This year is the 10th anniversary of SA4QE, the Slickman A4 Quotation Event, in which fans of Russell Hoban celebrate his 4 February birthday by placing quotes from his books in public places. Diana Slickman, its originator, proposed when SA4QE was established in 2002: “We each, on February 4, write our favorite passage, of any length, from any Russell Hoban book, on a piece of yellow paper and drop it somewhere public and then walk away, leaving chance to do the rest … I would recommend leaving it someplace rather than just dropping it on the ground … The paper should at least include the name of the book and Russell’s name … leaving chance to do the rest … let the mystery of things take it from there, let the paper find its way (or not) to some receptive (or not) person who would then go seek out the book (or not) and become another fan (or not)…”

(guest post)

As part of an ongoing series of articles, interviews and reminiscences about and inspired by the late Jackie Leven, the following short feature by Liam Carson was written around the time Jackie was working with writer Ian Rankin on the music and spoken word project that would become Jackie Leven Said.

This picture of Jackie from the cover of a Norway-only mini-LP released in 1984, entitled ‘Some People Are Ratz’

In a fourth dimension somewhere, on a windy day, Jackie Leven is carrying a rustling Somerfield carrier bag towards what appears to be the Fareham Burger Van. The man in the van, the Burger Man, seems to be Russell Hoban. Inexplicably, he is wearing a Sunderland team soccer jersey. He is holding a bottle of bright red, almost radioactive chilli sauce.

This is a remembrance of someone whose music and spirit I love. It’s not an obituary, or a tribute – of which there are finer examples already. They’re thoughts for someone who didn’t know me but whose voice I hear every day. I feel honour-bound to pay my respects more thoroughly than I’ve already done because I feel Jackie Leven’s presence, his soul shimmering, every time I hear his voice. I didn’t know I was going to miss him this way. I didn’t know it could hurt this much. I feel as though a piece of me has been broken off. But it’s time to let go.

Photograph of Jackie Leven and Scots John in an Islington recording studio, circa 1983 © Tina

One of my heroes, the great Jackie Leven of the Kingdom of Fife, died at around 20:00 GMT on Monday 14 November. You can read more about Jackie’s musical legacy here. In the meantime, this one’s for you, Jackie. This isn’t the place for philosophy. I just couldn’t bear the idea that an Artist whose work gives me comfort, pleasure and meaning was suffering and in pain.

Antonio Machado, the final stanza of ‘Portrait’, translated by Robert Bly (from Jackie’s Defending Ancient Springs):

“And when the day arrives for the last leaving of all,
and the ship that never returns to port is ready to go,
you’ll find me on board, light, with few belongings,
almost naked, like the children of the sea.”

There was always something subterranean about the band Doll By Doll; as though a secret network of subversives existed to mould their image, design their record covers and promote their appearances. There are three absolute standout tracks on ‘Doll By Doll’: Caritas, The Perfect Romance and A Bright Green Field. And if you remain unmoved by the latter, you have no pulse, no blood coursing through your veins, no soul. I defy you to find a more cohesive and satisfying record.

The instant you realise that the intensity of a whisky’s aroma is beyond description takes you out of yourself. To drink Murray McDavid Caol Ila Maverick is to drink a Scottish landscape, but you’ll be going there via the Loire Valley. Distilled in 1993 and bottled in 2004, this is a time traveller’s whisky. Caol Ila, pronounced “cull-eela”, means “Sound of Islay”, as in a narrow strip of water. The drinking experience benefits from a few additional ingredients, but don’t worry if you don’t have them because this particular whisky comes with a few special effects of its own.