Just watched the documentary….loved it! I feel privileged to have been allowed to share intimate moments of what presumably is a tough time for you and am in awe, as ever, at your enormous powers of expression. Seeing clips of favourite films and footage of you as a young man was such a treat. Thank you, Hanif!
A brilliant documentary, showing the resilience and self-belief that have enabled you to make an almost seamless transition in terms of your writing ability despite the physical, emotional and psychological turmoil you've had to navigate - leaving some of us mere mortals (well, me at least) who've gone through a similar experience somewhat in awe!
I really enjoyed the BBC documentary. Your relationship with your family shines through. I loved seeing all the historical footage of London, being a south Londoner who grew up in the 1970s. Wonderful stuff, and so good to see how well you look.
Also… it really struck me how differently people talked in the 80s and 90s. Of course posh people sounded ridiculous- but actually I think the not posh sounded more cut glass too in the early footage - including Hanif. Wondered what his perspective is - we all posh it up in some places if we feel we need to, so it’s possible he talked more “proper” when dealing with serious arts and theatre people - what do you think? I think now it can be called “code switching”.
Brilliant documentary. I remember watching My Beautiful Laundrette when it was first screened and being blown away by it. And I am blown away by you, Hanif. And your loving sons.
I have been interested in how the collaborative writing with you sons works. Because it is one thing to read about it and another to see it in action, as occurs briefly in the retrospective on BBC1. I thought it was a bit like the table readings for your plays that were also shown - an untidy, pseudo negotiation – a mild clash of personalities and different ways of doing things, as together you home in on a more fluent draft. I wonder if your experience working in the theatre, where there are group discussions regarding the material long before the spotlight hits actor, gave you a leg up when it came to writing more collaboratively.
It must have been a surreal and unsettling thing to witness the rising wave of radical Islam, years before before it broke. Few people were aware of what was coming. My first inkling was in Yemen in 98. In a stroke of good fortune I left the country a week, I think, before a group of foreign tourists were abducted in Abyan – an act that was in part orchestrated by Abu Hamza al-Masri. A year or so later there was the bombing of the USS Cole in Aden Harbour.
Despite the country being the social and political embodiment of an extreme form of Islam, the centre of the capital, Sana'a, was cosmopolitan in a strange way. Then I went to the suburbs and it was a different world. A grizzled tribesman with a kalashnikov slung over his shoulder informed me that if I went to Marib he would kill me. The following day, like an idiot, I went to Marib. I wonder if there is a parallel between bands (in the musical sense) and terrorist cells – both often malcontent suburbanites kicking against the system in attempt to make it fall over, probably with little clue as to what they would replace it with.
I liked the human moments in the documentary. Everything seems so parlous in society at the moment that the sight of you being fed an ice-cream by your family who, in your words, cared enough to “stick by you” is a tonic for the soul. All of those acts of kindness have got to add up to something.
I liked the humour and the pathos. I don't trust writers who ignore the latter, which is present in so much our lives.
“Why am I wearing that red shirt?” you asked rhetorically when confronted by footage of your past self, and though and I laughed, the joke was on me as I sat there with one eye on the TV, sewing up the crotch in a pair of old trousers.
Just watched the documentary….loved it! I feel privileged to have been allowed to share intimate moments of what presumably is a tough time for you and am in awe, as ever, at your enormous powers of expression. Seeing clips of favourite films and footage of you as a young man was such a treat. Thank you, Hanif!
Yahoo, hooray! I got my ticket! Looking forward to this so much- I'm excited to see you in real life Hanif.
Sorry we won't be able to see it, at least not right away, in the US.
A brilliant documentary, showing the resilience and self-belief that have enabled you to make an almost seamless transition in terms of your writing ability despite the physical, emotional and psychological turmoil you've had to navigate - leaving some of us mere mortals (well, me at least) who've gone through a similar experience somewhat in awe!
I wish there was an online option for your gig; it would be great for us not in London to be able to attend. Nonetheless, all the best!
Congrats to you & your devoted family & friends near & far!
Too far to make it, but huge congratulations. I hope you are recovering steadily and in good spirits.
I’d love to be there. Too bad I live in California. I hope it goes wonderfully!
Same here. Looking forward to the book, Hanif.
I really enjoyed the BBC documentary. Your relationship with your family shines through. I loved seeing all the historical footage of London, being a south Londoner who grew up in the 1970s. Wonderful stuff, and so good to see how well you look.
Just catching up on the documentary- it’s brilliant! Really enjoying it. Hopefully can catch the live show too.
Also… it really struck me how differently people talked in the 80s and 90s. Of course posh people sounded ridiculous- but actually I think the not posh sounded more cut glass too in the early footage - including Hanif. Wondered what his perspective is - we all posh it up in some places if we feel we need to, so it’s possible he talked more “proper” when dealing with serious arts and theatre people - what do you think? I think now it can be called “code switching”.
Brilliant documentary. I remember watching My Beautiful Laundrette when it was first screened and being blown away by it. And I am blown away by you, Hanif. And your loving sons.
Congratulations on making the best of your fateful condition!, like all good artists would need to do. Very inspiring!
Excellent documentary and very interesting to watch
A lovely review of the documentary:
https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2024/sep/16/in-my-own-words-hanif-kureishi-review-so-frank-its-breathtaking
One burning question remains: why were you wearing that red shirt, Hanif?
Wishing you all the best and can’t wait to see you at The Southbank Centre. 👍
I have been interested in how the collaborative writing with you sons works. Because it is one thing to read about it and another to see it in action, as occurs briefly in the retrospective on BBC1. I thought it was a bit like the table readings for your plays that were also shown - an untidy, pseudo negotiation – a mild clash of personalities and different ways of doing things, as together you home in on a more fluent draft. I wonder if your experience working in the theatre, where there are group discussions regarding the material long before the spotlight hits actor, gave you a leg up when it came to writing more collaboratively.
It must have been a surreal and unsettling thing to witness the rising wave of radical Islam, years before before it broke. Few people were aware of what was coming. My first inkling was in Yemen in 98. In a stroke of good fortune I left the country a week, I think, before a group of foreign tourists were abducted in Abyan – an act that was in part orchestrated by Abu Hamza al-Masri. A year or so later there was the bombing of the USS Cole in Aden Harbour.
Despite the country being the social and political embodiment of an extreme form of Islam, the centre of the capital, Sana'a, was cosmopolitan in a strange way. Then I went to the suburbs and it was a different world. A grizzled tribesman with a kalashnikov slung over his shoulder informed me that if I went to Marib he would kill me. The following day, like an idiot, I went to Marib. I wonder if there is a parallel between bands (in the musical sense) and terrorist cells – both often malcontent suburbanites kicking against the system in attempt to make it fall over, probably with little clue as to what they would replace it with.
I liked the human moments in the documentary. Everything seems so parlous in society at the moment that the sight of you being fed an ice-cream by your family who, in your words, cared enough to “stick by you” is a tonic for the soul. All of those acts of kindness have got to add up to something.
I liked the humour and the pathos. I don't trust writers who ignore the latter, which is present in so much our lives.
“Why am I wearing that red shirt?” you asked rhetorically when confronted by footage of your past self, and though and I laughed, the joke was on me as I sat there with one eye on the TV, sewing up the crotch in a pair of old trousers.