Jason's former cultural pin-up, the exquisitely heterosexual David Sylvian
Where are my manners? Madame Arcati extends her belated congratulations to Jason Cowley, the newly appointed editor of the New Statesman, the current editor of Granta.
He is a man of Renaissance interests – accommodating high literature (provided that it’s published by mainstream publishers), pop music, politics and sport in his learned fixations. The last is most unfortunate but makes him acceptable for the purposes of mainstream and senior editorial appointments. It indicates, um, robustness. I understand he moves to the Staggers in September.
I don’t know much about him except that he was once an “intensely active teenager”, one of Peter York's "neurotic boy outsiders", who calmed down a bit to the mordant strains of Japan (the band). “It was a time [sometime in the ‘80s I guess] when we all liked to dress up with arch ostentation and steal our mothers' make-up. But it was a superficial time, and no one wishes to be reminded of the excesses of their youth,” he writes prettily in a 2005 essay on (and interview with) Japan’s improbably - yet resolutely - straight David Sylvian.
If anyone has a photograph of the teenage Mr Cowley wearing his mother’s lip gloss, eyeliner and/or other decorative pop accoutrements (high heels especially welcome) - perhaps his arms aloft in a group sway to Japan's Adolescent Sex - do not hesitate to email me. Discretion assured.
A collection of Mr Cowley’s distinguished and stimulating journalism is to be found at his website, click here.
10 comments:
Suddenly Cowley seems interesting. But not that interesting.
Someone edits Granta ?
"I understand he starts in September" - understand from his numerous quotes on the subject? Or just from the profiles and news reports?
"I understand" is just me being polite for "I don't usually believe what half-educated hacks scrawl in dead tree land but on this occasion I'll give them the benefit of the doubt." Does that answer it, my little chirrup?
Oh and there was I thinking it was implying some sort of insider knowledge. How silly of me. My dearest cupcake.
Insider knowledge such as you display? You tell me something I'll tell you something. Now back to your hackery and the fulminations of your psycho editor.
He *is* starting in late September.
No!
As an example of Master Cowley's 'distinguished and stimulating journalism', may I recommend the article 'When a son's thoughts turn to murder' (published in the Observer and now available on the great scribe's website).
Note the sleight of keyboard by which Cowley gives the impression in the first two paragraphs that he attend the appearance of his "friend" the hapless Mr Hills at the Old Bailey. Actually, Cowley couldn't be arsed to attend. Nor did he bother to visit Mr Hills in chokey until he realised he could make a few quid writing about the experience. One is left with the impression that the 'assault' and 'indignities' to which Cowley was subjected as a visitor to Belmarsh are far harder to bear than being banged up there like Mr Hills. Incidentally, no one peered into my boxers when I visited Mr Hills: what, Madame Arcati, was I doing wrong?
Dear Foxfinder, thank you for your most illuminating observations - I shall read Mr Cowley's piece with my customary interest. As to the matter of your boxers, this is well beyond my competence to comment upon. But think of it as their loss. MA x
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