Splinters

Greetings to readers of Spike and Splinters; Benjamin J Granger here. Chris Mitchell has kindly let me have the odd spot on this fine blog, which I am honoured to accept. Watch as I squander this honour by dribbling out inconsequential bilge and fluff on a regular basis. I shan't be posting as often as my illustrious forbears Chris, Steve and Ismo, probably about once a week, so you won't be suffering too much anyway.

Steve regularly documents the BBC's plummeting commitment to literature, so its nice to have the odd exception that proves the rule. Friday night on BBC2 features a very good adaptation of Patrick Hamilton's 20,000 Streets Under The Sky. I saw it when it was bunged away on BBC4, and I'm glad it's getting the wider viewing it deserves.

I will bore anyone sitting still for a minute with my view that Hamilton is one of the most under-rated English authors of the twentieth century, and Hangover Square in particular is a half-forgotten classic. Both Square and Sky bring to vibrant life a bleak, sodden, yet touching and humane vision of desperation and thwarted love among the pub-dwelling downtrodden of London and Brighton in the 30s.

Square to me is both the more tragic and the more entertaining book, the characters more marked and colourful, the villains more memorably dire (plus I'm a sucker for fascism and schizophrenia in a story.) Square's protagonists are the pissed-up dropped out bohemian bourgeoisie, Sky's are by contrast a working-class set, the betrayal and violence at work a lot less outlandish and cruel, which makes it the more touching and subtle work.

Adaptations rarely live up to books that make great use of language, and, famously, potboilers like Godfather and Jaws can make for far greater films. But on this occasion the Beeb done pretty good, as good as can be expected anyway. I recommend those living in Blighty give it a go, and those outside get hold of it where you can. Don't confuse it with 2000 Acres of Skye though. Whatever you do. Fucking shite.