Dhiren Shingadia

I was, like many cycling fans, glued to the Giro del Trentino a few weeks ago. The lure, of course, was Team Sky and seeing Wiggo back in the saddle. As riders pushed off the start line, I started a conversation with a friend about Cancellara’s performance on the Paris-Roubaix. A master of the classics, Cancellara was a force to be reckoned with and we stood exchanging notes and comparing him, as an overall rider, to Wiggo, and then Cavendish to the formidable Peter Sagan. Both pairs were our favourites; however, as the Trentino commentary began, I reflected on our conversation and realised how, in comparison to other elite athletes, cyclists differ from each other in ways unseen in other sports.  

For example, take fifteen defenders from UK premiership football teams or four hundred meter sprinters. They share similar physical builds, training programs and diets. In comparison to them, cyclists seem to follow very different - and often conflicting - schools of thought around nutrition and performance optimisation. More often than not, I’m fascinated by a rider’s performance because I’m keen to understand how his (or her) specific training regime served him in practice.

After the Trentino stage, I trudged back to my desk with more specific questions about how riders differ from one another. To appease my curiosities, I began to search Wikipedia for information about Cadel Evans, Nibali and Bradley Wiggins. All three riders are classified as ‘all rounders,’ but the similarities stopped there. Wiggins weighs sixty-nine kilos, Evans sixty-eight and Nibali sixty-one; both Evans and Nibali appear to devote more time to weight training in comparison to Wiggins, who does more on-the-bike training, core work and benefits from a messianic ability to recover.

For me, the differences in each rider’s training regime and body weight confirm the importance of not only sports specific training, but also rider specific training. However, conversations on cycling message boards, amongst ardent amateurs, seem to prioritise one approach to training over another because of what - supposedly - does or doesn’t work for select groups, and conversations such as these probably mislead anybody seeking advice to step up a notch or two.

After several months of physio - to recover from a disastrous knee injury - I’m now putting my fitness goals and cycling ambitions in the responsible hands of somebody that’s dripped enough sweat and trained enough people to know what they’re talking about. My physiotherapy identified holes in my armour that were long preventing me from making progress and I’ve subsequently worked on the fundamental issues. Using my physio regime as a platform, my training will be dedicated to strengthening my weaknesses and testing my strengths. My program will be specific to me, it will hurt and I will curse my way up every hill, but I’m looking forward to seeing better data about my performance and respectable finishes.

Here’s to training smart, the performance tailors and getting to the finish line through bespoke training.

Last year I made a commitment to baking. Fed up with the poor quality of ready-made bread and chemical laced treats, I decided that I, with some effort, could bake better bread, biscuits and cakes at home. Moreover, a stronger commitment to veganism excluded some occasional indulgences from my diet, which, by the way, was a good thing. I had to start from scratch, it occurred to me; learn how to make my favourite foods without dairy products and make them to a standard that surpassed what was available in cafés and supermarkets.

As always, the blogosphere was a treasure trove brimming with recipes, ideas and all-round creativity. Vegan cookies, pies, ice cream (or ice scream), bread, buns and pancakes were regular fare for dedicated vegans, and I was surprised to discover that many people preferred the taste of vegan alternatives or were indifferent about what they ate if the ‘V word’ was omitted from conversation.   

I started simple: spelt flour bread. As I veered toward proficiency, I went on to bake cakes, cookies, biscotti and pancakes during the following weeks. The simplicity of it all was surprising. Baking really isn’t as challenging as some would make you believe — especially if an idiot like me can get the basics right. Really, it’s genuinely difficult screw things up. Recipes, oven times and directions are well documented by good blogs, which leaves confidence and patience to be the only missing ingredients.  

One might easily conclude that the ability to bake induces bouts of unruly binge eating, as we’re prone to gorging when no portion barriers are set; however, for me, baking, alongside cooking, has cemented a more conscious and responsible relationship with food. My appreciation of the effort and quality of ingredients required to produce the food I love grows continuously — as does the adept recognition of mediocre shop-bought alternatives. I use organic spelt flour, good quality dark chocolate, vegan friendly fats and sweeteners, and, of course, no unnecessary stabilisers, preservatives and flavourings find their way into my creations.  

Finished products, the puddings that denote proof, are more savoured and eaten with less haste as baking mutes the inner voice telling you to, ‘Eat quickly and eat more because, who knows, when will you next enjoy such treats?’ The reassurance that comes from mastering recipes and having batches of food made for days to come is calming, fosters a relaxed atmosphere and allows you to enjoy food at a leisurely pace. 

Based on my kitchen experiments, I believe everybody should master their favourite food. The benefits unquestionably offset the effort, and the sense of achievement gained from meticulously selecting ingredients and earning your treats by making them is unparalleled.

As an adult, I’ve grown to adore dark chocolate and seldom go a day without indulging in a chunk or two after supper. Like an tumultuous infant, projecting food from its high chair, my palette vehemently rejects - vegetable fat laden - milk chocolate and sickeningly sweet desserts; therefore, bitter-sweet dark chocolate is my preferred accompaniment to a good meal as it never leaves a wince-worthy, saccharine film in my mouth.

Over the last two years, my taste has gradually matured as I’ve taken time to discover artisanal varieties of seventy percent plus single origin bars. Becoming a teetotaller has also had a compound effect on my taste as I now seek, smell and buy chocolates, coffee and tea like a whisky aficionado.

I follow unquestionably well-written chocolate blogs, track tags on Tumblr and seek boutique brands from around the world to satisfy my curiosity, and the dedication to innovation, quality and ethics leaves me envious. Like the professional baristas of any good coffee house, artisan chocolatiers have long possessed a sense of care and pride that is just beginning to sprout in other food businesses. From sourcing beans to conching and distribution, the processes involved in producing superior products are not for short-termists that dream of franchises, expansions and head-counts. Real chocolate making is a craft and each bar, from the first to last of each batch, requires unrequited attention.

As a purist, I prefer bars as opposed to truffles and exuberant treats. Elaborate boxes and dinky paper cups are, well, akin to Rosé wine: strictly the preserve of mums and girlfriends. However, bars and blocks are the thinking man’s choice. As I slowly pierce foil and hear a snap to confirm good tempering, the aroma of a new bar mystically fills the air and primes the palette to detect specific notes. The results are, more often than not, surprising as bars with zesty bouquets can be preceded by spicy flavours, and rum like flavours are often introduced by scents of vanilla, caramel and raisin.

Mirroring the Mayans, who offered their gods chocolate throughout rituals, the act of eating good chocolate has also become ceremonial for me. These things cannot be rushed. The acerbic taste of the first square, as it initially melts in the mouth, is always replaced by varying degrees of creaminess, followed by sweetness, and then characterizing flavours begin to present themselves after the second and third squares are cheekily devoured in unashamed fashion. I often find myself gravitating towards the kitchen after reading a few chapters of an immersing book as chocolate, much like good wine, can only be appreciated when consumed slowly during wind-down activities. Indeed, haste equals a loss in taste.

My penchant for single origin bars is complemented with the occasional gamble on flavoured bars, by the trader in me, as they exhibit the creativity of good chocolatiers. Coffee, chilli and sea salt variations are now the standard, but decadent when made with quality ingredients such as Himalayan and Maldon salts, single origin coffee beans and distinct chilli varieties. Truly unique fusions, worth seeking, include Arabic spice, lavender, lime, jasmine, rose and cardamom varieties by Rococo; Mole bars by L’Artisan Du Chocolat; and, of course, nettle, almond and coconut creations by Bovetti.

Limited by shipping costs, locality and not wanting to increase the excessive carbon footprint of chocolate, I refrain from importing chocolate directly manufacturers outside of the UK, but temptation always lurks and clicks on shopping basket icons are painfully replaced by clicks on my bookmark button. Exotic offerings from artisanal chocolatiers including Akinosie, Compartes or Theo & Philo, as tempting as they are, act as points of conversation with travelling foodies and, if I manage to pique their interest, I allude to the possibility of receiving a few bars in exchange for the tips.  

The significance of provenance cannot be underestimated as uniqueness in flavour is greatly affected by regional soil profiles, fertilizers, water quality and weather. Chocolate made from Venezuelan cacao carries flavours and aromas that contrast those from Madagascan cacao; therefore, when selecting the plain bars, I opt for trusted and familiar varieties of cacao and lesser-known varieties to broaden my palette. Staples in my cupboard include seventy percent bars made with Peruvian, Indonesian and Venezuelan cacao and recent additions, by way of trips to food markets, have included single origin bars made with cacao from Madagascar, The Dominican Republic, Grenada and Saint Lucia.

Both quality and provenance are also notable when using chocolate for baking and cooking. Good quality chocolate is often the difference between good cookies and, well, rather average cookies as baking further unlocks flavour when chocolate melts and mixes with cooking fats other ingredients. For some time, I saved my best chocolate for eating yet, after much experimentation, I recognised the impact of good quality chocolate on the overall flavour of food. Sure, I don’t shatter bars of Mast Brothers’ finest over a kitchen counter for chocolate chips, but selecting eighty percent bars of Green and Blacks over Menier makes all the difference and finer varieties, such as Willie’s, carry flavours to the stratosphere.

Certain recipes and ingredients also amplify the flavour and characteristics of good chocolate and none are more effective than gateaux, coffee cakes and biscuits. Coffee enhances rich, earthy flavours and the black forest gateau, due to its cherries, extracts fruity flavours and complements acidity. Moreover, cold concoctions, such as sorbets, (vegan) ice cream and smoothies, taste amazing when raw cacao nibs are added to them with medjool dates or date molasses.

Treats and, equally, unjustifiable moments of self-indulgence needn’t lead to guilt as the health benefits derived from dark chocolate are manifold. First, and possibly the most beneficial, is a reduction in the likelihood of suffering from hypertension and closely related ailments due to the neutralisation of free radicals by antioxidants; and second, according to various studies, is the regulation of blood pressure and increased blood flow to the brain, which both, in turn, improve cognitive functions. Yes, that dark matter is extraordinarily good for our grey matter.  

In addition to the long-term health benefits, there are also short-term, holistic benefits to be derived from the essential minerals, including potassium, magnesium and copper, and theobromine found in dark chocolate such as the strengthening of tooth enamel and suppression cough-like symptoms.

With so much choice and varying prices, it’s easy to think that the ubiquity of chocolate increases quality and standards in a seemingly competitive market? Petrol station kiosks, office canteens and newsagents stock familiar brands of dark chocolate that, to the casual consumer, seem satisfactory. Unfortunately, mass produced dark bars can contain a plethora of chemicals, flavour enhancers and filler to maximise profits whilst keeping retail prices low e.g. the seventy percent chocolates from notable supermarkets contain vanilla, which is added to enhance cacao flavours and bypass the lengthy roasting stages required to release the unique flavours from different beans. Moreover, blending cheaper varieties of beans is also another technique used to create flavour; therefore, questionable supply chains, more often than not, can be traced upstream to manufacturers using blending processes.  

As with most food, buying selectively is key due to ethical reasons. A recent BBC Panorama documentary revealed that the trusted fairtrade stamp  - especially when used by mass-market confectioners and prestigious chocolatiers - does not guarantee the obsolescence of child labour. Due to the limited governance of supply chains by The Fairtrade Foundation, child labour free chocolate is more likely to come from independent bean-to-bar manufacturers that micro-manage their supply chains or own cacao estates. As a general rule, buying organic automatically eliminates the majority of questionable manufacturers; however, it’s always good practice to read further into the work a manufacturer does to support farming communities and source ethical cacao.

My pedantry may seem excessive to many, but, really, it’s no different to seeking craft beer, local ale or fresh bread. Essentially, good pre-purchase research is - and should become - normal practice for anybody who genuinely cares about the quality of their food and the impact it has on society and the environment.

To help fellow aficionados and anybody else with a keen interest in chocolate, I want to compile and share a cacao discovery map that allows people to discover chocolate by regions; therefore, any tips and recommendations about good bars, beans and brands are welcome and much appreciated. Once I have enough data, I will create a collaborative Google Maps layer and, hopefully, something more comprehensive such as an infographic.

Goals in life should focus on creating, mastering, making and understanding. 

It’s a foolish, empty and shallow man that focuses owning things.  

Throughout the week, I’ve been reading various things about hipsters and makers. Thoughts: For all their efforts, hipsters are far from being the self-appointed taste makers that they believe they are. At best, their geekery and curation of things and culture that epitomise good/alternative taste are attempts to mask their insecurities and gain social currency or validation.

They flit from one interest to another in order to fit in and seldom justify disliking something with good reason. When their interests gain ‘mainstream’ status, a race to find something new or cool begins as they become frustrated about no longer being unique, being the muse or losing social currency. ‘I was doing it ages ago,’ is their outcry to defend their discerning tastes.

There’s also the cliquey, dry in-jokes and conversations about gigs, which they’re seemingly too old to attend, that are used as methods to exclude people from conversations when they’re amongst ‘normal’ people. However, they fail to realise that the joke’s on them as they do not acknowledge normality and commitment, to anything even if it’s not in supposedly cool, as signs of the confidence and responsible character.

After passive observations and many encounters of the hipster kind, you slowly begin to notice that a lot of these people are not from London, which is why they seem to try harder. Often from well-to-do middle England or products of worry-free upbringings, they have less responsibility on their shoulders; therefore, they’re carefree, not as level headed as their contemporaries with ‘mainstream’ interests, and have the capacity to ceaselessly ditch for one thing for another and scour the depths of Soundcloud for hours. 

All things considered, I can tolerate hipsters and their arrogance, but I find myself expelling indignant sighs when makers are confused with hipsters. Makers are the writers, designers, craftspeople, experimental home cooks, artisans and business people that create things and shape culture for the better. The girl selling vegan soap on etsy, the guy trying to get a tech start-up off the ground and writers and bloggers splitting hairs over sentence structure are not hipsters. Happy to share and discuss their interests with anybody that’s willing to listen, they are unpretentious makers.

The golden rule: Hipsters consume and exclude; makers create and share.

I’ve been moaning about the state of hip-hop for quite some time. Outside of Akala, I couldn’t hear any lyrics that I could relate to any more. Hip-hop had, in my opinion, sold out and gone pop; therefore, through sheer disappointment, I began to listening to old albums by cerebral lyricists including Common, Mos Def, Public Enemy, Gang Starr, A Tribe Called Quest, The Roots, Dilated Peoples, J-Dilla, Big L and even Big Pun. Essentially, I became sick of talentless blaggers bragging about swag and producing meaningless, overproduced music. To be honest, I thought Jay-Z had lost his credibility too.

However, I’m starting to see green shoots, a possible new dawn for hip-hop. Over the last year, artists such as Ghost Poet and Joey Bada$$ are delivering verse fresh enough to challenge and invigorate a hip-hop scene full of cookie cutter artists. Yes, at last.

The sound of the Paralympic games was used to introduce and promote events via Channel 4 montages. Few people actually dug deeper to find out what the song and Public Enemy represented. Many didn’t even know who Public Enemy were. Pioneers of hip-hop, Public Enemy’s music epitomised the intersection of art and purpose. 

It’s great that their music has been introduced to a new generation, I suppose. Some would say their rhymes are now history lessons to educate people about struggles of the past. I say they still carry relevant messages. 

Read the lines below and then listen to Harder Than You Think. Get it? 

That ain’t got nothin to do with rap
Check the facts expose those cats
Who pose as heros and take advantage of blacks
Your governments gangster so cut the crap
A war goin on so where you at?

…Fight the power comes great responsiblity
F the police but whos stoppin you from killin me?
Disasters, fiascos over a loop by pe
If it’s an I instead of we
Believin tv

Spittin riches, bitches, and this new thing about snitches
Watch them asses move the masses switches
System dissed them but barely missed her
My soul intention to save my brothers and sisters..

Screamin gangsta 20 years later
Of course endorsed while consciousness faded
New generations believing them fables
Gangster boogie on two turntables

Show no love so it’s easy to hate it
Desecrated while the coroner waited
Any given sunday so where ya’ll rate it?
With slavery, lynching, and them drugs infiltrated

I’m like that doll chuckie, baby
Keep comin back to live love life like I’m crazy
Keep it movin risin to the top
Doug fresh clean livin you don’t stop

Revolution means change
Don’t look at me strange
So I can’t repeat what other rappers be sayin
You don’t stand for something
You fall for anything
Harder than you think
It’s a beautiful thing

Jonny Marr’s new album, The Messenger, promoted a routine visit to The Smiths and Morrissey’s back catalogue. Typically, I find myself clicking through Ringleader Of The Tormentors or The Sound Of The Smiths after I hear one of Morrissey’s tracks on 6 Music — or  bastardised on TV for meagre royalties. Of course, the latter experience prompts an enquiry to reaffirm why both Moz and The Smiths were good.

I start with Oscillate Wildly followed by Girl Afraid and then Hand In Glove. After several repeats, because that’s what I do, I move onto You Have Killed Me, Everyday Is Like Sunday and The First Of The Gang To Die. So what if they’re the most known tracks? Morrissey’s fearless expression, in both his music and outspoken opinions, and mercurial temperament never fail to reel me in.

‘To be standing by the flag not feeling shameful, racist or partial,’ are lyrics that condemn the fascism that mars patriotism and his open letter to his fan club about the Olympics made controversial yet valid points. Moreover, his unfaltering commitment to vegetarianism and outbursts against animal cruelty generate publicity around the topics that cautious, PR friendly celebrities i.e. Paul McCartney or Bob Dylan fail to generate.

I am unable to watch the Olympics due to the blustering jingoism that drenches the event. Has England ever been quite so foul with patriotism? The ‘dazzling royals’ have, quite naturally, hijacked the Olympics for their own empirical needs, and no oppositional voice is allowed in the free press. It is lethal to witness. As London is suddenly promoted as a super-wealth brand, the England outside London shivers beneath cutbacks, tight circumstances and economic disasters. Meanwhile the British media present 24-hour coverage of the ‘dazzling royals’, laughing as they lavishly spend, as if such coverage is certain to make British society feel fully whole. In 2012, the British public is evidently assumed to be undersized pigmies, scarcely able to formulate thought.

His polemics, often perceived as desperate attempts to maintain relevance, distance him from the music community and caricaturize him at times; however, I doubt he’s sensitive or considers becoming an accessible figure. An unapologetic enigma he will always be, I listen to his music to seek a cerebral challenge as opposed to entertainment and that, in my opinion, is how it should be perceived.

There are, of course, many Ed Miliband detractors at present. Lefties are uncertain about his charisma, ability to lead and whether he’s a worthy opponent for David Cameron. Personally, I’m undecided as personalities are beginning to overshadow policies - much like they do in the US.

Boris’ rambling wit and gaffes, which detract attention from his performance, are a boon to the Tory PR machine and the Nick Clegg parody generated more interest than his failure to affect significant change since commencing his term. Of course, who am I to draw attention to the obvious?

To be frank, I’m not an ardent observer of UK politics, nor am I an active commentator; therefore, my failure to watch the recent party conference charades will come as no surprise. However, I was somewhat intrigued by Ed Miliband’s stance on education reform.

Miliband’s plan to introduce German style vocational qualifications would provide direction to young, ignored kinesthetic learners - marginalised by poor academic results - upon finishing school and, simultaneously, counter the damage incurred by the O-level style examinations proposed by Michael Gove.

For years, I’ve continually rambled about the importance of vocational qualifications as our education system has never acknowledged their true worth. Also, vocational qualifications are marred by snobbery in professional environments. A person with GNVQs is often deemed less capable than a person with A-levels, and the same snobbery exists toward HND holders as degree holders are more revered.

Personally, I believe traditional qualifications and academic proficiencies are not always the best measures of an individual’s ability to deliver in various work environments. Moreover, outside of science, medicine, finance and engineering, academic credentials are not always required to achieve success if employers provide sufficient training and development paths.

If accepted, Miliband’s proposals could ultimately transform attitudes towards vocational qualifications, extinguish snobbery in the long-term and enable employers to use vocational qualifications as the foundations for industry specific training and qualifications.  Regardless of whether he tugs on the reigns of the country or not, Miliband’s proposals need to be championed by prominent figures in business and the education system.

I’ve just put down The Stranger’s Child by Alan Hollinghurst and, to be frank, it left a lot to be desired. An odd choice, It was recommended to me by friends who urged me to take a break from dystopian fiction. ‘Don’t worry,’ I responded with wry sarcasm, ‘they have no affect on my mood, but I’ll give the book a go to, erm, humour the mocking’.

Sadly, despite my attempts to stay open minded, I became disinterested after the introductory chapters. Nonetheless, a dogmatic will carried me through the tome as failure lurked unfalteringly. Hollinghurst writes well and I can picture glossy eyed F.S. Fitzgerald and Evelyn Waugh darlings clutching this book, his most recent work, yet homages to the glory days of aristocracy surpass my comprehension.

Although my optimism swiftly waned, the main family in Hollinghurst’s story, the Valances, sparked some interest as they made me realise how the upper classes lived together as large, multigenerational families, occupying estates and manors. A now unfashionable practice, multigenerational living has become extinct as success, especially in the eyes of wealthy professionals, is increasingly associated with independence and property ownership.

Even Indian families, known for their close bonds and large households, are beginning to fragment as British born generations gain wealth and juggle traditional values with western lifestyles. Personally, I’m in favour of multigenerational living: not because I want my ironing taken care of, but because it enables you to proactively take care of family members, share living costs and invest in personal interests — instead of being chained to a sapping mortgage.

Regardless of my views, multigenerational living is unlikely to become as popular as it was in days gone by; however, the economic climate and housing crisis will force many — out of sheer necessity — to adopt this antiquated way of life; and necessity, for some, will become a catalyst for a change in attitudes toward property ownership, the costs of conventional careers and long term responsibility for family members.

On time:

Each new day is gift we’re blessed to receive. How will you cherish this gift? To make the most of each new day is the best way. To waste is to disrespect it. 

What have you learn’t today? What have you changed? Who have you helped? 

On who we are:

Be thankful for who your are, where you are in life, what’s made you and enjoy the journey to where you want to be. 

On difficulties:

We have the most control over the way we tackle obstacles across paths and not when and how they fall. Be sharp; be prepared.  

Was Edward Scissorhands a passive, satirical stab at a healthy, suburban America in its peak?

I was watching it today, after not seeing it for many years, and I’m seeing things, meanings, that I couldn’t have appreciated when I saw it for the first time—at the mere age of nine.

The stereo-typical neighbourhood characters, the uniformity of people and painted houses, and everybody coming and going at the same time. The film made families look like batteries energising American capitalism.

I haven’t thought all of this through extensively. Who knows what Burton was trying communicate via his insular neighbourhood, but watch it and try to spot the elements that got me thinking.

After weeks of nervous waiting, my copy of The Americans was – tumultuously – shoved through my letterbox; however, due to impromptu happenings, it was immediately buried under a stack of books that also required due diligence. My procrastination wasn’t an act of nonchalant laziness: it was fueled by recognition because good photo documentaries, like The Americans, deserve time and generously poured single malt.

Countless photography books are shallow, coffee table fodder and decorations to adorn Hoxton cafes and salon receptions at best. Moreover, subconsciously, I’ve gravitated toward albums put together by people that didn’t dream of professionalism or acclaim, but rather, they did what they did out of interest and curiosity. Gavin Watson, Jacob Holdt and Robert Frank started to take photographs to document their journeys and unique surroundings. Their work wasn’t staged, the people were real, they used inexpensive equipment, yet the stories are unrivaled.

A melancholic stare at a jukebox, families seated at dinner and funeral attendees paying their respects. Where did distant thoughts dwell? Were these people part of the, ‘American Dream,’ portrayed by Elvis or Dion and The Belmonts? Photographs of Diners and 50s paraphernalia suggest they were, yet faces carry burden, stress, repression, and in contrasting extremes: privilege, innocence and sheltered upbringings. The Americans isn’t a mere documentation of 50s America: it’s story of class culture and a passive classification of the haves and the have-nots.

It’s often suggested that I foray into session photography, of various sorts, but I find it mentally grating. Sure, stories behind weddings, fashion shoots and hair styling exist, but they require extraction, manipulation and manufacture. I’m more the realist than surrealist; I prefer grit over glamour. Perhaps, one day, with the right company, I will embark on a journey armed with a Leica M9 and interminable curiosity.

When you see a book titled Memoirs of My Melancholy Whores, you gravitate toward it and ask yourself, ‘What the fuck could this be about?’ It’s the kind of book you’d discover after clicking ‘I’m feeling lucky’ on Google; a wildcard and frivolous purchase of sorts.

I flicked through it in a few days and – after confusedly putting it down – concluded that Marquez and I were never going to get on. I find his style of writing too fantastic and removed from reality; however, I didn’t have a problem with the story, which is the tale of a ninety-year-old man’s infatuation with a fourteen-year-old prostitute. As disturbing as it sounds, I’m sure the story could be validated if you ventured toward the copious arse ends of our world.

Marquez’s work is definitely suited to the ardent, literary aesthete and not people-watching, traditionalists such as myself. Not to imply that it’s all indulgent style over substance, in comparison to novels by Franzen or Zadie Smith, my preferred authors, his work requires effort to extract resonant meaning and lacks the humility and everydayness that I seek.

Not as Tarantino as the title suggests, but definitely a dark, abstract tale about coping with age and solitude.