I received a shock this morning, sitting quietly on a jam-packed train as usual, reading through the newspaper about G20 summits, financial crises, etc – worked my way through all of the main paper to the obits and weather (ignored the sports as usual), then opened the second paper, which is usually full of rather vacuous fashion and "human [lack of] interest" stories along lines of "man became house husband while wife went back to work after having baby and describes in minute detail what it is like to peel potatoes" or "Jade Goody deconstructed where's the cash for the accompanying ads". I usually skip briskly through these to get to the puzzles on the back page, so I can get the crossword and codeword done by Vauxhall, leaving the fiendish and killer sudokus to the tube journey to Kings Cross – with the Polygon in reserve if it is the beginning of the week (when the sudokus are easier).
Well, after all that preamble, there I was quietly sitting there when I opened a page and – this is what I saw. (Article is here.) It is a more interesting than average interview (not that I am biased), and completely threw me off my stride as far as the codeword was concerned. I think they really need to give the commuters some warning if they are going to include material like this in the paper.
I thought that those interested in Scandinavian crime fiction might like this quote: …. "his characters seem burdened by profound inner sadness. Is this melancholia part of him? “Maybe,” he says, seriously. “Although I like laughing at myself. But I do recognise that part of me.” Is it connected to his Danish roots and gloomy Scandinavian heritage? “Maybe,” he says again, still serious. “Although that’s an easy out, I suppose.” And this urge compulsively to create, how does that relate, exactly, to who you are? He sighs, sits back and, as if beginning anew the fairytale story of Viggo Mortensen, announces softly: “For as long as I can remember, even as a little boy, I used to think it was unfair that someday I was going to die.” The story of Mortensen begins in New York, where he was born, but quickly moves to South America, where he was raised, the eldest of three boys, by his Danish father, also called Viggo, and American mother, Grace. The family remained in Argentina, where Viggo Sr managed a chicken farm, until 1969, when the parents divorced and Viggo Jr moved with his mother and brothers to New York State. It was around this time that Mortensen began questioning the nature of mortality. “Whose idea was it?” he would ask. “I didn’t decide to come to this Earth and I certainly don’t want to leave it now that I’m here.” "
There are more musings about mortality, and the lack of need for amassing a fortune making rubbish movies, in the interview. Maybe Mr M should attempt writing a crime fiction book – he has done most other creative things.