Alan Wall

Heaven, hell and Northampton

Over 1,000 pages long, Jerusalem slips in and out of time, embracing Charlemagne, Einstein and Thomas Becket. You’ll emerge dazed — and dazzled by its brilliance

issue 26 November 2016

A century ago, Sir Hubert Parry set Blake’s ‘Jerusalem’ to music. The lyric had been written 100 years earlier and was part of Blake’s desperate lament for the fallenness of England. What might have been the golden streets of a holy city was instead a place of mourning, the site of dark satanic mills. He never himself gave it the title ‘Jerusalem’. Parry took up the lines and turned them into an anthem of fierce hope, sung ever since by the Women’s Institute and many other worthy bodies. The insistence is always that Jerusalem is here and now, if only we had spirits large enough first to imagine and then to build it.

And so, for Alan Moore, Jerusalem is Northampton, where he was born and raised. More specifically, it is the area of Northampton called the Boroughs: a place these days of drug addiction, theft, prostitution and whatever other delights our modern urban world has to offer.

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