Bell on Bell: an authorial odyssey
A follow-up to my first Bell on Bell piece, this post is inspired by Richard Ayoade’s book Ayoade on Ayoade, which I strongly recommend if you like the idea of book where someone relentlessly takes the piss out of both himself and the genre of film criticism. Oh, and you really, really like footnotes, which, obviously, all the best people do.
Despite our tempestuous first interview, Bell has agreed to a second one, in what is clearly a blatant attempt to promote her book. Our last interview revealed an academic of – at best – middling reputation, quick to take offence at perceived slights and with a misplaced sense of confidence that no one who has met her fully understands. Will I be able to delve beneath Bell’s surface to find out what makes her tick? Join me for our hard-hitting, and occasionally violent, second interview.
BELL:1 In five words, describe your book Silent but Deadly.
BELL: Not this again! Wasn’t it precisely this line of questioning that derailed the last interview?
BELL: Answer the question, please.
BELL: Fine. It’s an extraordinary book that everyone should read. Actually, let me rephrase. It’s an extraordinary book that everyone should purchase. Don’t borrow it from a friend is what I’m saying.
BELL: That’s eight words, not five.
BELL: Well, that’s your fault. Five is a completely arbitrary number – actually, that’s not entirely true, given that it’s a prime. I have a whole chapter on number superstitions in my book.
BELL: [rolls eyes] Do you have a whole chapter on people with an insatiable appetite for self-promotion as well?
BELL: No, but I do have a whole chapter on bitches. It’s called ‘Must love dogs’.
BELL: Are you simultaneously trying to insult me and promote your book at the same time?
BELL: No, of course not, although I do have it on good authority that you smell. In fact, there’s a whole chapter on that in my book; it’s called ‘Pits of despair’, which, quite frankly, is how this interview is making me feel.
A brief scuffle then ensues in which there is some light pushing and shoving, before Bell punches me in the neck (she is aiming for my head but is too uncoordinated to pull off the move2). At this point, I have little choice but to roundhouse kick her in the head and must wait for her to regain consciousness before our interview can continue.
BELL: Given that only one chapter is about farting, why did you call your book Silent but Deadly?
BELL: Only someone with the sensibility of a five year old would interpret the title in that way. It’s actually a deep and penetrating metaphor – much like the metaphor I’m using to describe the nature of the metaphor itself – for cultural patterns hidden in plain sight. Basically, the book’s title is a Rorschach test. If your mind goes to farts, well, that says something about you rather than about the book itself, doesn’t it?
BELL: In that case, how do you explain the article about your book in the Sun called, and I quote, ‘I’m an expert on farts and have written a book all about why we pass wind’.
BELL: Pass.
BELL: What do you mean, ‘pass’? You can’t just pass on the question because you don’t want to answer it. You’ve claimed that only someone with the sensibility of a five year old would interpret your book’s title as being about farting and I’ve just read out a statement you made that directly contradicts it.
BELL: I plead the fifth?
BELL: This isn’t Law and Order and you’re not in the USA. Answer the question, please.
Bell looks like she wants to punch me again, but I raise my leg threateningly3 and she subsides with a hostile, sulky demeanour.
BELL: Is this your pathetic attempt at a ‘gotcha’ moment? Look, I’m a writer for the people and I meet my readers where they are. And where the Sun’s readers are is farts – well, primarily jugglies, but also farts.4 However, for the record, I had nothing to do with that article. The dead giveaway is the use of the term ‘botty burp’. ‘Botty’ was slang for ‘vagina’ when I was a kid, and so a botty burp is something completely different from an actual fart.
At this point there is a long pause as Bell’s eyes glaze over. I can see I’ve lost her.
BELL: You’re thinking about writing a piece on queefing now, aren’t you.
BELL: Maybe, although I’m not sure it’s en brandé.
BELL: On brandy? What are you talking about?
BELL: En brandé: it’s French for ‘on brand’.5
BELL: I’m pretty sure that’s not how you pronounce ‘on brand’ in French, but whatever. Would you say that footnotes are a core part of your brand? Is that why you use so many? Some reviewers have complained about it.
BELL: [Contemptuously] No, I would not say that footnotes are a core part of my brand. I don’t have a brand. I’m not an object.
BELL: But you just talked about whether queefing was ‘on brand’.
BELL: I was speaking French, you moron. Everybody knows that words have a completely different meaning when pronounced the French way – like ressentiment and ‘resentment’, which, by the way, are two completely different things.6 Anyway, as far as footnotes go, all the greats use them: Terry Pratchett, Richard Ayoade, and a bunch of other people whose names currently escape me. It’s like people always say, ‘footnotes are life’. If you don’t like footnotes, you’re emotionally dead. On behalf of Terry Pratchett, I’m offended, because he’s actually dead and doesn’t get to enjoy them anymore.
BELL: First, literally no one says that. Second, I’m not talking about Terry Pratchett.
BELL: Exactly. Why aren’t you talking about Terry Pratchett? I don’t think I can continue to talk to someone so clearly prejudiced against Sir Terry.
The interview abruptly ends and I find myself none the wiser about Bell’s motivations, except that she really loves footnotes. And Terry Pratchett. And refuses to be pinned down when she is very clearly wrong. And is quite possibly about to write an article on vaginal flatulence.
I, Bold Bell, am the interviewer. Bland Bell is my interviewee, an anthropologist whose greatest claim to fame is her name, which is frequently misread as that of her more talented namesis:* Kristen Bell.
*Namesis: Someone famous who destroys your ability to do Google searches on your name.
For a three-year period in her early 20s, Bell was a novice in the ancient Indonesian martial art of Perisai Diri Silat, but she never progressed beyond white-green belt. To this day, she insists that her failure to move up belts was the result of blatant prejudice in the face of her refusal to buy the requisite outfit (‘pyjamas work just as well’, she insisted; ‘why on earth would I spend $50 on a pair of white karate pants?’), but the fact that she could neither kick, strike nor block effectively was clearly a contributing factor.
In the manner of Chuck Norris about to roundhouse kick someone in the head, not in the manner of a dog about to piss on a fire hydrant.
Notice Bell’s use of ‘jugglies’ here instead of ‘boobs’ – or the slightly more vulgar but still commonplace ‘tits’. Is she trying to speak in the parlance of Sun readers or is she secretly a reader of the Sun herself? She does seem surprisingly knowledgeable about the sort of content the rag publishes.
Bell has failed two French courses and most of her so-called French she learned from her sister, whose strategy for speaking French is basically to put le in front of English words and call it a day. This works for terms like ‘taxi’ and ‘bus’ but basically nothing else.
For starters, one shows you’ve read Nietzsche. In fact, using it is precisely how you show everyone you’re familiar with Nietzsche without engaging in performative reading on the tube.