In the Critics this week

Jesse Norman on Edmund Burke and Brian Eno interviewed.

In the Critics section of this week’s New Statesman, John Gray reviews Edmund Burke: Philosopher, Politician, Prophet by the Conservative MP Jesse Norman. Burke, Gray argues, is:

“the thinker who more than any other exemplifies the contradictions of conservatism”. The principal contradiction in Burke’s conservatism is between, on the one hand, his hostility to “political rationalism”, the notion that society can be remade in the image of abstract ideals, and, on the other, his commitment to a species of providentialism according to which the steady advance of liberty is evidence of a divine author at work. Margaret Thatcher, Gray goes on, saw the political settlement she achieved “as a chapter in a Burkean grand narrative of liberty. Unsurprisingly, this settlement has now collapsed.”

Also in Books:

Sarah Churchwell is decidedly unimpressed by Z, Therese Anne Fowler’s novel based on the life of Zelda Fitzgerald, wife of F Scott Fitzegerald (“Writers of historical novels owe a debt to the facts that have inspired their fictions: Fowler wants to capitalise on the facts but feels no obligation to them”); former Conservative chancellor of the exchequer Norman Lamont reviews A Dangerous Delusion: Why the West Is Wrong About Nuclear Iran by Peter Oborne and David Morrison (“Iran has not been blameless in the nuclear negotiations … but the west will have to deal with Iran, just as it has had to deal with China”); Sophie Elmhirst reviews John Crace’s biography of Harry Redknapp, Harry’s Games (“[Redknapp] just wants to be liked and yet has shown remarkable disloyalty to both colleagues and players over the years”); Nick Spencer, research director at the thinktank Theos, reviews The Serpent’s Promise: the Bible Retold as Science by Steve Jones (“[Jones] protests that he wishes to avoid New Atheist vituperation, but when he does write about Christianity his attitudes are clear”); Daniel Swift reviews an edition of Kurt Vonnegut’s letters edited by Dan Wakefield (“Vonnegut is loved and celebrated because in the face of the darkest moments of human history he sounds attractively adolescent”).

In her Critics Interview, NS pop critic Kate Mossman talks to musician, producer and all-round renaissance man Brian Eno. “The art world bothers Eno,” Mossman writes. Eno tells her: “The art world has got into the habit of believing that its prices reflect its importance.” Eno himself has sometimes been on the receiving end of the kind of snobbery that reigns in the art world, mostly for his production work with mega-selling bands such as Coldplay and U2. “People don’t think my production is cool,” he says. “ [But] I like working with both those bands because they are at the centre of something I’m usually at the edges of … Snobbery is an English disease.”

Elsewhere in the Critics:

Ryan Gilbey reviews the new film by director Joachim Lafosse, Our Children (“Those of us who are forever citing Nicole Kidman’s tear-stained close-up in Birth as the ultimate example of wordless acting will now have to update our reference points”); Antonia Quirke listens to Radio 4’s Tweet of the Day (“Sound and silence, words and song, infinitely poetic: pure radio”); Rachel Cooke praises Hayley Atwell’s performance as a South London copper in ITV’s Life of Crime (“It’s great to see another tough woman copper hijack prime time”); Alexandra Coghlan returns to the Southbank Centre’s ongoing “The Rest is Noise” programme (“[The] festival reached its gritty core in the dark times of 1930s Germany”); architect Amanda Levete explains why “resistance is the fuel in the process of design” and why “cities are never perfect”.

PLUS: Will Self’s Madness of Crowds.

Artist and music producer Brian Eno poses in front of his light illustration at the Sydney Opera House (Photo: Getty)
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How wine crosses national boundaries

With a glass of wine, and a bit of imagination, wine can take us anywhere.

Wine offers many pleasures, one of which is effortless movement. You can visit places that make the wines you love, but you can also sip yourself to where these grapes once grew, or use a mind-expanding mouthful to conjure somewhere unrelated but more appropriate to your mood. Chablis, say, need not transport you to damp and landlocked Burgundy, even if the vines flourish there, not when those stony white wines suit sun, sea and shellfish so well.

Still, I’d never been to Istria – a triangle of land across the Adriatic from the upper calf of Italy’s boot – either in vino or in veritas, until I tried a selection of wines from Pacta Connect, a Brighton-based, wine-importing couple obsessed with Central and Eastern Europe. 

The tapas restaurant Poco on Broadway Market in east London has fiercely ecological credentials – it uses lots of locally sourced and sustainably grown food and the space is a former bike shop – but this fierceness doesn’t extend to entirely virtuous wine-buying, thank goodness. I’m all for saving the planet: waggle the eco-spear too hard, however, and I’ll be forced to drink nothing but English wine. Trying each other’s wines, like learning each other’s customs, is vital to understanding: there’s no point improving the atmosphere if we all just sit around inhaling our own CO2 at home.

The world is full of wine and it is our duty to drink variously in the name of peace and co-operation – which are not gifts that have frequently been bestowed on Istria. I have sought enlightenment from Anna, the Culinary Anthropologist. A cookery teacher and part-time Istrian, she has a house on the peninsula and a PhD in progress on its gastronomy. So now, I know that Istria is a peninsula, even if its borders are debated – a result of Croatia, Slovenia and Italy all wanting a piece of its fertile red soil and Mediterranean climate.

From ancient Romans to independence-seeking Croatians in the early 1990s, all sorts of people have churned up the vineyards, which hasn’t stopped the Istrians making wine; political troubles may even have added to the impetus. A strawberry-ish, slightly sparkling Slovenian rosé got on splendidly with plump Greek olives and English bean hummus, topped with pickled tarragon and thyme-like za’atar herbs from the Syrian-Lebanese mountains. A perfumed white called Sivi Pinot by the same winemaker, Miha Batič, from Slovenian Istria’s Vipava Valley, was excellent with kale in lemon juice: an unlikely meeting of the Adriatic, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Sivi Pinot is another name for Pinot Grigio, which seems fair enough: as long as we can raise our glasses and agree to differ, names should be no problem.

But sometimes we can’t. The other Slovenian winemaker on the menu, Uroš Klabjan, lives three kilometres from the Italian city of Trieste, where his Malvazija Istarska would be called Malvasia Istriana. Either way, it is fresh and slightly apricot-like, and goes dangerously well with nothing at all: I see why this is Istria’s most popular white grape. His Refošk, an intense red, is also good but there is a complicated argument over when Refošk should be called Teran. Like battles over parts of the Balkans, these wrangles seem incomprehensible to many of us, but it’s sobering to think that wine can reflect the less pleasant aspects of cross-cultural contact. Intolerance and jingoism don’t taste any better than they sound.

We finish with Gerzinić’s Yellow Muskat and rhubarb parfait: Croatian dessert wine from an ancient grape found around the world, with an English plant transformed by a French name. There’s nothing sweeter than international co-operation. Except, perhaps, armchair travel.

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 23 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Divided Britain