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First things first – happy birthday to Our Vicar, and get well soon – he’s currently struck down with flu.

Second things second – a while ago I asked on Facebook for non-blogging friends to send me a paragraph or two about what they were reading. And then, of course, promptly forgot about it, which was very silly of me because I had some really great messages.

So, over to them! I simply asked ‘What are you reading? Tell me about it…’

The Golden Gate by Vikram Seth
Debs Smithies

Bought on impulse because it looked so beautiful on the Waterstone’s shelf – one of those Faber poetry paperbacks in gorgeous sunny yellow. And it was intriguing. A whole novel in verse? Poetry not usually my bag, I’m not nearly clever enough. But this I LOVE. It totally works. You almost forget it’s in verse, the metre just carries you along, and the story and the characters – totally absorbing. I’m 50 pages from the end and cross that I have to work instead of reading it! Can’t recommend highly enough.

Anne of Avonlea by L M Montgomery
Meg Zeyfert

I’m a complete children’s fiction junkie and I loved Anne of Green Gables. I’m not particularly enjoying this book though, the original Anne book is so fresh and vibrant, fast paced and joyful and this sequel just seems to be plodding along trying to emulate that feel. I don’t really care what happens next, but I won’t walk away as, a bit like Anne herself, I’m always hopeful things will improve. I’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t get anywhere as I got this in a charity shop bundle with three further sequels and I was hoping they would cover my fiction reading for the next month or so. All the same, I have a terrible feeling that this is going to be a case like Little Women where the author should really have been content with one gem of a novel.

Snark by David Denby
Pippa Warr

Denby defines ‘snark’ as personal, low, teasing, rug-pulling, finger-pointing, snide, obvious and knowing abuse. I picked it up out of curiosity as snark is something I often encounter online and something which I try to avoid contributing to or indulging in too heavily – one of the reasons I used to give up celebrity gossip for Lent.

So far I’ve found it engaging and interesting but I’m not sure how much of that is because I share a lot of Denby’s concerns. I also have a sneaking suspicion that part of the appeal is because it allows the author to reproduce (and me to re-read) particularly snarky examples under the guise of criticism.

The strength of the book lies in making explicit some of the little implicit digs – the whispered racism and covert misogyny. It encourages the reader to think about what they are reading or writing and – perhaps – to strive for something better.

I should admit from the outset – I’ve wholesale stolen this idea from The Dabbler, where they occasionally feature reviews of books which are available from a penny (plus postage) on Amazon. I thought I’d collect a whole bunch of ideas for 1p shopping – more affordable to indulge in for yourself whilst doing your Christmas shopping, perhaps?

To offset this, since I know some people aren’t absolutely certain about Amazon, I’ll also mention something which was emailed to me today – Better World Books, which has opened a UK site for selling books, and contributes money to literacy initiatives.

And if you’re concerned about authors getting the money themselves, feel free to use these suggestions to buy new copies of the books.

Caveats over; back to 1p books… I’m afraid this is only for the UK Amazon site. They might be cheap in dollars or euros or… no, these are the only currencies I can think of. Pesatas don’t exist any more, do they? OH! Swiss Francs! Now I’m out.

I’m not going to litter the post with links, so I’ll just say that full reviews of these books are mostly available, just click on the relevant author on the drop-down menu over to the

Just thought I’d keep you in the picture – yesterday I went off to the hospital to find out what was wrong, and it’s a torn stomach muscle. So, definitely not serious – but it was very painful! They gave me strong painkillers, and Mum (who’d very kindly driven up from Somerset when I cried down the phone, when the pain was at its worst) and Dad offered me a week’s rest down in Somerset. I decided it would be nicer to rest there, scooped up all my notes and laptop etc. so I can do some work, and came home. The bonus being that Sherpa is here to ‘look after me’ (for which read, sit on my feet for a bit; run up to the windowsill; then the other windowsill; crawl under the bookcase; hide under the duvet; attack my leg; fall off the bed… and repeat from the beginning.)

So, the books I wanted to review or post about (I’ve finished Project 24 and haven’t even told you the last three!) will have to wait until I’m back in Oxford. For now, here is lovely Sherpa…

As you may have seen, my novella reading weekend rather fell flat on its face. Only two finished, mostly because of feeling unwell and being in quite a lot of pain. Doh. So, still a pile of eleven others that I had to neglect – I’ll do another novella reading weekend sometime in the New Year, and hope for better luck then. As for tomorrow, I’ll be off to the doctor!

I started well… but then I had lunch, fell asleep… and was feeling so lousy that I needed to talk to Mum and Dad to make myself feel better. Parents are good for that, aren’t they?

So, it’s taken me quite a while, but now we’re two books down – with Tepper Isn’t Going Out by Calvin Trillin finished. It’s not really a novella, but it is a thin book… oh, and I also got about 30pp. into another book and stopped – I haven’t decided yet whether or not to finish it…

One down, in the form of Love on the Supertax by Marghanita Laski – which was a gift (or was it a loan?!) from Hayley aka Desperate Reader.

Reviews to follow…

Well, my weekend of novella (and ‘novella’, and just plain ‘shortish novel’) reading is just about to start. I’m afraid *another* nasty cold has hit me, so we’ll see how long my eyes hold up for, but my plan is to write a quick post after each book I finish – or perhaps somewhere in between, if it’s all going slowly.

Do comment if you’re novella-reading today, and pop any links to relevant posts in the comments.

I have clearly gone up in the world, for I am now a recipient of advance notice for the Wikio literary blog monthly listings! Here’s their latest findings, thanks Wikio – lovely to see some familiar faces as usual.

Ranking made by Wikio

I saw a brilliant film tonight, more on’t tomorrow – but for tonight, before I hit the hay, I will share another bit of my research from today. You may question quite what I’m researching, but here is a fun poem, anonymous, from Punch, March 1920 :

[A reviewer in a recent issue of The Times Literary Supplement asks, “Why should the characters in the psychological novel be invariably horrid?” and is inclined to explain this state of affairs by the undiscriminating study of “the theories of two very estimable gentlemen, the sound of whose names one is beginning to dislike – Messrs. Freud and Jung.”] – [this is from the article too]

In QUEEN VICTORIA’S placid reign, the novelists of note
In one respect, at any rate, were all in the same boat;
Alike in Richard Feverel and in Aurora Floyd
You’ll seek in vain for any trace of Messrs. JUNG and FREUD.

They did not fail in colour, for they had their PEACOCK’S tails:
Their heroines, I must admit, ran seldom off the rails;
They had their apes and angels, but they never once employed
The psycho-analytic rules devised by JUNG and FREUD.

They ran a tilt at fraud and guilt, at snobbery and shams;
They had no lack of Meredithyrambic epigrams;
The types that most appealed to them were not neurasthenoid.
They lived, you see, before the day of Messrs. JUNG and FREUD.

(I’ve searched the last edition of the famous Ency. Brit.
And neither of this noble pair is even named in it;
Only the men since Nineteen-Ten have properly enjoyed
The privilege of studying the works of JUNG and FREUD.)

Their characters, I grieve to say, were never more unclean
Than those of ordinary life, in morals or in mien;
They had not slummed or fully plumbed with rapture unalloyed
The unconscious mind as now defined by Messrs. JUNG and FREUD.

The spiritual shell-shock which these scientists impart
Had not enlarged or cleared the dim horizons of their art;
They had not learned that mutual love by wedlock is destroyed,
As proved by the disciples of the school of JUNG and FREUD.

The hierophants of pure romance, ev’n in its recent mood,
From STEVENSON to CONRAD, such excesses have eschewed;
But the psycho-pathologic route was neither mapped nor buoyed
Until the new discoveries of Messrs. JUNG and FREUD.

That fiction should be tonic all may readily agree;
That its function is emetic I, for one, could never see;
And so I’m glad to find The Times Lit. Supp. has grown annoyed
At the undiscriminating cult of Messrs. JUNG and FREUD.

Let earnest ‘educationists’ assiduously preach
The value of psychology in training those who teach;
Let publicists who speak of Mr. GEORGE , without the LLOYD,
Confound him with quotations from the works of JUNG and FREUD –

But I, were I a despot, quite benevolent, of course,
Armed with the last developments of high explosive force,
I’d build a bigger “Bertha,” and discharge it in the void
Crammed with the novelists who brood on Messrs. JUNG and FREUD.