Showing posts with label Beano Niblock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beano Niblock. Show all posts
Christopher Owens ✍ was at the Lyric Theatre, Belfast on 2nd September 2023.

The autumnal sunshine looks favourably upon the Stranmillis Embankment today.

With the oak trees retaining full foliage and the Lagan relatively peaceful (bar the odd Hydrobike making its presence felt), it’s a calm and relaxed Saturday afternoon. The sort we should have had plenty of during July and August. Such is life in this country.

Having undergone extensive renovations in recent years, the Lyric Theatre is a flash, modern building that allows visitors to appreciate the parkland of the Embankment (due to the sizeable windows) but also manages to feel like an integral part of Ridgeway Street (which is down to the front of the building resembling a factory).

These contradictions make it the perfect place for The Man Who Swallowed a Dictionary.

I spoke to Beano a few years ago about his play We Taught Our Children How to Lie, which was being performed in several venues. He told me:

I have been working for years on a play based on the life of Davy Ervine…In fact, over the years, parts of it have been staged at various events so really that should be my next thing to finish. It’s a pet project I suppose and I feel there would be a market for it if I ever get round to completing.

As I write this review, it has been announced that the entire run in the Lyric has sold out.

Thanks to Moore Holmes for the use of this photo
Opening with a rendition of ‘Leaving Dalriada’, actor Paul Garrett does an excellent job of holding the audience captive with his take on Ervine and other figures without anyone getting lost in this one man play. When he takes on the persona of other people, he is able to differentiate them through differing accents, voices (his Gusty Spence was spot on) and mannerisms. It’s a big task for one actor, but Garrett more than delivers.

He’s also kept busy with an action packed script which tells the life story of a kid who grew up in the shadow of the shipyard and was strongly influenced by his father and mother (who, he was fond of noting, were to the left of Stalin and to the right of Genghis Kahn respectively) before the whirling dervish that was the conflict engulfed Ervine, leading him to Long Kesh and constitutional politics, where he garnered acclaim from both sides of the political spectrum.

Beano's script has plenty of his sharp Belfast wit (quite a few jabs at Linfield!) but with moments of solemness and pathos that accentuate the narrative. Such examples are the scenes dealing with his marriage to Jeanette and how they kept their marriage together while in Long Kesh, as well as the relationship with his grandson, Mark (to whom the narrative is addressed).

All of the above is further helped by the stylized direction. With the set consisting of two oversized books opened in the middle (presumably acting as a metaphor for how people come and go but ideas are forever or maybe history coming alive) and a mix of lights, dry ice and sound effects, these augmentations embrace the textual nature of the play format, and the end result is something other worldly, as if you’re witnessing a dream.

One person told me that he had walked out of the play because (in his opinion) Ervine’s role in the UVF was glossed over (a relative of this person was injured in the Rose & Crown Bar bombing in May 1974 and Ed Moloney has tangentially suggested Ervine could have been involved in this attack). Admittedly, the narrative does go from him joining the UVF to being arrested in a matter of seconds. However, I would argue that dissecting his operations for the UVF is not the point of the play. Rather, it is to shed light on the motivations of a complex character and chart the evolution in his thought process as well as look at his family life.

Whether that is acceptable or not is for the individual to decide. For me, it is not the job of the writer to educate and to cover everything in minute detail but to entertain and illuminate the audience. Based on these parameters, The Man Who Swallowed a Dictionary succeeds.

Thanks to Beano Niblock for the use of this photo
An air of sadness hangs over the story, not just because of the personal tragedies and the conflict itself but also for the loss of progressive loyalism, which still exists but certainly not in the same way as when Ervine was alive.

In various obituaries of the man, it was regularly noted that the PUP had lost the prominence it had from 1997 to 2002. The slow demise of the Ulster Unionists and the SDLP, coupled with the rise of Sinn Fein and the DUP (both breaking long held pledges in their pursuit of power) left Ervine and co in no man’s land: seen as too accommodating towards Sinn Fein by loyalists and seen as unreformed terrorists by unionists.

Had he lived to see events from 2010 onwards, how would he have reacted:

- would he have been sidelined like Dawn Purvis?

- would he have gone all in the way Billy Hutchinson did?

- would he have helped to temper fears, ensuring that such flare ups remained minimal?

Obviously, it’s impossible to say with any certainty. However, in his Boston College interviews, he confessed that he was maybe too dismissive of those within Unionism who were fearful about the notion of "Irish culture" being held in higher regard than "British/Unionist culture". Also, this segment is interesting:

We don’t vote … for what we want, we vote against what we don’t want, so the perceived political bulwark against that which you don’t want is the one that’s trawling in all the votes. That rather tells us that you can have all the agreements in the world but unless you’re very mindful of the needs of the broader public the broader public will rebel…The mood music of hatred and bitterness still exists: don’t be soft on the other, if you’re soft or if you’re perceived soft…there’s a price to pay.

Coupled with an admission that the PUP were (at the time of the interviews) going through a “torrid” time, it would seem that Ervine was aware that he would not get what he was struggling for, but he knew that this didn’t mean that he would give up on his beliefs, the very struggle that built him. Not only does this suggest strong principles, but it also brings to mind Jaz Coleman’s line that to understand the meaning of struggle is to realise that it is about “Giving your whole life to a single passion/Which others may or may not/Consider obsolete."

This play reminds us of what we once had, and the political landscape is much poorer without David Ervine.

📜Christopher Owens, 2023. A Vortex Of Securocrats. ASIN: B0BW2XKJS3.

The Man Who Swallowed a Dictionary 🔴 Live Review

Green Shoot Productions We Are Back.

Green Shoot Productions is delighted to re launch The Man Who Swallowed A Dictionary the incredible David Ervine story for its world premier in the Lyric Theatre. 

Matthew McElhinney Directs, starring Paul Garret as David Ervine.

The Man Who Swallowed A Dictionary is a new play written by Bobby Niblock about the life of David Ervine. 

From a Kitchen house to the White House and his years spent in Long Kesh, an amazing story that follows a unique man through his life and his goal of trying to install peace and understanding in a shared society.

Tickets are on sale Now: The Lyric Theatre: Tues 29th Aug - Sun 10th Sep

Please click the link below to book:

The Man Who Swallowed A Dictionary

Christopher Owens 🔖 Sometimes, recent events just help write the review for you. 


Michelle O’Neill’s recent comments about there being “no alternative” to IRA violence has been dissected by various commentators (some of whom pointed to John Hume as a shining example, while ignoring the vitriolic abuse hurled at him 30 years ago for dealing with Sinn Fein) and reassembled in bad faith by various Twitter types who wear the fact that their parents didn’t join a paramilitary organisation as a badge of honour.

To paraphrase Chris Rock, what do you want? A cookie? You're not supposed to join a paramilitary group, you low-expectation-having motherfucker.

It is important to consider that, equally, many loyalist paramilitaries felt there was no alternative. Indeed, the perception among many within loyalism is that it was one of protecting the community and the family, with many discussing how fathers would man barricades by night and then go straight to work when morning came. As Anthony McIntyre has pointed out, the theme of defence crops up constantly in loyalist writings so it is clearly something that cannot be dismissed out of hand.

If we’re going to come to terms with what happened in this country, we need to be honest. And one writer who has been giving an honest voice and personality to loyalism via the arts is Robert ‘Beano’ Niblock, who has published No Milk Today off the back of delivering a book of poetry, a play as well as collaborating with Gareth Mulvenna on various 'Belts and Boots' nights, all of which have been well received.

Niblock describes the book as a selection of stories:

. . . that I have been writing over the years. Most of them are standalone but there is a little connection with a couple of them. You will have spotted the lineage of the two main characters in No Milk Today: revisiting the legacy of the Tartan gangs of the time and the subsequent journey into loyalist paramilitarism-with heavy influence from ‘older men’.

Set in 1973, the story that gives the book its name is a strongly evocative piece, due to the contrast between the youth of the characters (with references to The Sweet and Last Tango in Paris) and the heavy atmosphere of violence, rumours and paranoia (all too prevalent throughout the early years of the conflict). I must admit, I did have a chuckle at a line referring to Last Tango . . .  said by an RUC man while casually interrogating a loyalist hit squad. Such details make for an intoxicating read.

‘O Krok Dalej’ takes on the veneer of a story of mischief and good natured oneupmanship before it goes out of control very quickly. It also, in a way, acts as an inverse of the opening tale ‘Cardinal Sin’ where the beginning of the conflict ends up creating division and suspicion among long term work colleagues. With both tales, Niblock shows how easy it can be for a situation to escalate beyond control, be it external or internal.

As you may have picked up, this is not a book that deals exclusively with our recent past but uses it as a framework for examining working class life and work relationships. Take this excerpt for example:

My driver - Andy Mills - would be there already making sure the loaders had the order just right. Andy was about forty - sound as a pound he was. He’d two kids – daughters - and loved the Arsenal - me and him argued constantly about football. He called me The Yid… Big Terry the yard supervisor was standing-full length brown work coat - a milkman's hat that had seen better days - and a clip board with a blue Biro dangling from a piece of string. Terry was due retirement sometime soon - it was rumoured he’d been here since the milk was delivered by horse and cart for fuck’s sake . . . Nobody wanted to go to Bay Six. Ever. That was definitely a phrase you didn’t want to hear anytime, let alone at five o’clock in the morning . . .  You were paired up with Sammy Smith. Jesus! I’d only been out with him a few times, thank God. The float windows were down all the time because he smoked constantly, but just as well they were down because he stank of B. O . . .  he also farted nonstop but that wasn't his worst habit. No. He had this skill of hawking up these mouthfuls of stuff . . . with a shuddering throaty roar that at least gave you a warning for a globule of phlegm and spit that was aimed out the side window: the passenger window. Through years of practice, most of the time it made it the whole way out. Most of the time. His most disgusting habit, however . . .  well . . . we’ll just leave that one there. His nickname was Pickalicka.

Another thing that springs out is Niblock’s use of dialogue. Staccato, heavy on the Belfast dialect and cut through with an ambiguous tone (is this character being nasty/having a laugh), it captures a piece of Belfast life that not only moves the story along in a swift manner, but is very difficult to replicate without falling into parody or becoming obtrusive for a reader not from the city:

‘“Okay guys-don't wanna be hanging about here all night”.

No one spoke. Or moved.

He turned a chair round back to front and sat on it. His two friends remained standing. Impassive.

“No doubt yez’ve noticed what’s been happening since the turn of the year?”

It was a rhetorical question which he didn't expect an answer to.

And he didn’t.

“Three soldiers . . . Two peelers . . . and three Prods killed . . . and we haven't lifted a finger to do anything about it”.

He straightened up in his chair, took a polo mint out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth.

No one spoke.

There was some fidgeting amongst us until, Roscoe…

“We need to hit back then Bobby . . . that’s what you’re saying”?

“Ten outta ten for paying attention at least”.

Bobby slowly scanned the rest of us seated around the room.

I felt uncomfortable.

He then looked directly at me.

I reddened and felt a cold sweat.

“What’s your name son”?

“Hovis” I stammered.

“What’d’ ya think Hovis”?

“What about Bobby”?

“The price of coal for fuck’s sake”.’


Here we have a scenario that, among other writers, would be played out with stern sincerity. Each participant listening to a charismatic leader whose tone and volume increases as he speaks. With Niblock, he paints a much more realistic scenario where an older man is surrounded by a bunch of teenagers who feel their way of life is under attack and need to hit back, but still have the mentality of teenagers. When that is considered, the loss of life in the conflict takes on an even greater poignancy.

Once again, Niblock hits it out of the park. Not only is this an excellent collection of stories that reflects working class life, the different facets of the male personality in a competitive (or hostile) environment and a Belfast that still holds a grip on the collective psyche fifty years on, but it also does an immense job of adding character and drive to men who have been consigned to history as either faceless killers or grotesque caricatures.

Pickalicka notwithstanding.

Robert ‘Beano’ Niblock, 2022, No Milk Today, ACT Initiative, Privately Published.

⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.

No Milk Today

Christopher Owens is impressed by the poetry of Beano Niblock. 

 
These days, poetry is often underrated. Yet, it's a form unlike any other.

T.S Eliot once claimed that “...genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood” and Allen Ginsberg described the job of the poet as depicting the montage of thoughts when "It's that time of night, lying in bed...making the private world public..." The best poets spark our imagination with less words then an academic text. Hence why some of the most potent anti-war writing came from the trenches of the First World War.

So it's right that the recent conflict serves as Beano Niblock's muse.

Troubles Curriculum has been described by Niblock as covering:

...the years 1969 (when I was 14) to 1973 and charts those days when I was a young gang member and subsequently a teenage paramilitary and young prisoner.

The title itself perfectly sums up that tension that many felt at the time: between a normal life and stepping up to aid your community in such dire times.

The language used throughout is sensory, harsh, bleak and somehow reflective. The reader can feel themselves wandering through these war torn streets, constantly on the look out for suspicious types and wondering where the bliss and tranquillity of childhood went to. Coupled with Niblock's eye for a telling photograph, these poems tell the tale of a descent into hell (even though the narrator does not fully recognise it until the end) as the surroundings around him follow suit.

What immediately jumps out is the frank narrative. No attempt at justification nor romanticism, just stark reality. Take 'Across the Line' as such an example. A moment where "taking the next step" was moving on from childish games into deadly serious adulthood. Something we all face at some point, but rarely does it come with such cold realisation.

The same applies with 'One on B Wing', where the solitude and reality of what the narrator has done hits us in the face. This is the end of the line, for the time being. The starkness sends chills through the body and the old saying "there but for the grace of God go I" as the reader takes into account the full journey.

With only 15 poems, Niblock manages to capture the visceral feelings of those trapped in a war, torn between having a normal life and defending their community. His writing is evocative and immediate, a true working class voice.

Once again, poetry goes where fact cannot.

Robert Niblock, 2019, Troubles Curriculum and Other Poems. ACT Initiative. Privately Published.

⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland.

Troubles Curriculum

Robert Niblock answers thirteen questions in a Booker's Dozen.



TPQ: What are you currently reading? 

RN: This is Memorial Device David Keenan.

TPQ: Best book you have ever read?

RN: In Cold Blood by Truman Capote.

TPQ: A must-read before you die? 

RN: Doesn’t apply. If I haven’t attempted to read it by now, it’s not on my radar.

TPQ: A preference for fact or fiction? 

RN: Fiction.

TPQ: Favourite female author? 

RN: Harper Lee.

TPQ: Favourite male author? 

RN: George V Higgins.

TPQ: First book you ever read?

RN: Moonfleet by J Meade Falkner.

TPQ: Favourite childhood author? 

RN: Robert Louis Stephenson.

TPQ: Any book you point blank refuse to read? 

RN: No.

TPQ: Any author you point blank refuse to read? 

RN: No.

TPQ: Pick a book to give to somebody so that they would more fully understand you. 

RN: My next book of poems/prose.

TPQ: Last book you gave as a present? 

RN: Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe.

TPQ: Book you would most like to see turned into a movie? 

RN: For The Good Times David Keenan.

⏭ Beano Niblock lives and works in East Belfast. He writes drama, short stories poetry and prose. 

Booker’s Dozen @ Robert Niblock

Christopher Owens interviews Gareth Mulvenna and Beano Niblock about an upcoming event in East Belfast. 

Belts And Boots

’71

Rift

Beano Niblock reviews The Rocky Road by Eamon Dunphy. A former loyalist prisoner, Beano Niblock is now a writer. 

The Rocky Road