Well, the pies must have changed considerably since my last visit to Goddard’s, when they were mostly soggy crust.For me, the most annoying aspect was Black’s insistence on transcribing the speech of the administrators of the Egton Bridge gooseberry show in North Yorkshire in a patronising ee-bah-goom orthography “Oh, ‘allo there. Possibly driven by a need to bulk out the page count, he includes frequent detours.Black laments: “Why do we seem so utterly uninterested in the intricacies of taste?” But in his chapter on London’s pie-and-mash shops, you’ll find scant description of what the pies served in Goddard’s in Greenwich are like. Luvly to see you.” I happened to catch Black plugging his book on Radio 4. His accent turned out to be gravelly estuarial: “It’s gonna ‘ave a big impact.” If it was fine for Egton Bridge, why didn’t he write the whole book like that. In fact, the fat adds to the interest of the dish, in texture as much as flavour.
In general, Black is impressively knowledgeable. His book is full of unexpected gen about these overlooked treasures. Did you know that the first words to run through Blackpool rock were the gnomic “Whoa Emma!”? Or that Kendal Mint Cake was discovered when a Mr Wiper nibbled a spillage on his floor in 1868? I enjoyed Black’s section on the lamented northern caf?hainUnited Cow Products, with its mission statement: “Tripe is the most digestible possible food…
Yet I read his book with increasing irritation, mainly due to his incessant desire to entertain, exemplified by his toe-curling title. Black deprecates “the marked tendency [of our culture] to play with its food, to joke”, yet this is what he does. splendid for the sedentary brain worker.”Occasionally, I had doubts about some of Black’s views. I find it unlikely that the cubes of fat found in Lancashire black puddings were “probably due to the need for cheap calories”. From Cornish pilchards to Orcadian clapshot, William Black has rummaged round Britain seeking out treats of traditional gastronomy. It was memory that led to his trial in Jerusalem and memory that led the Israelis to free him on the basis of mistaken identity.There is less science in this book than any other on the shortlist, but it is still fascinating.Junior prize shortlist* Kingfisher Knowledge: Endangered PlanetBy David Burnie (Kingfisher, £7.99)* Mysteries and Marvels of ScienceBy Phillip Clarke, Laura Howell & Sarah Khan (Usborne, £12.99)* Night Sky AtlasBy Robin Scagell (DK, £12.99)* Leap Through Time: EarthquakeBy Nicholas Harris (Orpheus, £7.99)* What Makes Me, Me?By Robert Winston (Dorling Kindersley, £9.99)* Kingfisher Knowledge: Microscopic LifeBy Richard Walker (Kingfisher, £7.99).
More than 30 years after the horrors of Treblinka, suspicion fell on John Demjanjuk, who in 1975 was a worker in the Ford motor car plant in Cleveland, Ohio. “Since then, storm has followed storm without let-up.”This is a book about everything you need to know about drugs, and the damage they can do to the mind and body. Edwards deals with sedatives, stimulants, opiates, hallucinogens, cannabis and ecstasy, among many others. Drugs are packages that carry a surprise, says Edwards – none more than a nondescript weed from the New World that was brought back to Europe in the 15th century. Fortey waxes lyrical and engages the reader with anecdotes and first-hand descriptions. The original Heimat was a sensation in 1984, when cinema audiences were asked to sit through all 15 hours 40 minutes of it over four consecutive nights.
Set in a village in the remote Hunsruck region of West Germany, Heimat followed one extended family, the Simons, from the end of 1919 to 1982, from the Weimar Republic to the Federal Republic. It challenged simplistic ideas about the rise of Nazism, while hooking viewers to a tale of rural people leading ordinary lives. BBC2 later screened this colossus over 11 consecutive nights, and on the channel’s 40th birthday last year, Heimat was voted one of its 40 highlights – the only foreign name on a list that ranged from Civilisation to Fawlty Towers. Don’t mention the war? Heimat did, but in a tantalisingly oblique manner.Heimat 2 followed the musically inclined son of the Simon family, Hermann to the Munich of the 1960s, focusing on the city’s artistic avant-garde. But at the centre of the film, which was even longer than the original Heimat, was a love story of almost Wagnerian resonance – between the composer Hermann and the cellist Clarissa. Fans will be happy to learn that Hermann and Clarissa, so tragically parted at the end of Heimat 2, are reunited at the beginning of Heimat 3.”It was clear to me that the centre of the story would be Hermann and Clarissa again,” says Reitz. “We start with them being reunited, and I realise that it’s a slightly strange way to begin a film – with a happy ending.” In an audaciously unabashed piece of plotting – one that does, however, seem to mirror life’s habit of throwing up outrageous coincidences – Reitz has Hermann and Clarissa reunited while watching the fall of the Berlin Wall on the same airport lounge TV screen.