Writing about writing a book – Research

Day 25 – Research involving the protagonist’s friend – a man who can disassociate from the past, but cannot, for the time being, bring himself back into the real world except when there is a job that interests him (not all that often)

The Exile in Suburbia: Deconstructing the Phenomenological Transformation of the Senseless War Veteran

Abstract

This paper examines the complex psychological and behavioural transformation of the so-called “normal man” who experiences a “senseless war,” tracing his journey from conventional societal integration to profound post-war dissociation and isolation. Utilising frameworks of Moral Injury (MI), Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD), and theories of functional survivability under extreme stress, this analysis details how the protagonist’s evolving awareness of the war’s meaninglessness precipitates a shift towards anti-authoritarianism, localised heroism, and a paradoxical cycle of valour and punishment. The paper posits that the necessary adaptations required for survival in the combat theatre—namely, functional disconnection—render the veteran incapable of reintegrating into the sterile predictability of suburban life, ultimately leading to disassociation and social hermitage.


1. Introduction: Defining Normalcy and the War Crucible

The figure of the returning veteran, particularly one scarred by conflicts perceived as strategically or morally ambiguous, serves as a critical case study in the interaction between individual psyche and state violence. The initial state of the protagonist—the “normal man”—represents a foundation of unchallenged social conformity, ready to accept the state-sanctioned narrative of the conflict. This normalcy acts as a tabula rasa upon which the trauma of war is inscribed.

This paper addresses the central question: How does an individual, subjected to the cognitive dissonance of participating in a morally bankrupt conflict, navigate extreme behavioural shifts (anti-authority, heroism, criminality), maintain functional capacity despite internal fragmentation, and ultimately fail to re-establish a foothold in civilian society?

This analysis proceeds through four phases: (1) The shattering of the initial narrative; (2) The functional paradox of wartime behaviour (heroism and defiance); (3) The mechanisms of sustained function; and (4) The failure of reintegration and subsequent dissociation. The core thesis is that the moral clarity and anti-institutional identity forged in the senseless war become antithetical to the shallow morality and conformity required for suburban existence, forcing the veteran into isolated exile.

2. The Shattering Narrative: From Conformity to Moral Injury

2.1. The Erosion of Initial Belief

The transition from a conflict perceived as necessary to one recognised as “senseless” is the critical inciting incident for the protagonist’s shift. Initially, the man is supported by the prevailing ideologies of duty, honour, and national interest. As the reality of the war unfolds—characterized by arbitrary violence, unclear objectives, and high costs for negligible gains—the foundational military narrative collapses.

This collapse initiates Moral Injury (MI), a concept extending beyond PTSD, defined by Shay (1994) as the violation of core moral beliefs by oneself or others in positions of legitimate authority. The protagonist witnesses or is forced to participate in acts that violate his deepest ethical standards, often under the direct order of the hierarchy he is supposed to respect.

2.2. The Emergence of Anti-Authority

The systemic realisation of the war’s senselessness directly implicates the military command structure as incompetent or malicious. The protagonist’s initial acceptance of authority transforms into deep-seated mistrust and outright rejection. This anti-authority stance is not merely insubordination; it is a profound moral judgment.

The soldier realises that survival and ethical action often require bypassing or actively resisting the institutional chain of command. This rejection serves as a psychological defence mechanism, creating an internal locus of control and moral clarity separate from the confusing and often criminal official mission. This anti-authoritarian identity becomes pathognomonic of his wartime experience.

3. The Paradox of Functional Disconnection: Heroism and the Stockade

3.1. Localised Heroism and Survival

Paradoxically, the individual’s profound disconnection from the large institutional mission often fuels intense, localised loyalty. Heroism in the senseless war is rarely motivated by national strategic goals; it is driven by the immediate, visceral need to protect the small unit (the “band of brothers”).

These acts of bravery, defined by extraordinary courage in the face of imminent danger (“incredible odds”), are sudden eruptions of moral action. There are instances where the protagonist’s self-efficacy and moral imperative align perfectly with the localised need for survival, temporarily overcoming the pervasive feeling of meaninglessness.

3.2. The Vicious Cycle: Valour, Defiance, and Punishment

The protagonist is trapped in a cognitive dissonance loop created by the institution:

  1. Valour: The soldier acts heroically, often defying orders to save lives or complete a necessary mission locally.
  2. Defiance: His heroism often involves clear insubordination or violation of regulation (driven by anti-authority).
  3. Punishment: The same institution that benefits from his skill immediately penalises him for his independence and defiance (e.g., “one minute in the stockade the next”).

This cycle reinforces the veteran’s identity as an outsider and validates his anti-authority belief. The stockade is not just punishment; it is institutional confirmation that the military values blind obedience over moral action or effectiveness. The individual learns that the only reliable moral compass is his internal system, further isolating him from the command structure.

3.3. Mechanisms of Sustained Function

Despite profound psychological fragmentation, the protagonist “still function[s] at a certain level.” This sustained capacity is explained by several survival mechanisms (Grossman, 1995):

  • Compartmentalisation: The ability to mentally wall off the emotional and moral horror of the war while executing complex tasks (e.g., combat maneuvers).
  • Dissociative Adaptation: Minor dissociation during key stress periods allows the body to act autonomously, often referred to as “autopilot.”
  • Hyper-Vigilance: An intense, focus-driven awareness that ironically enhances combat performance but is destructive in peacetime.

These adaptations, crucial for physical survival, come at the cost of unified psychological integrity. The soldier survives by functionally disconnecting the self that acts from the self that feels.

4. The Exile in Suburbia: Dissociation and Alienation

4.1. The Incompatibility of Worlds

Returning home places the veteran in the “suburban setting,” a space characterised by material comfort, routine, and a pervasive societal pressure to perform “normalcy.” This environment is the psychological antithesis of the war zone.

The war-forged identity—defined by urgency, moral extremity, quick judgments, and anti-authoritarianism—is utterly incompatible with the expectations of quiet compliance and banal consumerism inherent to the suburb. He is fluent in the language of survival but mute in the language of small talk and routine.

4.2. Disassociation and Hermitage

The failure of reintegration manifests primarily as disassociation. The veteran has experienced a profound shattering of the ego, exacerbated by the required compartmentalisation during the war. Back home, where the extreme stimuli are absent, the mind struggles to unify the memories and the current environment.

Dissociation functions as a means of self-preservation:

  • Emotional Numbing: The veteran restricts emotional engagement to avoid the overwhelming anxiety triggered by the banal nature of civilian life, which feels insignificant or ridiculous compared to the stakes of war.
  • Depersonalization: He may feel detached from his own body or actions, observing his life from a distance.
  • Isolation (Hermitage): The decision to become “almost a hermit” is a logical extension of his disassociation. He seeks to minimize external stimuli and interaction because the required emotional work to fake normalcy is too taxing. He withdraws to the only space where his authentic, morally injured self can exist without constant performance—a private, silent exile within his own home.

4.3. Existential Alienation

Beyond clinical dissociation, the veteran suffers from acute Existential Alienation. His realisation of the war’s meaninglessness stripped him of easy answers about human purpose and morality. He returns to a society that has retained its comfortable illusions, talking about trivial matters while he carries the burden of undeniable truths about human cruelty and bureaucratic indifference.

The suburban setting, therefore, does not offer peaceful refuge; it becomes a constant reminder of the profound gulf between his lived experience and the sanitised reality of home. His refusal to participate in the suburban performance is a silent, but profound, act of anti-authority against the collective delusion of peaceful Western life.

5. Conclusion

The journey of the “normal man” through a senseless war is a compelling illustration of psychological disintegration under extreme moral and physical duress. His eventual transformation into an anti-authoritarian hero, fluctuating between valour and punishment, is not random but a coherent moral response to institutional failure. The survival mechanisms developed—functional disconnection and profound compartmentalisation—ultimately doom his attempt at civilian life.

The final state of the veteran, the disassociative hermit in suburbia, is the tragic outcome of a man who achieved a terrifying moral clarity in chaos, yet finds that clarity disqualifying in peace. His isolation is not a sign of failure but a determined refusal to sacrifice the painful truths he earned for the hollow comfort of societal reintegration. Further research is necessary to explore effective therapeutic interventions that address Moral Injury and facilitate the reintegration of the wartime identity into a stable civilian self.

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 43

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.

 

The hut was a barracks, with bedding and ablutions for twenty men.  Since this was one of two, I assumed the other hut housed the twenty soldiers that the Colonel had alluded to.  There would be no more than one or two others including the Captain.

Hopefully, there were not more in Nagero.

The two hostages had been taken to the Captain’s office where I assumed there was probably a brig for them to be locked in.  Not quite what I was expecting, but no plan was ever perfect.

I went to the rear and sat down at a table that could accommodate about ten.

Davies and Shurl joined me.

I looked at Shurl.  “Good work, and glad they didn’t shoot you.”

“So am I.  Monroe had joined the others.  I had to make a lot of noise before they found me, so I don’t think this is a crack troop.”

“The Captain, or whatever he is, looks sharp,” Davies said.

“New command perhaps.  Can’t believe his luck, I’m guessing.  Did you get a look at the plane?”

“As much as I could without looking like I was looking at it.  It’s been well maintained, and I have no doubt we can get it off the ground.  It just depends if we need help to get the engines started.  It’s possible they don’t, though it’s not usual for this type of plane.  We shall see when the time comes.”

“Can you take off at night?”

“It’s a bit dangerous without lights.  I see they have a lighting system, so I suggest, if and when we break out of here you get someone to find the switch.”

“Noted.”

“Any idea when that’ll be?”

“I’m sure we have people working on that as we speak.”

The door at the entrance to the hut opened and the Captain stood next to his officer, with a gun pointed loosely in our direction, just in case we got the idea we could escape.

“Mr. James.  Time to tell me all about your escape plans.”

“I’m not so sure they could be called that, now.”

His tone hardened.  “Don’t keep me waiting.  I have people waiting for my report.”

I shrugged and got up.  “Just make sure everyone is ready to move when the time comes.  Tell Baines that I expect him to find the generator and get the lights working.”

The Captain’s impatient look told me not to keep him waiting any longer.

The Captain led the way, and his officer kept the gun pointed at me, just in case of what I’m not sure.  Inside his office, rather spacious, and with a door which likely led to some form of accommodation and the brig where the hostages were being held.  The door was closed so I couldn’t see, so it had to be an assumption.

The officer remained in the doorway, while the Captain sat behind a large desk, and gestured for me to sit the other side.  It didn’t look like a comfortable chair.

I thought I’d start the ball rolling.  “I’m assuming that there isn’t always an army guard on this airstrip?”

“No.  When we heard you were coming for the prisoners, a detachment was sent.  Fortuitous wouldn’t you say?”

“For who.”  Time to sow some seeds of discontent.

“What do you mean Mr. James?”

“Your mate back at the militia camp just pocketed two million US dollars’ worth of diamonds for those two men.  What was your cut?”

A shocked look, one that eased back into benign slowly.  No cut from that look, I’d say.

“We pride ourselves on being above bribery.  That was the old way of doing things.”

“Clearly the militia don’t agree.  Are you going to give them back to the commander so he can raffle them again?”

The Captain didn’t seem to understand the word ‘raffle’.

“Sell them back to us for another two million.  Maybe you should talk to your superiors and see what they think.  If you left us go, I can arrange for five million, for you and your friends to share.”

Disdain, or disappointment.

“What did I just say about bribery.”

“That it’s not the way things are done.  Maybe not in the capital, but this is the boondocks, and you’re the man in charge.  Five million can go a long way, but I suspect if you tell your superiors, you won’t get to see any of it.  Or perhaps you should take a few men over to the Militia commander’s camp and demand your share, or just take it.  After all, Captain, who is in charge of this sector, him or you?”

At least he was thinking about it.  Five million was a lot of money, but in US dollars, that could take him anywhere.

I remembered my old instructor saying, one, ‘every man has his price’.

I just had to find the Captains.

“Aside from trying to bribe me, Mr. James, what were you hoping to achieve here?”

“A rescue.  I know we tried once before and not succeeded, but you know how it is, if you at first don’t succeed, try, try, try again.”

“That it failed before should be a warning that we are not as weak as you might think we are.  The US Army is not necessarily the best in the world.”

“So I’m beginning to discover.  Did we train you?”

“No.  I spent some time in England, training with the British Army.”

So that was where he got his accent and ramrod stiff never a crease out of place posture.

“But,” he said, “this not about me, but you.  And your so-called film crew.  How did you expect top escape through this airstrip, flights are restricted, and you can’t possibly fly in a Hercules?  The runway is not long enough.

“No, we were hoping for something a bit smaller than that, but we’ll find out tomorrow what it is.  I’ll be standing on the patio looking as surprised as you are when it arrives.  Now, let me ask you a question.  Do you know who those men are that you have in detention?”

“Militia prisoners.”

“For doing what?”

“I don’t ask questions.  I obey orders.

“Then I’ll tell you.  They were trying to set up a trade agreement for some precious metal you have in abundance here.  Good for the country for income, and employment.  Might even help you get on better terms with the rest of the world.  Unless of course, you don’t want to.”

“I am a soldier, not a politician.  That’s their problem.  I was told to hold you until my superiors arrive.”

“Who told you?”

“The Colonel.  He’s based in Ada.”

So, we had a leak.  Surprising given the limited circulation of the plan.  It might be down to Jacobi, but somehow, I didn’t think it was him.  He had several opportunities to turn on us and he didn’t.

“So, you’re saying we basically drove into a trap?”

“Yes.  So much for the smart Americans who have all the technology and answers.

I could understand his contempt, especially when the attempt had failed so badly.  Pity then he didn’t understand what was about to happen to him.

© Charles Heath 2020

Writing a book in 365 days – 307

Day 307

What can be explained is not poetry

The Unexplainable Truth: Why Yeats Said ‘What Can Be Explained Is Not Poetry’

W.B. Yeats, the towering figure of Irish literature and a Nobel laureate, often seemed to speak in riddles that contained profound universal truths. One such truth, delivered not from a stage but in a quiet moment with his son, Michael, cuts directly to the soul of creativity:

“What can be explained is not poetry.”

This deceptively simple statement is not merely a critique of literary analysis; it is a philosophy of art, a defence of mystery, and a guide for how we must approach the most cherished parts of our existence.

If poetry is built from words—the very tools of explanation—how can the final product simultaneously resist understanding? The answer lies in the fundamental difference between information and resonance.


1. The Reductionist Trap: Explanation as Destruction

When Yeats dismisses explanation, he is pushing back against the modern impulse to dissect, categorise, and summarise. Explanation seeks clarity, certainty, and a definitive endpoint. It wants to give you the meaning in a neat bullet point.

But for the poet, this act of definition is fatal.

Think of a poem like Yeats’s own “The Second Coming.” If you were asked to explain it, you might say: “It is about the breakdown of societal order, historical cycles, and the fear of a looming, savage future.” This is factually correct. But by the time you have finished this explanation, the poem itself—the terrifying rhythm, the shocking image of the “blood-dimmed tide,” the sheer visceral dread of the “rough beast, its hour come round at last”—has completely evaporated.

The Elements That Resist Explanation:

  • Rhythm and Sound: Poetry operates on the level of music. You can explain the notes on a score, but you cannot explain the feeling of the music’s vibration in your chest.
  • Ambiguity: A great poem holds multiple, often contradictory, truths simultaneously. Explanation forces a choice, killing the rich tension that gives the poem its power.
  • The Ineffable: Poetry deals in the realm of the subconscious, the spiritual, and the deeply felt human condition—areas that words can only point toward, never fully capture.

As the great poet Archibald MacLeish wrote, “A poem should not mean / But be.” If you can swap a poem for a paragraph of summarised meaning without losing anything vital, it was never truly poetry to begin with.


2. The Domain of True Art: Mystery and Aura

If explanation is the enemy, what elevates language into poetry? It is the successful creation of Aura—that inexplicable shimmer of authenticity and power surrounding a work of art.

Poetry, painting, and music—when successful—establish an immediate, emotional connection that bypasses the logical mind. They don’t give us facts; they provide us with an experience of being human.

A true poem resonates because it touches a nerve we didn’t know existed. It uses familiar words in unfamiliar arrangements that create a shock of recognition: Ah, yes, I have felt that thing, though I lacked the words for it.

This resonance cannot be taught, explained, or quantified. It is a mystery that the poet labors to create, and a mystery the reader must consent to receive. The poem’s job is to compel you to stop asking why and simply start feeling.

Art as a Sacred Language

For Yeats, an artist and a mystic, poetry was a sacred endeavour that tapped into universal symbols and mythic memory. This is why his poems are so dense with swans, spirals, gyres, and masks. These are not symbols to be easily decoded; they are portals meant to shift the reader’s consciousness.

To demand an explanation of a spiritual experience is to completely misunderstand the nature of the sacred. Yeats viewed poetry in the same light.


3. Beyond the Poem: Embracing the Unexplained Life

Yeats’s dictum is not just a lesson for the classroom; it is a profound commentary on how we live. The things we value most highly in life are often the things that defy bullet points and clear definitions.

If we can fully explain something, we often lose our sense of wonder for it. The minute we treat life as a logical equation, we forfeit the magic.

Love, Grief, and Beauty

Consider the deepest human experiences:

  1. Love: Can you truly explain why you love a particular person? You can list their qualities (kindness, intelligence), but those are merely the ingredients. The love itself—the specific, irrational, overwhelming devotion—is the chemical reaction that cannot be explained. If it could, it would be a transaction, not love.
  2. Beauty: Why is a specific sunset breathtaking? You can explain the atmospheric condition, the refraction of light, and the Rayleigh scattering effect. But none of that science touches the awe you feel when watching the sky turn orange.
  3. Grief: Grief is not a set of stages to be rationally completed; it is a primal force that washes over you. No explanation can contain the depth of loss.

These are the poetic aspects of life. They are what make living rich, maddening, and profoundly meaningful. They require us to accept ambiguity and to tolerate the fact that the most important truths lie just beyond the reach of language.


The Call to Wonder

Yeats’s quiet lesson to his son remains a powerful challenge to us today: In an age where every phenomenon is instantly broken down by algorithms and summarised in 280 characters, are we losing our capacity for wonder?

If we insist on explaining everything, we risk reducing the rich tapestry of existence to a dry instruction manual.

True poetry—in literature and in life—requires us to put down the defining pencil, step away from the summary, and simply stand in the presence of the powerful, beautiful, bewildering thing that is.

The challenge of the reader, the lover, and the appreciative human being is to honour the mystery that remains when all the explanations have failed.

What truths in your life have you accepted as unexplainable? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Berlin

Berlin’s Best-Kept Secrets: 5 Distinctive Attractions Beyond the Crowds

Berlin is a city that pulsates with history, art, and an undeniable energy. From the Brandenburg Gate to Museum Island, its iconic landmarks draw millions of visitors each year. But what if you crave a deeper, more intimate connection with the German capital? What if you want to explore places that offer unique character without fighting through throngs of tourists?

Fear not, intrepid explorer! Berlin is a treasure trove of distinctive attractions that, while captivating, manage to remain refreshingly uncrowded. Step off the well-trodden path and discover these five fantastic spots where you can soak in the atmosphere, history, and beauty at your own pace.


1. Tempelhofer Feld (Tempelhof Field)

Imagine a vast, open expanse in the middle of a bustling city – a former airport transformed into Berlin’s largest urban park. That’s Tempelhofer Feld. Once the site of the Berlin Airlift, this historic tarmac now serves as a unique recreational space where locals and savvy visitors come to fly kites, cycle, rollerblade, garden in community plots, or simply wander and feel the incredible sense of freedom.

Why it’s distinctive: Its sheer scale and stark, industrial beauty are unlike any other park. You can walk or cycle down the actual runways, feeling the ghosts of history under your feet, while enjoying panoramic views of the city skyline. It’s a testament to Berlin’s ability to repurpose its past into vibrant public spaces. Crowd factor: Its immense size ensures you’ll always find quiet corners, even on sunny weekends.


2. Gärten der Welt (Gardens of the World)

Tucked away in the eastern district of Marzahn-Hellersdorf, the “Gardens of the World” is an absolutely stunning, often-overlooked masterpiece of landscape architecture. This sprawling park features meticulously designed themed gardens from around the globe, including an authentic Chinese Garden, a peaceful Japanese Garden, a vibrant Balinese Garden, an English Tudor Rose Garden, and many more.

Why it’s distinctive: It’s a journey around the world in one park! Each garden is an exquisite representation of its cultural heritage, complete with traditional architecture, plants, and water features. The park also boasts a cable car (Seilbahn) that offers fantastic aerial views, adding an extra layer of unique experience. Crowd factor: Due to its location slightly outside the central tourist areas, it attracts primarily locals and those in the know, making for a serene and contemplative visit.


3. Teufelsberg (Devil’s Mountain)

For a taste of Cold War history, street art, and incredible views, head to Teufelsberg. This artificial hill, built from post-WWII rubble, housed a crucial US listening station during the Cold War. Today, the abandoned NSA facility stands as a captivating, eerie ruin, its iconic radar domes covered in vibrant graffiti art.

Why it’s distinctive: It’s a fascinating blend of history, urban exploration, and an open-air art gallery. You can wander through the former listening posts, climb the towers (at your own risk or with permission) for panoramic views across Berlin and Brandenburg, and marvel at the ever-evolving street art. It feels like stepping into a forgotten movie set. Crowd factor: While it has become more popular, its somewhat rugged approach (a short hike up a hill) and relatively low-key management keep the crowds sparse compared to central attractions.


4. Gedenkstätte Berlin-Hohenschönhausen (Stasi Prison Memorial)

This is not a light-hearted attraction, but it is profoundly distinctive and essential for understanding a darker chapter of Berlin’s history. Hohenschönhausen was the main remand prison of the East German secret police (Stasi) where political dissidents were interrogated and tortured. Today, it stands as a powerful memorial and museum.

Why it’s distinctive: The tours, often led by former prisoners or knowledgeable guides, offer an incredibly vivid and harrowing insight into the mechanisms of state oppression. You walk through original cells, interrogation rooms, and work areas, preserving an unvarnished and chilling historical record. It’s a sombre but vital experience that leaves a lasting impression. Crowd factor: While guided tours can have small groups, it’s a quiet, respectful atmosphere, far removed from the general tourist bustle. It demands contemplation, not quick photos.


5. Charlottenburg Palace & Gardens (Focusing on the Gardens & Belvedere)

While Charlottenburg Palace itself can draw a fair number of visitors, its magnificent Baroque gardens and charming subsidiary buildings offer expansive, less-crowded opportunities for exploration. The main palace tickets might have queues, but the vast grounds are free to roam and offer a regal escape.

Why it’s distinctive: As the largest and most significant palace in Berlin, it offers a glimpse into Prussian royal grandeur. But it’s the sheer scale and beauty of the meticulously landscaped gardens – complete with fountains, statues, a charming Orangery, and the tranquil Belvedere teahouse – that truly delight. The Belvedere, housing an exquisite porcelain collection, is often quiet and offers lovely views over the river Spree. Crowd factor: The gardens are so extensive that it’s easy to find solitude, especially away from the main palace entrance. The smaller museums like the Belvedere are also often blissfully uncrowded.


Berlin truly rewards those who are willing to venture slightly beyond the obvious. These five distinctive attractions offer rich historical narratives, breathtaking beauty, and unique experiences – all without the pressing crowds. So, next time you plan a trip to Berlin, consider stepping off the beaten path and uncovering a few of the city’s best-kept secrets. You might just find your new favourite spot.

What I learned about writing – It is easy to get lost in your make-believe world.

It seems that we can be completely focused on a single task to the detriment of all else, and, when that task is complete, suddenly we feel totally drained.

That’s how I feel right now.

The current year is almost half over…  Where did the time go?

All I have to do is get past the publication of my next two books, take some time away from writing, and then I should be invigorated.  Perhaps COVID had something to do with it because I found it very easy to get lost in and stay in my new imaginary world,  rather than the horrible new world that had been thrust upon us, with more heads down and tail up, with nowhere to go, no travel to plan, and not able to go anywhere.

This is despite our fearless leaders telling us that COVID is no longer a problem, which it probably isn’t, but what do I care?  And for computer programmers who never leave their semi-darkened lair, ordering pizza and Coke, it must have been a Godsend.

Given that I prefer to be at home, working on any number of stories, it usually is for me too.

But have I been working too hard, and it’s finally got to me?  I mean, you can only write so much before the brain starts to fry?  Or you disappear down that proverbial rabbit hole and gradually turn into the character.

I have been working on the two novels that needed to be completed, and they are finally there. And other than NaNoWriMo, which saw another go through the mill, I’m still writing a few pages a night, and another two that I have been working on here and there are now ready for the first edit.

This has all happened to the detriment of my episodic stories, which have lain idle for almost a year, but in recent weeks I picked up one or two and wrote two or three more episodes, just to keep it ticking over.  Another has five episodes, and I hope to publish them soon.  The last I’ve finally finished, and I am feeling pleased with myself.  My editor has it now.

Something else that pleases me, and is entirely unexpected, is that I have sold several copies of my books in the last few months or so.  I know I’m not about to be vying for the top of the bestseller list, but it’s still satisfying.

Coming soon – “Strangers We’ve Become”, the sequel to “What Sets Us Apart”

Stranger’s We’ve Become, a sequel to What Sets Us Apart.

The blurb:

Is she or isn’t she, that is the question!

Susan has returned to David, but he is having difficulty dealing with the changes. Her time in captivity has changed her markedly, so much so that David decides to give her some time and space to re-adjust back into normal life.

But doubts about whether he chose the real Susan remain.

In the meantime, David has to deal with Susan’s new security chief, the discovery of her rebuilding a palace in Russia, evidence of an affair, and several attempts on his life. And, once again, David is drawn into another of Predergast’s games, one that could ultimately prove fatal.

From being reunited with the enigmatic Alisha, a strange visit to Susan’s country estate, to Russia and back, to a rescue mission in Nigeria, David soon discovers those whom he thought he could trust each has their own agenda, one that apparently doesn’t include him.

The Cover:

strangerscover9

Coming soon

 

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Warsaw

Beyond the Big Five: Warsaw’s Hidden Gems That Will Captivate You (Without the Crowds)

Warsaw is a city that whispers tales of resilience and rebirth, and while the Royal Castle and the Old Town Market Square rightfully draw admirers, there’s a magic to be found in its less-trodden paths. If you’re looking to experience the true soul of the Polish capital without battling a sea of selfie sticks, then this list is for you. Forget the predictable queues; we’re diving into Warsaw’s top five tourist attractions that boast distinctive charm and a serene atmosphere.

Here are five must-visit spots that offer a unique perspective on Warsaw, perfect for the discerning traveller:

1. The Palace of Culture and Science – The Observatory Deck (and beyond!)

Yes, the Palace of Culture and Science is a prominent landmark, but many visitors only see its imposing exterior. The real magic for those seeking fewer crowds lies in its observatory deck on the 30th floor. While it’s a known spot, it rarely experiences the overwhelming throngs of other city viewpoints. The 360-degree panorama of Warsaw from here is breathtaking, particularly at sunset when the city lights begin to twinkle.

Why it’s distinctive: It’s not just the view; it’s the architectural style (a controversial “gift” from the Soviet Union) and the sheer scale of the building that make it a talking point. Venture beyond the deck, and you’ll find cinema complexes, theatres, and museums within its walls, offering a glimpse into Warsaw’s cultural heart without the typical tourist hustle.

2. POLIN Museum of the History of Polish Jews – Immersive Storytelling

While gaining well-deserved recognition, the POLIN Museum is often overlooked by those solely focused on pre-war history. This isn’t just a museum; it’s an immersive journey through a thousand years of Jewish life in Poland. Through stunning architectural design and innovative exhibits, you’ll walk through recreated historical spaces, interact with multimedia displays, and gain a profound understanding of a community that shaped Polish heritage.

Why it’s distinctive: The sheer scale and ambition of its narrative, covering centuries of history, art, and culture. It’s a space that educates, inspires, and often deeply moves visitors. The building itself is a masterpiece, representing a modern interpretation of Jewish heritage.

3. Łazienki Park – Royal Retreat and Artistic Haven

Łazienki Park is Warsaw’s largest green space, and while it’s a popular spot for locals, it rarely feels overrun by tourists. This 18th-century royal complex is a tranquil oasis, featuring opulent palaces, charming gardens, and an amphitheatre. The iconic Palace on the Isle, perched on a picturesque lake, is a sight to behold. You might even spot some resident peacocks strutting their stuff!

Why it’s distinctive: It’s a harmonious blend of natural beauty and neoclassical architecture. Unlike meticulously manicured gardens, Łazienki Park feels like a truly lived-in royal retreat. The open-air Chopin concerts held here in the summer (check schedules!) are a truly magical experience, usually with plenty of space to spread out.

4. The Neon Museum – A Vibrant Flashback

Step into a world of glowing colours and retro charm at the Neon Museum. This unique institution showcases remnants of the Cold War era’s communist-era neon signs, meticulously restored and displayed within a former factory. It’s a visually striking and surprisingly poignant collection that tells a story of Polish urbanism and design during a specific historical period.

Why it’s distinctive: It’s an unconventional museum dedicated to a specific, visually captivating art form. The sheer density of vibrant, luminous signs creates an unforgettable atmosphere. It’s a photographer’s dream and a fascinating glimpse into a bygone era of Polish advertising and urban character.

5. Praga District – The Authentic “Wild East”

For a truly authentic Warsaw experience, venture across the Vistula River to the Praga district. Once considered the “wild east” of Warsaw, Praga has retained much of its pre-war architectural character, with crumbling facades, hidden courtyards, and a distinct bohemian vibe. It’s a stark contrast to the meticulously reconstructed Old Town and offers a more raw, gritty, and intriguing side of the city.

Why it’s distinctive: It’s a living testament to Warsaw’s pre-war past, defying the city’s narrative of complete destruction and reconstruction. Explore its intricate street art, independent galleries, and charming cafes for a taste of Warsaw’s evolving artistic scene. Take a guided walking tour to truly appreciate the hidden stories etched into its buildings.


So, next time you find yourself in Warsaw, dare to stray from the beaten path. These five attractions offer not just unique sights, but also a chance to connect with the city’s diverse history, vibrant culture, and captivating spirit, all without the overwhelming crowds. Happy exploring!

The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

Get it here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

Writing a book in 365 days – 307

Day 307

What can be explained is not poetry

The Unexplainable Truth: Why Yeats Said ‘What Can Be Explained Is Not Poetry’

W.B. Yeats, the towering figure of Irish literature and a Nobel laureate, often seemed to speak in riddles that contained profound universal truths. One such truth, delivered not from a stage but in a quiet moment with his son, Michael, cuts directly to the soul of creativity:

“What can be explained is not poetry.”

This deceptively simple statement is not merely a critique of literary analysis; it is a philosophy of art, a defence of mystery, and a guide for how we must approach the most cherished parts of our existence.

If poetry is built from words—the very tools of explanation—how can the final product simultaneously resist understanding? The answer lies in the fundamental difference between information and resonance.


1. The Reductionist Trap: Explanation as Destruction

When Yeats dismisses explanation, he is pushing back against the modern impulse to dissect, categorise, and summarise. Explanation seeks clarity, certainty, and a definitive endpoint. It wants to give you the meaning in a neat bullet point.

But for the poet, this act of definition is fatal.

Think of a poem like Yeats’s own “The Second Coming.” If you were asked to explain it, you might say: “It is about the breakdown of societal order, historical cycles, and the fear of a looming, savage future.” This is factually correct. But by the time you have finished this explanation, the poem itself—the terrifying rhythm, the shocking image of the “blood-dimmed tide,” the sheer visceral dread of the “rough beast, its hour come round at last”—has completely evaporated.

The Elements That Resist Explanation:

  • Rhythm and Sound: Poetry operates on the level of music. You can explain the notes on a score, but you cannot explain the feeling of the music’s vibration in your chest.
  • Ambiguity: A great poem holds multiple, often contradictory, truths simultaneously. Explanation forces a choice, killing the rich tension that gives the poem its power.
  • The Ineffable: Poetry deals in the realm of the subconscious, the spiritual, and the deeply felt human condition—areas that words can only point toward, never fully capture.

As the great poet Archibald MacLeish wrote, “A poem should not mean / But be.” If you can swap a poem for a paragraph of summarised meaning without losing anything vital, it was never truly poetry to begin with.


2. The Domain of True Art: Mystery and Aura

If explanation is the enemy, what elevates language into poetry? It is the successful creation of Aura—that inexplicable shimmer of authenticity and power surrounding a work of art.

Poetry, painting, and music—when successful—establish an immediate, emotional connection that bypasses the logical mind. They don’t give us facts; they provide us with an experience of being human.

A true poem resonates because it touches a nerve we didn’t know existed. It uses familiar words in unfamiliar arrangements that create a shock of recognition: Ah, yes, I have felt that thing, though I lacked the words for it.

This resonance cannot be taught, explained, or quantified. It is a mystery that the poet labors to create, and a mystery the reader must consent to receive. The poem’s job is to compel you to stop asking why and simply start feeling.

Art as a Sacred Language

For Yeats, an artist and a mystic, poetry was a sacred endeavour that tapped into universal symbols and mythic memory. This is why his poems are so dense with swans, spirals, gyres, and masks. These are not symbols to be easily decoded; they are portals meant to shift the reader’s consciousness.

To demand an explanation of a spiritual experience is to completely misunderstand the nature of the sacred. Yeats viewed poetry in the same light.


3. Beyond the Poem: Embracing the Unexplained Life

Yeats’s dictum is not just a lesson for the classroom; it is a profound commentary on how we live. The things we value most highly in life are often the things that defy bullet points and clear definitions.

If we can fully explain something, we often lose our sense of wonder for it. The minute we treat life as a logical equation, we forfeit the magic.

Love, Grief, and Beauty

Consider the deepest human experiences:

  1. Love: Can you truly explain why you love a particular person? You can list their qualities (kindness, intelligence), but those are merely the ingredients. The love itself—the specific, irrational, overwhelming devotion—is the chemical reaction that cannot be explained. If it could, it would be a transaction, not love.
  2. Beauty: Why is a specific sunset breathtaking? You can explain the atmospheric condition, the refraction of light, and the Rayleigh scattering effect. But none of that science touches the awe you feel when watching the sky turn orange.
  3. Grief: Grief is not a set of stages to be rationally completed; it is a primal force that washes over you. No explanation can contain the depth of loss.

These are the poetic aspects of life. They are what make living rich, maddening, and profoundly meaningful. They require us to accept ambiguity and to tolerate the fact that the most important truths lie just beyond the reach of language.


The Call to Wonder

Yeats’s quiet lesson to his son remains a powerful challenge to us today: In an age where every phenomenon is instantly broken down by algorithms and summarised in 280 characters, are we losing our capacity for wonder?

If we insist on explaining everything, we risk reducing the rich tapestry of existence to a dry instruction manual.

True poetry—in literature and in life—requires us to put down the defining pencil, step away from the summary, and simply stand in the presence of the powerful, beautiful, bewildering thing that is.

The challenge of the reader, the lover, and the appreciative human being is to honour the mystery that remains when all the explanations have failed.

What truths in your life have you accepted as unexplainable? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

When Harry took the time to consider his position, a rather uncomfortable position at that, he concluded that he was somehow involved in another case that meant very little to him.

Not that it wasn’t important in some way he was yet to determine, it was just that his curiosity had got the better of him, and it had led to this: sitting in a chair, securely bound, waiting for someone one of his captors had called Doug.

It was not the name that worried him so much, it was the evil laugh that had come after the name was spoken.

Doug what? Doug the ‘destroyer’, Doug the ‘dangerous’, Doug the ‘deadly’; there was any number of sinister connotations, and perhaps that was the point of the laugh, to make it more frightening than it was.

But there was no doubt about one thing in his mind right then: he’d made a mistake. A very big. and costly, mistake. Just how big the cost, no doubt he would soon find out.

His mother, and his grandmother, the wisest person he had ever known, had once told him never to eavesdrop.

At the time he couldn’t help himself and instead of minding his own business, listening to a one-sided conversation which ended with a time and a place. The very nature of the person receiving the call was, at the very least, sinister, and, because of the cryptic conversation, there appeared to be, or at least to Harry, criminal activity involved.

For several days he had wrestled with the thought of whether he should go. Stay on the fringe, keep out of sight, observe and report to the police if it was a crime. Instead, he had willingly gone down the rabbit hole.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, several heat lamps hanging over his head, he was perspiring, and if perspiration could be used as a measure of fear, then Harry’s fear was at the highest level.

Another runnel of sweat rolled into his left eye, and, having his hands tied, literally, it made it impossible to clear it. The burning sensation momentarily took his mind off his predicament. He cursed and then shook his head trying to prevent a re-occurrence. It was to no avail.

Let the stinging sensation be a reminder of what was right and what was wrong.

It was obvious that it was the right place and the right time, but in considering his current perilous situation, it definitely was the wrong place to be, at the worst possible time.

It was meant to be his escape, an escape from the generations of lawyers, what were to Harry, dry, dusty men who had been in business since George Washington said to the first Walthenson to step foot on American soil, ‘Why don’t you become a lawyer?” when asked what he could do for the great man.

Or so it was handed down as lore, though Harry didn’t think Washington meant it literally, the Walthenson’s, then as now, were not shy of taking advice.

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

He was, Harry’s father was prone to saying, the exception to every rule. Harry guessed his father was referring to the fact his son wanted to be a Private Detective rather than a dry, dusty lawyer. Just the clothes were enough to turn Harry off the profession.

So, with a little of the money Harry inherited from one of his aunts, he leased an office in Gramercy Park and had it renovated to look like the Sam Spade detective agency, you know the one, Spade and Archer, and The Maltese Falcon.

There’s a movie and a book by Dashiell Hammett if you’re interested.

So, there it was, painted on the opaque glass inset of the front door, ‘Harold Walthenson, Private Detective’.

There was enough money to hire an assistant, and it took a week before the right person came along, or, more to the point, didn’t just see his business plan as something sinister. Ellen, a tall cool woman in a long black dress, or so the words of a song in his head told him, fitted in perfectly.

She’d seen the movie, but she said with a grin, Harry was no Humphrey Bogart.

Of course not, he said, he didn’t smoke.

Three months on the job, and it had been a few calls, no ‘real’ cases, nothing but missing animals, and other miscellaneous items. What he really wanted was a missing person. Or perhaps a beguiling, sophisticated woman who was as deadly as she was charming, looking for an errant husband, perhaps one that she had already ‘dispatched’.

Or for a tall, dark and handsome foreigner who spoke in riddles and in heavily accented English, a spy, or perhaps an assassin, in town to take out the mayor. The man was such an imbecile Harry had considered doing it himself.

Now, in a back room of a disused warehouse, that wishful thinking might be just about to come to a very abrupt end, with none of the romanticized trappings of the business befalling him. No beguiling women, no sinister criminals, no stupid policemen.

Just a nasty little man whose only concern was how quickly or how slowly Harry’s end was going to be.

© Charles Heath 2019-2024