I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. The subject matter is appalling, but very funny, as the blurbs say, like early Woody Allen. I can't tell you much about it without giving the plot away. Underneath all the humour are some serious ideas for consideration. What if she had survived? What difference did the new edition make? I know that makes no sense unless you've read the book, but I don't want to give anything away. There was the odd saggy moment, but it's a quick read and full of startling ideas, great Jewish humour and... well read it!
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Saturday, 5 January 2013
Review: Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie
It took me a good while to read this, pressure of work and all that. I'm not complaining about the length, unlike some reviewers. Rushdie, thanks to a not so subtle media campaign over the years, along with Martin Amis, seems to be one of those authors it's ok to be nasty about. Recent publications of a "takedown" of this book suggest that, in spite of everything that was revealed in Leveson, people will be obeying the Daily Mail in this for a good while. It's almost a "here is an Asian-looking person it's ok to hate" situation. Not that I'm saying he's perfect. But who is? The people who attack him? Those who say the silly man brought all this on himself by writing a book?
Here is a British citizen, writing a book with some satirical content, with a good deal of learning on the subject material, who was given a death sentence by some foreign power. British security forces protected him, kept him in hiding, while much of the media, many politicians decided that he wasn't worth protecting, preferring instead to appease extremists.
Anyway, the book! It's well written and honest. Yes, Rushdie does a fair bit of name-dropping, seems to compare himself with writers possibly greater than himself and has trouble staying faithful. But he has an important story to tell and he tells it very well. Some reviewers complain that not much happens, but as he was in hiding I'm not sure what could be done about that. This is Torquay, no plains of the Serengeti visible. He argues his case very strongly and is very moving towards the end, so stick with it!
I came across Fury in a bookshop a couple of days ago. It was published on the day of the 9/11 attacks, with a cover of a skyscraper with a black cloud over it.
So this is vital stuff. I might not agree with everything Rushdie says, but I defend his right to say it and write books. If he had any of my taxes to guard him, he's welcome!
Saturday, 8 December 2012
Thank you William Golding!
Haven't posted for ages, sorry! Poor health in the family has meant I haven't been able to get out much. The amount of work I've had to do has meant I've had little time to read. I'm still trying to get through Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie and Gulag by Annie Applebaum. These need to be finished before the end of term so I can tackle my reading list for the holidays.
Unable to do anything other than watch tv the other night, but also unable to find anything worth watching, I came across a documentary on William Golding. Although I haven't read his book for years, I seemed to know many of the passages read out by heart. I can't think of a more significant postwar novelist. His ability to enter a strange world and explain it fully - the last of the Neanderthals, the building of a cathedral spire - the lean, exact poetry of his prose, the great moral themes. It was reading Golding that led me to university: I found the opening pages of Free Fall hard to understand at times. I read and re-read, analysing, interpreting, and eventually broke through. This deeper ability to analyse gave me the confidence to apply to university to study Music and English.
Unfortunately, the admissions chap suggested that he had too many English students and would I mind awfully studying Russian instead? Will this decide whether you offer me a place I asked. Yes, said he, and I became a Music/Russian/French student on the spot. I'd done a term of Russian at the Burslem Delinquents High School and loved it. So I loved studying French literary theory, reading authors like Flaubert and Dostoevsky in the original language, all thanks to wanting to get to grips with Golding.
So my Christmas reading list will be his first 5 novels, I haven't read Lord of the Flies since I was 10, over 40 years ago, can't wait.
Unable to do anything other than watch tv the other night, but also unable to find anything worth watching, I came across a documentary on William Golding. Although I haven't read his book for years, I seemed to know many of the passages read out by heart. I can't think of a more significant postwar novelist. His ability to enter a strange world and explain it fully - the last of the Neanderthals, the building of a cathedral spire - the lean, exact poetry of his prose, the great moral themes. It was reading Golding that led me to university: I found the opening pages of Free Fall hard to understand at times. I read and re-read, analysing, interpreting, and eventually broke through. This deeper ability to analyse gave me the confidence to apply to university to study Music and English.
Unfortunately, the admissions chap suggested that he had too many English students and would I mind awfully studying Russian instead? Will this decide whether you offer me a place I asked. Yes, said he, and I became a Music/Russian/French student on the spot. I'd done a term of Russian at the Burslem Delinquents High School and loved it. So I loved studying French literary theory, reading authors like Flaubert and Dostoevsky in the original language, all thanks to wanting to get to grips with Golding.
So my Christmas reading list will be his first 5 novels, I haven't read Lord of the Flies since I was 10, over 40 years ago, can't wait.
Wednesday, 15 August 2012
Review: Generosity by Richard Powers
What if this tendency towards happiness was a genetic trait? Something that could be reproduced? Who would buy that treatment? For themselves, for their children? What would happen once big business and lawyers got hold of such discoveries?
All this is discussed in this thought-provoking novel. Richard Powers has produced another fascinating blend of science and how it affects ordinary human lives. I'm not quite sure why this author isn't as famous as other American writers - I consider The Time Of Our Singing to be one of the Great American novels. But feel free to tell me I'm not the only person in the UK reading his works!
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Review: Lionel Asbo
It's been a long time since I posted anything here - I don't have the energy during term time and often end up in remote parts of Scotland for my holidays. But now Summer is here I'll try to be good! I record what I read on Twitter - @dave_windsor - but again, I find it difficult to read much during term time.
Anyway! This most recent novel by Martin Amis has been slated by many critics - unfairly in my humble view. It's a comedy around the usual Amis theme of the criminal underclass, with an accurate depiction of British celebrity culture and the impoverished, culture-free life led by so many today. Critics seem to suggest that Amis has lost his youthful edge and will never be able to create works as great as "Money" and "Success". I would say that, this work, rather than inferior, is different. The author, although still dwelling on dark and often depraved subject matter, has mellowed. Or perhaps, as a narrator, he no longer stands back from this subject matter, assuming that we will pass judgment ourselves; instead he shows, just a little, that he has a heart! This previous narrative standpoint has perhaps led to some of the venom aimed at him by the press: he writes about crime and misogyny without any narrative condemnation, therefore he is a misogynist.
Here's an example of this caring side:
Des, what happens when I don't know what I'm saying?
It'll pass, Gran.
... I won't be able to open my eyes. I won't be able to close my mouth.
No, Gran. The other way round.
And he felt he was preparing for a long voyage on a dark sea where, one by one, all the stars would be going out.
No one writes like Amis, and there are the usual phrases that you just want to write down; from the swearing dogs to London's "white van sky" to "Des assumed that this feeling would one day subside, this riven feeling, with its equal parts of panic and rapture. Not soon, though. The thing was that he considered it a perfectly logical response to being alive."
Right that's enough. I have "Generosity" by Richard Powers to finish
Anyway! This most recent novel by Martin Amis has been slated by many critics - unfairly in my humble view. It's a comedy around the usual Amis theme of the criminal underclass, with an accurate depiction of British celebrity culture and the impoverished, culture-free life led by so many today. Critics seem to suggest that Amis has lost his youthful edge and will never be able to create works as great as "Money" and "Success". I would say that, this work, rather than inferior, is different. The author, although still dwelling on dark and often depraved subject matter, has mellowed. Or perhaps, as a narrator, he no longer stands back from this subject matter, assuming that we will pass judgment ourselves; instead he shows, just a little, that he has a heart! This previous narrative standpoint has perhaps led to some of the venom aimed at him by the press: he writes about crime and misogyny without any narrative condemnation, therefore he is a misogynist.
Here's an example of this caring side:
Des, what happens when I don't know what I'm saying?
It'll pass, Gran.
... I won't be able to open my eyes. I won't be able to close my mouth.
No, Gran. The other way round.
And he felt he was preparing for a long voyage on a dark sea where, one by one, all the stars would be going out.
No one writes like Amis, and there are the usual phrases that you just want to write down; from the swearing dogs to London's "white van sky" to "Des assumed that this feeling would one day subside, this riven feeling, with its equal parts of panic and rapture. Not soon, though. The thing was that he considered it a perfectly logical response to being alive."
Right that's enough. I have "Generosity" by Richard Powers to finish
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Review: State of Emergency by Dominic Sandbrook
I'm intending to spend the next year reading history books and this was an enthralling start. I imagine there is a set pattern to popular history books - references to popular culture, wit, amusing anecdotes. Whatever the format, it works here. It's an utterly absorbing account of Ted Heath's hapless government, with a superbly entertaining and illuminating range of references. The structure is topic-based, rather than strictly chronological and I would take issue with the author's views on Rising Damp and Prog rock but really, this is wonderful stuff. The current Cabinet seems to contain barely a fraction of the same talent and compassion, while facing problems that seem all too familiar.
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Review: Solar by Ian McEwan
I'm not sure how I was supposed to read this book: the rise and fall of a man with an environmental science background? A tour of global warming issues with the central character's flaws and selfishness pervading both his professional and personal lives? Anyway, I read it and thoroughly enjoyed it. It has the usual McEwan ability to draw you along - somewhere between making you want to keep reading, drawing you in and turning the screw. Some sort of combination of writing style and plot structure which means I always want to read the next McEwan novel. The scientific subject matter isn't too intrusive and, to someone who knows little about such things, seems convincing. However, the musical content of Amsterdam seemed much less convincing so maybe it's just because I don't know much science! Parts of the book are very funny, with even a farcical trying to have a wee in the Arctic moment. It didn't move me like Saturday or Atonement but I still greatly enjoyed reading it.
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Review: The Room by Emma Donoghue
People wondering about whether to read this seem to be concerned by two things: should fiction be created around such awful crimes? And is reading about such issues a suitable thing to do? Reading the blurb, and many reviews, seemed to be even more off-putting.
There are plenty of works which shamelessly milk the real life suffering of others, so these are genuine concerns. However, this novel makes a superb case for answering yes to the above questions.
Not everyone who has been through awful circumstances has the skill necessary to communicate what they need to say. We are lucky to have such writers as Primo Levi, but, on the whole, a lack of ability to write lucidly and produce a coherent structure tends to obscure, rather than illuminate experiences and lessons to be learned. The author in this case seems to have combined elements of the Kampusch and Fritzl cases. A thorough detailing of the crimes would be unbearable and voyeuristic - the device of the narrator being a 5 year old child means that we can imagine the horrors without having to read about them in some sort of sadistic crime genre setting. This device also throws up some interesting ideas - in a limited environment a table becomes Table: the only table in the non-tv world. The child's voice seems entirely authentic - in non-fiction we would never get the chance to see how such events affect one so young.
The most horrific part of the novel for me was the television interview, where a smug interviewer tries to impose her own values on experiences she cannot begin to imagine, reflecting so many attempts of the media to judge, impose dubious value judgments and package things into convenient labels and boxes, rather than genuinely discover the complexities and shades of grey that real people experience.
My final impressions, and this answers my second question about the value of writing about such crimes, were of a wonderful mother doing the utmost to bring up and protect her child - she succeeds and, in this sense at least, almost makes the crimes insignificant, compared to her triumphant imagination, invention and love.
There are plenty of works which shamelessly milk the real life suffering of others, so these are genuine concerns. However, this novel makes a superb case for answering yes to the above questions.
Not everyone who has been through awful circumstances has the skill necessary to communicate what they need to say. We are lucky to have such writers as Primo Levi, but, on the whole, a lack of ability to write lucidly and produce a coherent structure tends to obscure, rather than illuminate experiences and lessons to be learned. The author in this case seems to have combined elements of the Kampusch and Fritzl cases. A thorough detailing of the crimes would be unbearable and voyeuristic - the device of the narrator being a 5 year old child means that we can imagine the horrors without having to read about them in some sort of sadistic crime genre setting. This device also throws up some interesting ideas - in a limited environment a table becomes Table: the only table in the non-tv world. The child's voice seems entirely authentic - in non-fiction we would never get the chance to see how such events affect one so young.
The most horrific part of the novel for me was the television interview, where a smug interviewer tries to impose her own values on experiences she cannot begin to imagine, reflecting so many attempts of the media to judge, impose dubious value judgments and package things into convenient labels and boxes, rather than genuinely discover the complexities and shades of grey that real people experience.
My final impressions, and this answers my second question about the value of writing about such crimes, were of a wonderful mother doing the utmost to bring up and protect her child - she succeeds and, in this sense at least, almost makes the crimes insignificant, compared to her triumphant imagination, invention and love.
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
Amazon Kindle
I've had a Kindle since September 2010. It's changed how much I read for a couple of reasons: the books are always with me and easily portable and I like messing with technology so this is a way of leading myself back to a more useful pastime. I also have a Samsung Galaxy Tab, but the Kindle is far easier on the eye and has a battery life measured in weeks, rather than hours. I do miss the feel and smell of books but I have one of the Kindle lighted covers, which has a great leather smell. I've downloaded loads of classics via the Gutenberg project. I also use Calibre software to download and read newspapers. I did have a cover without a light, but this started interfering with the Kindle by losing my place in what I was reading. Amazon's response to this typifies their excellent customer service - they replaced the cover with a lighted version at no extra cost
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