From: tsm@fastmail.ca   
      
   Julian  wrote:   
   > On 18/02/2026 21:43, Tara wrote:   
   >> Julian  wrote:   
   >>> On 18/02/2026 16:39, Tara wrote:   
   >>>> On Feb 18, 2026 at 11:15:57 AM EST, "Wilson"    
   wrote:   
   >>>>   
   >>>>> On 2/18/2026 11:07 AM, Tara wrote:   
   >>>>>> On Feb 18, 2026 at 11:00:04 AM EST, "Wilson"    
   wrote:   
   >>>>>>   
   >>>>>>> On 2/18/2026 10:36 AM, Julian wrote:   
   >>>>>>>> On 18/02/2026 15:28, Wilson wrote:   
   >>>>>>>>> On 2/17/2026 6:20 PM, Tara wrote:   
   >>>>>>>>>> Tara  wrote:   
   >>>>>>>>>>> On Feb 17, 2026 at 4:24:25 PM EST, "Julian"    
   >>>>>>>>>>> wrote:   
   >>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> I’ve got a new thriller out this week, under my pen name of S.K.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Tremayne. I am pleased with the book, and I believe it’s   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> entertaining. I   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> am also aware that, in a tough and competitive market, that may   
   not be   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> enough for it to succeed. I am even more aware that readers might   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> decide   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> the book is dreck. They might give me one star reviews, and no   
   sales.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Then the book will crater, my publishers will probably abandon   
   me, and   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> my nice career will drift to an end.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> And that, of course, is how it should be. No one in any career is   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> entitled to a free ride. That especially applies to people who get   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> to do   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> a desirable, creative job such as novel writing. Whether you’re   
   a   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> writer, actor, director, sculptor or musician – if you want that   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> enviably fun creative profession, you live and die by public   
   approval;   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> and if you are bad, goodbye.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Unless, of course, you are an architect. I was reminded of this   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> peculiar   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> anomaly by last week’s furore over the latest architectural   
   wart to   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> attach itself to London’s battered face: the already notorious   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> ‘Belgrove   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> House’, that now dominates a prime corner of Euston Road, where   
   it   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> sits   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> right next to King’s Cross and St Pancras.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> I presume it has been situated in London after the original   
   design was   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> rejected by a horrified Uzbek government, as being too ugly for   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Tashkent.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> If you have not seen it yet, the best way to get a sense is to   
   look at   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> photos like the one here.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> https://x.com/ianvisits/status/2020440287785443433   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Briefly. The second best way is for me to describe it, but that is   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> actually quite hard. Because it’s difficult to verbally capture   
   this   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> weird, stupid and meaningless collision of styles, materials,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> dimensions. The closest visual analogy, to my mind, is one of   
   those   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> plates piled high at a hotel buffet by an idiot: with a splodge of   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> curry, some sauerkraut, five potatoes, some lemon pie, a lamb   
   cutlet,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> smoked herring, and several cheesy crackers, and everything banal   
   and   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> tasteless even before you smush them together.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> In short, the building is appalling, and it’s not going to get   
   better   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> over time. It is a dud. A turkey. A calamitous flop. It is the   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Millennium Dome. It is Fyre Festival. It is Triangle, the BBC soap   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> opera   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> set on a North Sea ferry route. It is Raise the Titanic. It is   
   Harry   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Hill’s I Can’t Sing. It is Keir Starmer’s prime ministerial   
   career,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> rendered in concrete and plastic. It is my first novel, Absent   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Fathers,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> which got a cheque for zero pounds zero pence, as a computer   
   could not   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> believe an author could sell so few copies, so sent a cheque   
   anyway.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Finally, it is the architectural equivalent of Via Galactica   
   (1972), a   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> space-themed musical with actors on trampolines, which lasted   
   seven   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> performances.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> But here’s the thing. For all the creative disasters listed   
   above,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> someone responsible paid a price. Even the lavishly coddled   
   Millennium   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Dome project damaged careers. And yet, if you design and erect a   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> hideous   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> building, equivalent to these aesthetic catastrophes, you pay no   
   price   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> at all. And this despite the fact that, unlike a rubbish novel,   
   you   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> can’t chuck a bad building in a bin. No, the building squats   
   there,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> for   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> decades, blighting the lives of everyone who must look at it. And   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> given   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> that this particular building is situated in one of the most   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> conspicuous   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> sites in the capital, opposite two of its grandest railway   
   stations,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> that is going to be a lot of people.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Worse, there’s a decent chance the architects of this carbuncle   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> will get   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> an award. Because that’s what they do in architecture world.   
   They have   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> hideous ideas, then they force them on the rest of us, and then   
   they   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> give each other prizes. Until, about 40 years down the line,   
   everyone   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> accepts the obvious truth, and the pile of ugliness is finally   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> demolished.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> If you need proof, just look at the lists. Salford’s laughable   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Centenary   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Building, Britain’s very first Stirling Prize winner (in 1996),   
   was   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> set   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> to be knocked down just 30 years later, to much applause. The   
   Tricorn   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Centre Portsmouth won the Civic Trust award in 1967 and yet was   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> demolished in 2004. Pimlico Comprehensive School collected a RIBA   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> prize,   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> then it was flattened in despair. Gateshead’s Trinity Square   
   car park   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> was recognised as a ‘most outstanding modernist building’ by   
   the 20th   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> century society after it was blasted to hell. Add to this, our own   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Belgrove House: yes it won a World Architecture Festival Award in   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> 2023.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Yes, they’ve already given it an award. Perhaps they got   
   excited by   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> the   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> potential ugliness. In any other art form, failure is failure. In   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> architecture, terrible failure makes for a garlanded career.   
   >>>>>>>>>>>>   
   >>>>>>>>>>>> Clearly, what is needed is some kind of disincentive for   
   architects. A   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)