Shameless

The Dutch frown upon outpourings of emotion. (Except of course when it concerns the national soccer team.) Unlike in the USA or the UK, a book can only be literature if it is either dark, or cynical, or both. The guy who is considered to be the pinacle of Dutch written artistry just had a book published about a guy named Xavier who tries to become the long-awaited Jewish Messiah. Xavier does this by translating Mein Kampf into Jiddish.

You probably feel where this is heading.

We tend not to like exuberance either, which is probably why we tolerate the usage of MDMA and other drugs: it gives us an excuse to do outrageous stuff like hugging one another. (This also explains a lot about English drinking behaviour, but let's not get side-tracked.)

How then is it possible that over 5 million Dutch watched the televised memorial service for folk singer André Hazes, someone who made a living writing extremely sentimental songs about delivering letters to his deceased mum in heaven (using a kite, no less!), and celebrating Christmas on his own. Yesterday night they managed to fill an entire stadium with mourners. Not a small one either, the ArenA can hold about 50,000 people.

Like every Dutchman, I've jelled along once or twice when one of Hazes' songs was played in a pub. That's about as far as my appreciation for his music goes. There was a bit more to him though, which can probably best be summarized as sincerity. Hazes didn't act. He didn't just sing desperate songs, he felt desperate most of the time, which probably explains the gallons of lager he gulped down on a daily basis. Apparently, sincerity makes shamelessness bearable even for the Dutch.

It is by far preferable to religious heroes translating Third Reich literature.

22:20

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