We witness the horror of the burning tower. We learn that the cladding outside the block of flats was cheaper than the fire resistant cladding. This choice was made in the richest borough in the UK and some would say on earth.
This begs the question;
” What does one human being owe to another?’ We live now in a society which has lost religious values so what are we to replace them with? It is clear that we are unable to form our own. We have no moral imagination, we cannot conceive apparently that the rich have a duty to care for the poor, the vulnerable, the dispossessed the lonely and the sick. The rich only appear to have a duty to themselves, to their lifestyles and to their desire for more and more and more. This is at the expense of the helpless, the fragile, the afraid.
It is time I suspect for us to return to Rousseau and his masterpiece of political philosophy -‘ THE SOCIAL CONTRACT.’ Here we are asked to imagine ourselves not as individuals but as part of whole. We are all interdependent upon each other and in the perfect society there is no separation. If that is the ‘perfect’ society then we must acknowledge that North Kensington is so far divorced from that ‘ idea of perfection than it can scarcely be imagined that any more morally bankrupt society can exist upon this earth.
Rousseau talks of the general will ;
“Each of us puts his power under the general will and as a body we receive each member as an indivisible part of the whole.’
For any society to succeed the general will must always be for the common good. This clearly not the case in North Kensington.It may be noted that when a rich person is wronged he is given the utmost attention by the authorities . However, when a poor person is wronged they have little or no recourse to either authority or justice. The poor in North Kensington have burnt to death, many children put to bed are never seen again because the cladding on the building in which they were sleeping was of the cheapest kind available. It was not fire proof. The decision to apply this cheap cladding was made by the wealthy of North Kensington.
‘ This is a a story combining the struggles within a family under pressure and an institution under huge financial pressure. Liasons ignite, tangle and fade.Addiction, psychological trauma and introspection abound in this examination of relationships and the psyche.
Excitement, fear, frustration, guilt enter and leave like a complex choreographed dance. This is powerful and we wonder how it will end ; in despair, happiness or death.’
C.M. Byatt. Consultant physician.
‘This novel was both gripping and topical, whilst the book is a page turner,it shines a light on families faced with the horror of addiction in their midst.It captures perfectly both the despair and destruction caused to individuals, but also to families as complete units, alongside the hopelessness of an illness for which there is little or no hope available.
This is a beautifully written account of having an alcoholic in the family. Mollie Bach traces the tangled web within a family with compassion and warmth. the opening of the story is in southern France, in the sun drenched home of the artist. the parallels Bach draws between the heroine’s despair and that of Van Gogh show a deep understanding of the relationship between the creativity and suffering.
In my novel I ask the question what is an alcoholic? Do some people deserve to be murdered. What is justice? What is right?What makes a victim. Who is the victim here?Reviews for my Novel PARADISE LOST.
‘ A story combining the struggles within people under pressure and the struggles of an institution under financial pressure. Liasons ignite tangle and fade.Addiction psychological trauma, and introspection abound in this examination of relationships and the psyche. Excitement, fear,frustration, excitement enter and leave as in a carefully choreographed dance.
Byatt. Consultant Physician.
This novel was both gripping,powerful and topical. Whilst the book is a page turner it shines a light on families faced with the horror of alcohol addiction in their midst.It captures perfectly the despair and destruction caused to individuals, but also to families viewed as whole and complete units.The hopeless desire to help, when there is little help available.
The effect that mourning had on the personality of the mother brought them to ideas centred on the child. Geoffrey knew that John had read the thesis by Edward Emery a psychoanalyst who had written on’ The Ghost Of The mother’. This paper examined the mourning of a mother for a young child and how adversely it affects the personality of the mother.
This avid discourse led into ideas relating to the seed of the personality and the realisation that there can be no fairground freak or dislocated personality that has not lain, at some time within the womb of a beloved mother and that is both our genetic make-up and our actions that reveal who we are ;wonderful or otherwise.Eventually they concluded that to handle the human personality is to handle that which is both unknown and unpredictable.
Morning came and it lead to a deeper wondering. There was some aspect of this darkness that was drawing him ever closer. Why he wondered had he failed to spot it when he was abroad.He considered the possibility of some psychotic breakdown or even a bipolar catastrophe.
‘I never knew you loved her. I didn’t know you loved her. Why did you have to love her?She was a drunk.She was vile,but you had to love her didn’t you? Why didn’t you take me away from her, leave her divorce her- anything but no, you just stayed and stayed and stayed. To stay that was always your mantra. You could escape to work. Never mind if she left me in the cupboard without food or drink. I was unable to escape.I was so frightened I used to wet myself. I wanted to be with you.You didn’t want that. i wanted to be with you.’
‘ What happened Judith, tell me what happened’Sam said softly.
” You happened, mum happened, I happened. Why did you have child with a woman like that?- How could you?
‘ She wasn’t like that when I met her. I’ve explained to you, after Harry died she changed;she never got over Harry’s death. She loved him so much.’
‘ Claude told me about Van Gogh’s mother….the mourning mother syndrome. I was never good enough. I wasn’t Harry. She wanted something, someone else not me.’