From: julianlzb87@gmail.com
On 18/02/2026 22:46, Tara wrote:
> Julian wrote:
>> On 18/02/2026 22:14, Tara wrote:
>>> 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
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* Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)
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