story of our journey." Publisher Penguin Michael Joseph told The Bookseller it "undertook all the necessary pre-publication due diligence" and that "prior to the Observer enquiry, we had not received any concerns about the book's content". Number 9 Films and Shadowplay Features told the UK's Sky News their film was a "faithful adaptation" of a book. In the book, Winn claims she and her husband lost their home in North Wales after making a bad investment in a friend's business, leaving them liable for debts when it folded. The Observer report claims they lost the house after Winn defrauded her employer of about £64,000, then borrowed £100,000 (with 18 per cent interest) from a distant relative, secured against their house, to repay the money. The couple's house was reportedly repossessed after they were sued to recover the money owed. While in the book they wrote they had nowhere to go, the Observer reports that the couple "owned land in France on which they had previously stayed". The report also raised serious doubts about Moth's terminal diagnosis of corticobasal degeneration (CBD), a rare condition in the same family as Parkinson's disease. He has been living with it for 18 years, "with no visibly acute symptoms", according to the Observer, but it usually has a life expectancy of around six to eight years and the specialists the publication spoke to were "sceptical". While they still make headlines, do these scandals around fabrication have the same impact they once did, in today's era of "fake news"? And what is "truth" in memoir anyway? Of course, we've been here before - most infamously, perhaps, 20 years ago with James Frey, 1990s poster boy for literary pork pies. In 2005, key claims in his addiction memoir, A Million Little Pieces, were debunked by website The Smoking Gun, which posts legal documents, arrest records and police mugshots. Frey's US publisher, Random House, was sued by a group of readers for breach of contract and fraud. The publisher offered refunds to any reader with a receipt for buying the book. Culturally, Frey suffered a blow worse than anything financial: he was cancelled by Oprah. In last month's interview, Frey indignantly argued his book was "85 per cent true [...] as most memoirs are". His main retort, though, was more philosophical: "When Picasso makes a self-portrait, if it's not photorealist, is it invalid?" Is a true story akin to the facts? What does it matter, and to whom? In the case of A Million Little Pieces, the question was interrogated legally. To call something memoir is to make a contract with the reader around facts - and this was breached. In the case of The Salt Path, that process is still unfolding. But how exactly do we cordon off facts from embellishments? Is fact strictly tied to the observable: times, places, names, events, chronologies? Can something be true but not factual? What about feelings? Pain itself is known to be experienced in variable ways, and any hotel review will tell you one person's ultimate luxury is another's shabby hell. The task of the writer is, surely, to reflect the peculiarly specific feeling of their living. Fundamentally, memoirists always manipulate story. Memoir is not autobiography. It involves a careful selection of the parts of our life that fit together to make a narrative - and it can employ a vast spectrum of fictional techniques. Carmen Maria Machado's In the Dream House, for example, uses a disjointed narrative arc of strung-together genre tropes (like sci-fi and self-help) to tell the story of her time in an abusive relationship. Helen Garner has written about the careful act of shaping the "I" who appears in her nonfiction. "There can be no writing without the creation of a persona," she says. "In order to write intimately - in order to write at all - one has to invent an 'I'." But it is clear that for Garner, the creation of a persona is not mere invention. We know this because she has spoken, too, about the freedom fiction gives her to make things up - a freedom she no doubt embraced after criticism over her conflation of multiple people into a single person in The First Stone. Much of Frey's indignance now seems to stem from the absurdity of how low the bar has sunk when it comes to standards of truth. And he has a point. To know whether an image is counterfeit, now we have to hope it includes hands (notoriously difficult for AI to master). Ours is a world where social media, absent of checks and balances, is the only growing source of news media. A world where whole journals are compromised by the mass generation of fake science - and where we swallow wholesale the documentarian claims of "reality TV", while knowing it is scripted. In such a world, what's a little fuzziness around the exact reasons a couple found themselves without a home and walking the cliffs of Devon? The contract with a reader is an emotional one - to believe someone has lived through the story they are telling involves a different kind of investment of self: a deeper empathy, a willingness to sit with pain or joy or fear that was real for the writer. And that is worth honouring.
The National
2 days ago
- Politics
- The National
Labour MPs back Diane Abbott after second suspension
The Hackney North and Stoke Newington MP said in an interview that she had no regrets about comments she made on racism which led to her being suspended by the party in 2023. Abbott had written a letter to the Observer comparing racism experienced by people of colour with that seen by other groups. Speaking to BBC Radio 4's Reflections programme, she said she did not look back on the incident with regret. The party confirmed on Thursday evening she has been administratively suspended pending an investigation. READ MORE: Anas Sarwar silent as Brian Leishman thrown out of Labour Labour MPs have since spoken out in solidarity with Abbott, with several claiming her comments have been taken out of context. Many journalists including Owen Jones and Sangita Myska have additionally called out the media coverage of Abbott's comments, with Myska saying Abbott "clearly condemns antisemitism" in the interview. Richard Burgon (below), who was suspended from Labour himself for a period after voting for the two-child cap to be dropped, tweeted: "As ever my total solidarity with Diane Abbott, a truly historic figure in the fight against racism in Britain and someone I am so proud to have as a friend. "People should watch the clip of what she actually said, rather than what some are claiming she said." Several MPs have reshared the clip of the interview pointing out her "informed contribution" and stressing she has a right to talk about her lived experience. Middlesbrough MP Andy McDonald said on Twitter/X that he hoped there would be an "early resolution" to her suspension. He posted: "Diane has been subjected to racism for decades and has a proud history of combatting it in all its forms. "Listen here to her informed contribution on racism in her Radio 4 interview. "I hope there can be calm consideration and an early resolution." READ MORE: Independence campaigners react to new John Swinney referendum plan Scottish MP Brian Leishman, who was suspended by Labour earlier this week alongside three of his colleagues, said Abbott "had fought against racism her entire life" as he shared her interview on social media. Bell Ribero-Addy, Labour MP for Clapham, encouraged people to listen to the entire clip of Abbott's interview where she condemns all forms of racism. She tweeted: "Solidarity with @HackneyAbbott "Before condemning her based on headlines, I would listen to her clip and note she discussed the different forms that racism takes and condemned all forms of racism." Asked if she looked back on her comments about racism with regret, Abbott said: "No, not at all. "Clearly, there must be a difference between racism which is about colour and other types of racism because you can see a Traveller or a Jewish person walking down the street and you don't know. "You don't know unless you stop to speak to them or you're in a meeting with them. But if you see a black person walking down the street you see straight away that they're black. They are different types of racism." She went on to say she would "of course" condemn antisemitism, adding she gets "weary of people trying to pin the antisemitic label on me" as she had spent "a lifetime fighting racism of all kinds". Jones said on Twitter there was "nothing wrong" with what Abbott said. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with anything Diane Abbott says here," he posted. "Labour is saying that black people are forbidden from describing their lived experience. "The same Labour whose leader does speeches about migrants which sound ripped off from Enoch Powell." Abbott apologised for any anguished caused by the remarks which drew criticism from Jewish and Travellers groups. Entering Parliament in 1987, Abbott is the longest-serving female MP in the Commons – which earns her the title of mother of the house.
South Wales Guardian
3 days ago
- Politics
- South Wales Guardian
MP Diane Abbott suspended from Labour Party over comments about racism
She has been 'administratively suspended' while the party investigates. The move means the whip is automatically suspended in the House of Commons for the Hackney North and Stoke Newington MP, it is understood. 'Diane Abbott has been administratively suspended from the Labour Party, pending an investigation. We cannot comment further while this investigation is ongoing,' a Labour Party spokesperson said. Ms Abbott was suspended by the Labour Party in 2023 after writing a letter to the Observer comparing racism experienced by people of colour with that seen by other groups. She apologised for any anguish caused by the remarks, which drew criticism from Jewish and Traveller groups, and was readmitted to the party before the 2024 general election. But in a new interview with BBC Radio 4's Reflections programme, she said she did not look back on the incident with regret. 'No, not at all,' she told the BBC. 'Clearly, there must be a difference between racism which is about colour and other types of racism, because you can see a Traveller or a Jewish person walking down the street, you don't know. 'You don't know unless you stop to speak to them or you're in a meeting with them. 'But if you see a black person walking down the street, you see straight away that they're black. They are different types of racism.' She added: 'I just think that it's silly to try and claim that racism which is about skin colour is the same as other types of racism.' Ms Abbott posted a clip of her BBC interview after news of her suspension emerged. She did not respond to a request for comment. Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner was asked if she was disappointed by the comments. 'I was. There's no place for antisemitism in the Labour Party, and obviously the Labour Party has processes for that,' she told The Guardian. 'Diane had reflected on how she'd put that article together, and said that 'was not supposed to be the version', and now to double down and say 'Well, actually I didn't mean that. I actually meant what I originally said', I think is a real challenge.'Ms Abbott is the longest-serving female MP in the Commons, having entered Parliament in 1987, and holds the honorary title of Mother of the House. She lost the whip in April 2023 after her letter to the Observer, sparking a long-running process during which she sat as an Independent MP for about a year while an internal investigation took place. She was readmitted as a Labour MP shortly before the 2024 election. Ms Abbott suggested in the letter that Jewish, Irish and Traveller people experience prejudice, but not racism. She withdrew the remarks the same day and apologised 'for any anguish caused'. In the newly released BBC interview, she said she was 'grateful' to be a Labour MP, but that she was sure the party leadership had been 'trying to get me out'.
