Stoner
Length Of Time In Possession : Week and a half
Stoner, by John Williams published in 1965 has been experiencing something of a renaissance in 2013, finding itself suddenly acclaimed as a forgotten modern classic and rocketing up best seller lists all over the place. It was picked for one of my book clubs.
Stoner is the story of an ordinary man who lives an unfulfilled life, his narrow existence on a farm leads him unexpectedly to university where he discovers English Literature and enters teaching.
What one would expect then here is the uplifting story about the transformative power of literature in one man's life, but Stoner is very much not that book.
William Stoner is a nice man and a good man, yet his life though he escaped the farm remains narrow, unhappy, disappointing and unfulfilled, and academia proves his only refuge.
There are some nice moments of action, his dispute with fellow academic Hollis Lomax for example and the early stages of his relationship with Edith and his relationship with Katherine.
The most interesting and heartbreaking character is Grace Stoner, William's unhappy daughter with whom his special connection is deliberately sabotaged. There is a wonderfully written paragraph towards the end about her failure to blossom.
I found myself repeatedly furious with Stoner's apparent inertia and inability to turn his life around. The novel is inherently sad in fact I would go as far as to call it depressing. As a reading experience I would probably compare it to is Bernard Malamud's The Assistant. Like The Assistant I didn't so much enjoy it as appreciate it on an intellectual level.
It's a tale which examines the ordinary man and the ordinary, slightly unrewarding life. I found it hard to understand the idea espoused at the start : that he was forgotten shortly after dying by all who knew him; given that his rivalry with Lomax achieved near mythic status at the university.
Many things have been said about Stoner of late that it is a great book, that it is almost perfect that is a work of art, and perhaps it is all those things, but it's very sad and it made me sad and therefore I didn't like it very much. It made me miserable.
Verdict: 10/10 for the writing and probably 6 for enjoyment
Destination : Charity Shop
Wednesday 28 August 2013
Tuesday 27 August 2013
Repost : A Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes
A Sense Of An Ending
I don't normally repost anything but, I read A Sense Of An Ending 2 years ago, and read it again for book club this weekend, so it counts as having been read this year too. I have added extra detail upon second reflection, and made some edits.
Winner of the 2011 Man Booker Prize, Julian Barnes broke the curse having previously been unsuccessful with Flaubert's Parrot in 1984, England, England in 1998 and Arthur and George in 2005. I hadn't read any of his previous work but I really enjoyed this book, and will on the strength of it absolutely seek out some of his other works.
It is essentially a short novel, coming in at just 150 pages, which makes me wonder whether it is in fact a novella or an extended short story. It definitely does have the 'feel' of a short story about it. And it is therefore difficult to review without spoilers, but I'm going to try my best.
Tony Webster is an ordinary middle aged man who has had a fairly unremarkable life, he married, he had a child, he divorced as so many do. But when something occurs out of the blue, the past returns to haunt him and he is forced to re-examine his history in relation to his former schoolfriend Adrian Finn; a charismatic, clever, serious boy from a broken home whose life story became linked to his in a way that Tony had never imagined nor even given consideration to.
This book is in a way about the transgressions of youth, but it also has relevance to anyone of any age. In a temper Tony said some thoughtless and spiteful things, which, in many ways would be the default reaction of most people who are placed in the situation he is placed in, particularly a young man of his age at the time. But, this act of thoughtlessness, an act that he never really dwelt upon in the years that followed had massive repercussions for several lives thereafter.
One thing I noted on the second read was the important things it has to say about history. At one point Adrian Finn calls history "the point where the failures of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation" Particularly in individual lives as opposed to accepted global history. The recollections of 2 individuals about the one incident in both their lives may vary widely, what for one person is a terrible regret that they have pondered at length is for the other but a blip on their radar that they never dwelt upon.
This book gave me real pause for thought, as it made me think about the impact that our actions have on other people's stories. Even if what we say about the person is true, though in Tony's case it wasn't so much that; a selfish need to "get back" at someone or to find a means of expressing our feelings can cause a chain reaction the likes of which we never expected or were never aware. What happens is not Tony's "fault" per-se, he couldn't possibly have anticipated it, but yet it wouldn't have happened without that one action on his part, or....would it? It's a novel about making an error in the heat of the moment.
Then, as an older man this is something he is left to consider possibly the rest of his life, and never get the sense of an ending, the facts he possesses about the past are not entire yet it is clear that one person at least places the burden of blame squarely upon his shoulders. Is it really Tony's fault? We at book club said no...there were extenuating circumstances, but, the wounded recipient only cares about placing blame and not about the multitude of actions by many people that led ultimately to the conclusion. At the same time, they have every right to seek to place blame, and so, like everything in life the situation exists in shades of grey.
The consequence of this book has caused a certain level of guilt by proxy for me. An examination of points in my life whereby I did or said or wrote something with only thought for my own feeling and not the feelings of the person on the receiving end. Even if you are "in the right" factually, morally, or just in your own mind, you don't know what chain reaction of events you may have unwittingly sparked.
For a book to have an impact of this kind upon you, to make you consider your own life and psychology, it rises above being "just a story" and I was delighted to see this win the prize. 10/10 for the simple fact it is a book you will continue to think on long after you've closed it.
I don't normally repost anything but, I read A Sense Of An Ending 2 years ago, and read it again for book club this weekend, so it counts as having been read this year too. I have added extra detail upon second reflection, and made some edits.
Winner of the 2011 Man Booker Prize, Julian Barnes broke the curse having previously been unsuccessful with Flaubert's Parrot in 1984, England, England in 1998 and Arthur and George in 2005. I hadn't read any of his previous work but I really enjoyed this book, and will on the strength of it absolutely seek out some of his other works.
It is essentially a short novel, coming in at just 150 pages, which makes me wonder whether it is in fact a novella or an extended short story. It definitely does have the 'feel' of a short story about it. And it is therefore difficult to review without spoilers, but I'm going to try my best.
Tony Webster is an ordinary middle aged man who has had a fairly unremarkable life, he married, he had a child, he divorced as so many do. But when something occurs out of the blue, the past returns to haunt him and he is forced to re-examine his history in relation to his former schoolfriend Adrian Finn; a charismatic, clever, serious boy from a broken home whose life story became linked to his in a way that Tony had never imagined nor even given consideration to.
This book is in a way about the transgressions of youth, but it also has relevance to anyone of any age. In a temper Tony said some thoughtless and spiteful things, which, in many ways would be the default reaction of most people who are placed in the situation he is placed in, particularly a young man of his age at the time. But, this act of thoughtlessness, an act that he never really dwelt upon in the years that followed had massive repercussions for several lives thereafter.
One thing I noted on the second read was the important things it has to say about history. At one point Adrian Finn calls history "the point where the failures of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation" Particularly in individual lives as opposed to accepted global history. The recollections of 2 individuals about the one incident in both their lives may vary widely, what for one person is a terrible regret that they have pondered at length is for the other but a blip on their radar that they never dwelt upon.
This book gave me real pause for thought, as it made me think about the impact that our actions have on other people's stories. Even if what we say about the person is true, though in Tony's case it wasn't so much that; a selfish need to "get back" at someone or to find a means of expressing our feelings can cause a chain reaction the likes of which we never expected or were never aware. What happens is not Tony's "fault" per-se, he couldn't possibly have anticipated it, but yet it wouldn't have happened without that one action on his part, or....would it? It's a novel about making an error in the heat of the moment.
Then, as an older man this is something he is left to consider possibly the rest of his life, and never get the sense of an ending, the facts he possesses about the past are not entire yet it is clear that one person at least places the burden of blame squarely upon his shoulders. Is it really Tony's fault? We at book club said no...there were extenuating circumstances, but, the wounded recipient only cares about placing blame and not about the multitude of actions by many people that led ultimately to the conclusion. At the same time, they have every right to seek to place blame, and so, like everything in life the situation exists in shades of grey.
The consequence of this book has caused a certain level of guilt by proxy for me. An examination of points in my life whereby I did or said or wrote something with only thought for my own feeling and not the feelings of the person on the receiving end. Even if you are "in the right" factually, morally, or just in your own mind, you don't know what chain reaction of events you may have unwittingly sparked.
For a book to have an impact of this kind upon you, to make you consider your own life and psychology, it rises above being "just a story" and I was delighted to see this win the prize. 10/10 for the simple fact it is a book you will continue to think on long after you've closed it.
Saturday 17 August 2013
Book #50 The Lion Sleeps Tonight by Rian Malan
The Lion Sleeps Tonight
Length Of Time In Possession : 1 day
My Traitor's Heart, by Rian Malan is the single best autobiography I've ever read. It's stunning. I had never seen any further work by Rian Malan for sale until I spotted The Lion Sleeps Tonight in Waterstones about a month ago. I couldn't afford to buy it at that moment, and as luck would have it, saw it in my library two days ago.
The Lion Sleeps Tonight is a collection of essays and articles that Malan has written for various publications including The Spectator since My Traitor's Heart came out 23 years ago.
These articles cover a range of topics from the titular story which is a reference to the famous song by The Tokens but was actually written by a South African Zulu who received no recompense, to articles about Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma, the Miss World Competition, the film Invictus, and Winnie Mandela.
By far the most fascinating of these are two articles written about the problem of AIDS in Africa. Malan, not a fan of Thabo Mbeki, is offered a chance to mock his AIDS denying stance by the magazine Rolling Stone, and jumps on it, but as he engages in his research he discovers that the globally accepted AIDS statistics and the actual picture do not match up.
Malan has always been an interesting character, owing to his descendancy from one of the main architects of Apartheid - Daniel Malan. At times he is a pessimist, prophesising a forthcoming ethnic cleansing in South Africa and at times he seems overtly racist referring affirmatively in one instance to Ian Smith's remarks about the future of Rhodesia. Malan's openly acknowledged and honest struggle against the racist indoctrination of his past is one of the things which makes his voice such a unique one to hear.
In spite of these issues, his perspectives from the "other side of the colour divide" are consistently fascinating as is the picture he builds of the modern post-Apartheid, struggling and confused, yet weathering it out nation.
I have always enjoyed anything about Africa and this collection is well worth a read.
Verdict : 8/10
Destination : Return To Library
Length Of Time In Possession : 1 day
My Traitor's Heart, by Rian Malan is the single best autobiography I've ever read. It's stunning. I had never seen any further work by Rian Malan for sale until I spotted The Lion Sleeps Tonight in Waterstones about a month ago. I couldn't afford to buy it at that moment, and as luck would have it, saw it in my library two days ago.
The Lion Sleeps Tonight is a collection of essays and articles that Malan has written for various publications including The Spectator since My Traitor's Heart came out 23 years ago.
These articles cover a range of topics from the titular story which is a reference to the famous song by The Tokens but was actually written by a South African Zulu who received no recompense, to articles about Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma, the Miss World Competition, the film Invictus, and Winnie Mandela.
By far the most fascinating of these are two articles written about the problem of AIDS in Africa. Malan, not a fan of Thabo Mbeki, is offered a chance to mock his AIDS denying stance by the magazine Rolling Stone, and jumps on it, but as he engages in his research he discovers that the globally accepted AIDS statistics and the actual picture do not match up.
Malan has always been an interesting character, owing to his descendancy from one of the main architects of Apartheid - Daniel Malan. At times he is a pessimist, prophesising a forthcoming ethnic cleansing in South Africa and at times he seems overtly racist referring affirmatively in one instance to Ian Smith's remarks about the future of Rhodesia. Malan's openly acknowledged and honest struggle against the racist indoctrination of his past is one of the things which makes his voice such a unique one to hear.
In spite of these issues, his perspectives from the "other side of the colour divide" are consistently fascinating as is the picture he builds of the modern post-Apartheid, struggling and confused, yet weathering it out nation.
I have always enjoyed anything about Africa and this collection is well worth a read.
Verdict : 8/10
Destination : Return To Library
Book #49 A Room Of One's Own by Virginia Woolf
A Room Of One's Own
Length Of Time In Possession : 1 day
I did a module on Virginia Woolf at university. I read Jacob's Room, Orlando, To The Lighthouse, Mrs Dalloway and Between The Acts, I also read a lot of general remarks by her, but I did not read A Room Of One's Own. I actually got a first in the essay I wrote on Woolf, a fact that still baffles me to this day, as I generally found no particular affinity for her as an author.
I saw A Room Of One's Own up for grabs in the library, and as it's rather slight, thought : Why Not?
It's an extended essay over several chapters, and interesting from a number of perspectives. It is borne of a much shorter address that Woolf was asked to give to Oxbridge on Women And Fiction, and generally is a feminist perspective on the historical progress of women as authors. Ironically, it's now a historical piece in itself, and one far detached from the realities of today's female writers.
Woolf, from a wealthy, well connected background argues that to succeed as a female writer one needs an independent means, (Woolf rather quaintly recommends £500 a year) and a room of one's own to write in.
She talks about Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen, how in Austen's case writing, prior to her fame, was almost a dirty secret, how Charlotte's frustrations at the limitations of her sex can be seen in Jane Eyre almost to its detraction as a work of fiction. (I've always thought Jane Eyre over-rated)
The male reaction to female writing and how it was seen as an intellectual threat is a diverting topic and the sexism of even Woolf's own era extraordinary.
Perhaps the most interesting of all her reflections is on that of "Shakespeare's Sister" - a fictional entity who if she had wished to pursue the same career as her brother would have been laughed at and degraded, and would have most likely died a victim of sexual exploitation on a roadside near Elephant and Castle. Bleak as this is, I believe Woolf is correct nonetheless.
Where 'A Room Of One's Own' gave me most cause to reflect was in the discussion of women pre-Bronte and pre-Austen who were routinely silenced and had no creative outlet and were expected to have no opinion. It made me think that women today with literary ambitions should pursue them to the fullest, because we are lucky to live in far more enlightened times.
Woolf slightly misses the mark towards the end with the idea that even so, women's writing would remain the province of the upper class, working class women having no time for such pursuits with their poverty and life of drudgery. Snobbish though this may sound to our ears, Woolf even though she was a progressive simply could not conceive of two things : the world women know in 2013 and the literary world of 2013, a world were gender, sexuality and every social class is represented without any notion that this is something remarkable. If at times we grow complacent with the ways of the modern world we should remember just how huge a social and cultural transformation occurred throughout 20th Century Britain and just how fortunate, women particularly, are as a result.
One wonders what on earth Virginia Woolf would have made of it.
Verdict : 9/10
Destination : Return To Library
Length Of Time In Possession : 1 day
I did a module on Virginia Woolf at university. I read Jacob's Room, Orlando, To The Lighthouse, Mrs Dalloway and Between The Acts, I also read a lot of general remarks by her, but I did not read A Room Of One's Own. I actually got a first in the essay I wrote on Woolf, a fact that still baffles me to this day, as I generally found no particular affinity for her as an author.
I saw A Room Of One's Own up for grabs in the library, and as it's rather slight, thought : Why Not?
It's an extended essay over several chapters, and interesting from a number of perspectives. It is borne of a much shorter address that Woolf was asked to give to Oxbridge on Women And Fiction, and generally is a feminist perspective on the historical progress of women as authors. Ironically, it's now a historical piece in itself, and one far detached from the realities of today's female writers.
Woolf, from a wealthy, well connected background argues that to succeed as a female writer one needs an independent means, (Woolf rather quaintly recommends £500 a year) and a room of one's own to write in.
She talks about Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen, how in Austen's case writing, prior to her fame, was almost a dirty secret, how Charlotte's frustrations at the limitations of her sex can be seen in Jane Eyre almost to its detraction as a work of fiction. (I've always thought Jane Eyre over-rated)
The male reaction to female writing and how it was seen as an intellectual threat is a diverting topic and the sexism of even Woolf's own era extraordinary.
Perhaps the most interesting of all her reflections is on that of "Shakespeare's Sister" - a fictional entity who if she had wished to pursue the same career as her brother would have been laughed at and degraded, and would have most likely died a victim of sexual exploitation on a roadside near Elephant and Castle. Bleak as this is, I believe Woolf is correct nonetheless.
Where 'A Room Of One's Own' gave me most cause to reflect was in the discussion of women pre-Bronte and pre-Austen who were routinely silenced and had no creative outlet and were expected to have no opinion. It made me think that women today with literary ambitions should pursue them to the fullest, because we are lucky to live in far more enlightened times.
Woolf slightly misses the mark towards the end with the idea that even so, women's writing would remain the province of the upper class, working class women having no time for such pursuits with their poverty and life of drudgery. Snobbish though this may sound to our ears, Woolf even though she was a progressive simply could not conceive of two things : the world women know in 2013 and the literary world of 2013, a world were gender, sexuality and every social class is represented without any notion that this is something remarkable. If at times we grow complacent with the ways of the modern world we should remember just how huge a social and cultural transformation occurred throughout 20th Century Britain and just how fortunate, women particularly, are as a result.
One wonders what on earth Virginia Woolf would have made of it.
Verdict : 9/10
Destination : Return To Library
Friday 16 August 2013
Poem : And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
I am blogging this poem because it's been in my head all week. Aside from the fact that my ancestors were not slaves, this poem reminds me of my own story of strength, courage, and survival.
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15623#sthash.XVkQJBjy.dpuf
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15623#sthash.XVkQJBjy.dpuf
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15623#sthash.XVkQJBjy.dpuf
Sunday 11 August 2013
Book #48 Broken Homes by Ben Aaronovitch
Broken Homes
Length Of Time In Possession : 2 weeks
Broken Homes is the 4th in Ben Aaronovitch's Folly Series, following PC Peter Grant, a young copper who at the beginning of the series, met a ghost and suddenly found himself a member of the Metropolitan Police's magic division.
The novel carries on the storylines from previous books, so I won't delve too far, for there would be spoilers. This time the mystery revolves around a housing estate called Skygarden.
It continues to expand the magical universe it is set in as Peter, Lesley, and Nightingale continue to hunt the Faceless Man, and the Little Crocodile society, it also brings back the always good value Rivers sisters, Fairy Zach, and others we met in the previous novels which is nice.
I also liked how we are given more detail about how Peter is slowly learning and studying his magical craft, necessary in the development of a clumsy apprentice.
There is good characterization of newly introduced surrounding players who pop off the page easily with pithy but greatly visual description.
I really enjoyed this one, having had some issues with both books two and three, I loved a certain passage which made a remark about schizophrenia, applicable to mental illness in general.
I also really loved the twist, which I never saw coming at all.
I knew if I stuck with this story it would pay off if I ignored the bits about the first two sequels I found a bit shaky, and kept up with it. I think Broken Homes is a return to form for this saga, but obviously if you've not read it you do have to start with Rivers Of London.
I'd absolutely love to see this optioned as a TV series, its sense of Britishness would work more on the small screen than the large.
Verdict : 8/10
Destination : ebook storage
Length Of Time In Possession : 2 weeks
Broken Homes is the 4th in Ben Aaronovitch's Folly Series, following PC Peter Grant, a young copper who at the beginning of the series, met a ghost and suddenly found himself a member of the Metropolitan Police's magic division.
The novel carries on the storylines from previous books, so I won't delve too far, for there would be spoilers. This time the mystery revolves around a housing estate called Skygarden.
It continues to expand the magical universe it is set in as Peter, Lesley, and Nightingale continue to hunt the Faceless Man, and the Little Crocodile society, it also brings back the always good value Rivers sisters, Fairy Zach, and others we met in the previous novels which is nice.
I also liked how we are given more detail about how Peter is slowly learning and studying his magical craft, necessary in the development of a clumsy apprentice.
There is good characterization of newly introduced surrounding players who pop off the page easily with pithy but greatly visual description.
I really enjoyed this one, having had some issues with both books two and three, I loved a certain passage which made a remark about schizophrenia, applicable to mental illness in general.
I also really loved the twist, which I never saw coming at all.
I knew if I stuck with this story it would pay off if I ignored the bits about the first two sequels I found a bit shaky, and kept up with it. I think Broken Homes is a return to form for this saga, but obviously if you've not read it you do have to start with Rivers Of London.
I'd absolutely love to see this optioned as a TV series, its sense of Britishness would work more on the small screen than the large.
Verdict : 8/10
Destination : ebook storage
Book #47 Memories Of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Memories Of My Melancholy Whores
Length Of Time In Possession : 2 weeks
I have wanted to read Marquez for some years but on each occasion I have tried to read either Love In The Time Of Cholera or A Hundred Years of Solitude, I have failed in the early stages of the novel. This failure is an ongoing source of personal embarrassment and I do still fully intend to read both.
I came across Memories Of My Melancholy Whores in the library and given that it is relatively slight, just over 100 pages thought I'd give this a crack at finally losing my Marquez virginity.
The novel concerns an elderly journalist, unnamed throughout the novel who has only ever had sex with whores. On his 90th birthday he decides that what he most wants, as a gift to himself, is to deflower an adolescent virgin.
At the beginning of this novel, I thought I was about to read an extremely distasteful tale of a dirty old man, engaging in a vile abuse that was tantamount to rape. I was fully prepared to throw the book aside in disgust.
But then, when he meets his again unnamed whore, whom he christens Delgadina, she has taken valerian out of fear, and has fallen into a deep sleep, and the two do not have intercourse.
What follows as a result of this failure to fulfill his plans turns into a love story of incredibly unusual parameters and is on occasion very touching and fable-like.
I don't think I've read a story like this before, and I really admired and enjoyed it.
Odd and unique, I think I would recommend this to people who enjoy reading stories that are a bit different from the norm and the mainstream.
I hope that in the rest of this year, I can finally read one of his larger novels.
Verdict : 9/10
Destination : Return To Library
Length Of Time In Possession : 2 weeks
I have wanted to read Marquez for some years but on each occasion I have tried to read either Love In The Time Of Cholera or A Hundred Years of Solitude, I have failed in the early stages of the novel. This failure is an ongoing source of personal embarrassment and I do still fully intend to read both.
I came across Memories Of My Melancholy Whores in the library and given that it is relatively slight, just over 100 pages thought I'd give this a crack at finally losing my Marquez virginity.
The novel concerns an elderly journalist, unnamed throughout the novel who has only ever had sex with whores. On his 90th birthday he decides that what he most wants, as a gift to himself, is to deflower an adolescent virgin.
At the beginning of this novel, I thought I was about to read an extremely distasteful tale of a dirty old man, engaging in a vile abuse that was tantamount to rape. I was fully prepared to throw the book aside in disgust.
But then, when he meets his again unnamed whore, whom he christens Delgadina, she has taken valerian out of fear, and has fallen into a deep sleep, and the two do not have intercourse.
What follows as a result of this failure to fulfill his plans turns into a love story of incredibly unusual parameters and is on occasion very touching and fable-like.
I don't think I've read a story like this before, and I really admired and enjoyed it.
Odd and unique, I think I would recommend this to people who enjoy reading stories that are a bit different from the norm and the mainstream.
I hope that in the rest of this year, I can finally read one of his larger novels.
Verdict : 9/10
Destination : Return To Library
Book #46 The Red House Mystery by AA Milne
The Red House Mystery
Length Of Time In Possession : 2/3 Days
The Red House Mystery is from the pen of AA Milne, legendary Winnie-The-Pooh author. Personally, I was unaware he had ever written a novel for the adult market.
The novel is an amateur detective story, in the introduction Milne writes :
"It is the amateur detective who alone can expose the guilty man, by the light of cool inductive reasoning and the logic of stern remorseless facts"
Quite right too, some might say.
The amateur sleuth in question is one Antony Gillingham who, hearing his good friend Bill Beverley is staying at The Red House decides to pay him a call. Upon entering the house, he discovers he is in the immediate aftermath of a murder, but to Gillingham, something doesn't feel quite right and he pursues his own investigation into the matter.
Published in the 1920's the novel makes innumerable references to Sherlock Holmes, indeed Gillingham appoints Beverley his Watson and constantly refers to him as such. For me, personally, this endeared me to the novel but when we discussed this at Book Club some people felt that this weakened the novel and made it rather derivative.
Indeed, it is hard to know whether Milne intended simply to pay homage to Arthur Conan Doyle or whether it is a pale rip off of Doyle's genius and this was our ongoing debate.
Personally, I found it quite charming and as it's a fairly slight read, worth reading if you like posh types in country houses engaging in an Agatha Christie type scenario.
Verdict 7/10
Destination : ebook storage
Length Of Time In Possession : 2/3 Days
The Red House Mystery is from the pen of AA Milne, legendary Winnie-The-Pooh author. Personally, I was unaware he had ever written a novel for the adult market.
The novel is an amateur detective story, in the introduction Milne writes :
"It is the amateur detective who alone can expose the guilty man, by the light of cool inductive reasoning and the logic of stern remorseless facts"
Quite right too, some might say.
The amateur sleuth in question is one Antony Gillingham who, hearing his good friend Bill Beverley is staying at The Red House decides to pay him a call. Upon entering the house, he discovers he is in the immediate aftermath of a murder, but to Gillingham, something doesn't feel quite right and he pursues his own investigation into the matter.
Published in the 1920's the novel makes innumerable references to Sherlock Holmes, indeed Gillingham appoints Beverley his Watson and constantly refers to him as such. For me, personally, this endeared me to the novel but when we discussed this at Book Club some people felt that this weakened the novel and made it rather derivative.
Indeed, it is hard to know whether Milne intended simply to pay homage to Arthur Conan Doyle or whether it is a pale rip off of Doyle's genius and this was our ongoing debate.
Personally, I found it quite charming and as it's a fairly slight read, worth reading if you like posh types in country houses engaging in an Agatha Christie type scenario.
Verdict 7/10
Destination : ebook storage
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