The Crowded Bed

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As promised, a review of Mary Cavanagh’s The Crowded Bed today. For those keeping tabs, Blogger appears to have once more changed the format for posting, so we’ll see how this goes…

“Good evening, dear friend. I’m extremely pleased to see you, but I’m sure you’ll understand why I can’t give you my full attention. Joe Fortune is just about to kill his father-in-law, and I’ve no intention of missing this long awaited event.”

So opens The Crowded Bed…

Gosh. From the first sentence I sensed this wouldn’t be an uneventful novel – and, genre-wise, it’s a canny decision by Cavanagh. If it hadn’t been arranged thus, we’d have had a Hamlet-esque tussel over whether or not Joe wanted to kill his father-in-law – and let’s face it, who hasn’t watched Hamlet and thought “to be or not to be, don’t care, just get on with it!”

I digress. The Crowded Bed follows Joe, a Jewish boy and later doctor, from childhood through various relationships and to just after the pivotal moment described. Like many recent novels I’ve read, the narrative jumps about a bit, so ‘the present’ is shown parallel to various sections of the past – though, like those novels too, it’s not confusing. I found Joe a fairly repugnant character, but I think that’s ok – he has manifold sins under his belt, and more or less his only redeeming trait is a deep love for his son. And an abiding love for Anna.

She’s the other lass. Liked her. Despite her name, she’s not Jewish – she’s more like Botticelli’s Venus, as shown on the cover. My favourite sections of this novel were the opening chapters, when the childhoods of Joe and Anna were depicted alongside each other, and thus contrasted. Where Joe has indulgent and proud parents, Anna had a vicious father and a passive mother. And a twin brother, a theme popping up in quite a few recent reads. Reading their childhoods in this comparative way is so revealing about the characters and the way they interrelate.

The path isn’t smooth for Joe and Anna. That crowded bed gets pretty crowded as the novel progresses, and I’ll keep schtum over whether or not they manage to kick everyone else out but, suffice to say, the shocks keep coming to the very end. Cavanagh has written a novel which is both gentle and vicious, warm and unsettling. It’s hard to like many of the characters, but that doesn’t stop being compelled to find out more – and the rollercoaster they go through is dramatic but believable. Certainly not comfort reading (though someone recently described The Kite Runner as that, so it takes all sorts) but is a very engaging and perpetually surprising novel. Oh, and it features Oxford, which is always exciting!

Booking Through Thursday – Reviews

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There’s been something of a change in the Blogger-post-writing malarkey, which probably doesn’t make any difference for reading the blog, but is rather exciting and confusing. If anything goes wrong – not just in the blog, but in the world – let’s pretend it’s the new format’s fault. I love blaming technology for things – think of all that it (probably) perpetrates without us noticing, it’s only fair to redress the balance.

You’ll be impressed to note that I’m doing Booking Through Thursday on a Thursday, if only just. I had intended to write a review of Mary Cavanagh’s The Crowded Bed, but you’ll have to wait for tomorrow now. Suffice to say, it’ll be quite positive.

And that brings me neatly to this week’s BTT:

How much do reviews (good and bad) affect your choice of reading? If you see a bad review of a book you wanted to read, do you still read it? If you see a good review of a book you’re sure you won’t like, do you change your mind and give the book a try?

I’m going to take it as read that we’re talking about Blog Reviews, since I don’t read any others. Without wishing to open the can of worms that is the blogger vs. literary critic debate, on a personal level I get very little from newspaper reviews. More specifically, The Times, since it is the only newspaper I have occasional access to, being the one my family reads. (I don’t read the newspaper myself – takes up too much other reading time, and the experience is inherently transitory, I reckon.) The reviews printed in The Times are always too long, too unconnected with the book, and too highbrow for me. They muse around topics vaguely in the same area as the book, present their own opinion as though it were fact, and end up telling me almost nothing about whether or not I’d want to read the book – unless, of course, they just give the end away. And as for the books they review… worthy biographies are not my staple. Plus, quite naturally, they review only recently published books.

The blog acts as an opposite to almost all these points. I’m not arguing that they are more intellectually qualified etc. etc., but rather they serve the purpose I have in mind. Will I like this book? Will I value reading it? There are certain bloggers I trust as having similar opinions to me – Elaine, Karen, Lisa, Danielle and Margaret are all likely to influence whether or not I buy a book. To be honest, though, if a book immediately doesn’t appeal, even the most glowing appeal will leave me cold. If a close e-friend adores it, but it still doesn’t appeal, I’ll probably dither and buy it if ever seen in a charity shop, and read it four years later. I might read around thirty blog book reviews a week, most of them positive (because we tend not to comment if we’ve not enjoyed a book) and I can’t read the lot.

Oh, and blogging has the immense advantage that reviews talk about books from the last three hundred years, not the last three weeks. Anything could come up.

So what does a blog review do in terms of convincing me to read a book?
catapaults ones I already own up the tbr pileconvinces me to buy ones which sort of appeal alreadyputs books in my mind… if I hear about them another two or three times, I’m done for…

Unusual Book

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This book arrived this morning…


In the middle of all other sorts of books, so shall have all sorts of new comments in a flurry at some point. To link to yesterday, one is a re-read, one is a new read by an ‘old’ author, and one is a new read by a ‘new’ author! And, what is more, I’m enjoying the lot of ’em.

New Authors For Old

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Getting late, so quick post today.

Something I forgot to add in my little meme about 2007’s reads – old and new authors. I mentioned that six of the books were re-reads, but haven’t brought up the issue of whether authors are first-time-reads or not.

So I had a look at last year. 53 of them were books by authors I hadn’t read before. Hmm. Quite a few of those were for review but, still, quite interesting. And does leave over 30 which were by familiar authors.

Both have advantages – a familiar author is a known entity. They can surprise, sure, but you more or less know what you’re getting. Perhaps they exceed expectation – like Vita Sackville-West’s All Passion Spent – or perhaps they disappoint a little – like Frank Baker’s Before I Go Hence. The fact remains that an expectation of some variety or other is there, and you can’t help comparing. On the other hand, a new author (new to you, that is) has untold possibility… or lack thereof.

A very short post today, I’m afraid, but something to get you thinking – which do you look forward to more? An author you know you’ll like, or a new author you might well love? Anticipation or safety??

May I Introduce…?

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I’m doing this week’s Booking Through Thursday rather late. Well, you could probably work that out from the day… Never mind, eh, let’s just pretend I spent the past few days pondering the question.

How did you come across your favorite author(s)? Recommended by a friend? Stumbled across at a bookstore? A book given to you as a gift?Was it love at first sight? Or did the love affair evolve over a long acquaintance?
Well, as Margaret points out, this question involves the very tricky decision as to favourite authors. Since I shan’t be compiling a proper list today, I’ll just mention the ones which are undoutedly favourites, and any others which come into my head.

-Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker – this is the one I yammer on and on about! See the 50 Books… Well, this was loaned to me by my piano teacher, after a chance conversation.

-The Diary of a Provincial Lady by EM Delafield – Though this is quite well known in the world of middlebrow interwar fiction, and still in print, I came at it in rather a roundabout way. Bought 1940’s Modern Humour because it had a sketch by AA Milne in it – read the others, and read two by EM Delafield. Those exact two should be available through a link on the excellent EMD website www.starcourse.org/emd but that address isn’t currently working on my computer… Anyway, loved these sketches (actually from As Others Hear Us) and sought out other EMD things from our local library – step forward Provincial Lady.

-the non-Pooh works of AA Milne – saw a Winnie-the-Pooh cartoon early in 2001, and re-read the books. Then sought out Christopher Milne’s The Enchanted Places, then AA Milne’s Year In, Year Out, then his autobiog, then everything else…

–Persephone Books – found a Richmal Crompton novel in a local bookshop and, having loved William, thought I’d give it a go. Loved it, and read many. Later saw a newish looking copy of Family Roundabout at the library, which led me to Persephone…

-Sometimes I just pick up a book more or less at random, and love it. Examples include The L-Shaped Room by Lynne Reid Banks; The Love Child by Edith Oliver…

-Most books I read are through some sort of connection. A LOT are recommends from dovegreybooks Yahoo Group (responsible for my penury). Some are recommended by parents or friends – though I haven’t had a recommendation from Mum for a while. If you’re reading this, Our Vicar’s Wife, recommend me something!

And for 2) – yes, they were all favourites after the first read! I’m afraid I rarely re-read, and certainly not something I didn’t enjoy much the first time.

Before I go, Nancy asked about the film Amazing Grace – I’ll quote The Carbon Copy’s blog from March 07, when he saw it: “I went to see Amazing Grace last night, the new film based on the life of William Wilberforce (and there’s no real excuse if you don’t know who he is) and I was pretty impressed; not sure how close to the truth it was, but I enjoyed it – and was moved by it. Nice to see a strong(ish) Christian message coming through, and the idea that Wilberforce needed the love of a good woman before he could help abolish slavery is one that I like, even if it’s almost certainly untrue. A worthwhile film.”

Billybob

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You’ll be delighted to know that my failsafe computer tactic – ignore the problem and it will go away – has once more worked its magic. My ‘b’ key, though needing a tiny bit more persuasion than the others, is almost as good as new. All through the magic of ignoring the issue. Trust me, if restarting the computer doesn’t fix the issue, then try ignoring it. Like all other dangerous animals, it secretly craves attention, and will right itself if is starved of it.
So why is this particularly pertinent today? Well, I realised I hadn’t blogged properly about Shakespeare by Bill Bryson. That’s a lot of ‘b’s, especially when you remember that William is known fondly as Billybob by myself and others who took the Shakespeare paper alongside me in finals.

The Carbon Copy bought me Shakespeare for my birthday, along with the wonderful and moving film Amazing Grace and, possibly my favourite, a little picture of Eeyore receiving his birthday balloon. My previous experience with Bill Bryson is positive – loved Mother Tongue, which I read about five years ago. Fascinating stuff on the evolution of the English language, and incredibly readable.

‘Readable’ always sounds a bit like damning with faint praise – cereal packets deserve the same honour – but it really isn’t. Take it from one who had to read a lot of literary criticism, readability (is that a word?) is a must. Shakespeare follows suit – Bryson has obviously done a great deal of arduous and scholarly research, and the resulting book manages to be both deeply informative and incredibly amusing. Tricky combination.

So why do we need another book about Shakespeare? Bryson is honest enough to tell us how many thousands are on offer. Can’t remember the exact amount, but enough to make sure I could comfortably be reading a book about Shakespare every week for the rest of my life – not mentioning the rate at which they’re still being published. What sets this book apart is that Bryson’s character and authorship is expressed through style and wit, not groundless speculation or wide context. Shakespeare is only about 200 pages long, but it is an essential and reliable tome. Everything we know about Shakespeare is in here. A few theories and possibilities are mentioned, but they are shown to be just that, and not argued as certain. The funniest chapter is the final one, on Anti-Stratford theorists i.e. those who, for some reason or other, refuse to believe Billybob wrote his plays. Littered with such scathing lines as “an excellent theory, if it weren’t for the complete lack of evidence to support it,” and “X demonstrated amazing foresight in, seeing as he died before many of Shakespeare’s plays were written, secreting enough manuscripts that they could be gradually released, and correctly estimating the time period between his own and Shakespeare’s death”. I paraphrase, but you get the gist – very funny.

For the rest of the book – the first chapters sketch out Shakespeare’s life; where he was, different instances at which he is mention in some document or other. A nice touch is that Bryson often details the person who discovered a new fact about Billybob, often through laborious and painstaking reading of many manuscripts and documents. Credit where due, is Bryson’s motto. Subsequent chapters talk about the plays and the sonnets – not lit crit, but where they were performed or when they were first published. All very interesting, and if it sounds dry (and to me it doesn’t!) then Bryson’s wit and charm will fascinate you.

There have been thousands of books written about Billybob, and I daresay there will be thousands more, but for the facts in an engaging and funny way, this can’t be bettered.

Free the Rice!

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Sorry, been feeling sleepy of late. Clearly the lengthy time-off I took has left me unprepared for the world of work – or, more specifically, the early wake-up time. I consider myself quite a morning person, but there are limits. Once I have a cup of tea inside me, though, I’m bright n’ breezy.

Thought I’d share a couple of things today, in lieu of anything particularly bookish to report (though am immersed in The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters and may not emerge for some time)

1) Handed in my Masters Application for English Literature 1900-Present! Yes, back here I annouced my intentions (sounds like I’m an Austen hero requesting a lady’s hand in marriage) and, but a short 2.5 months later, I handed the forms in. Nine days before the deadline, mind, which in my book is organised. Should find out whether or not I’ve got a place in about two month’s time.

2) www.freerice.com
Not in the sense of freeing injustly imprisoned rice (though that is also a worthy cause) or even the United States Secretary of State. This website, which can speedily become addictive, combines both a love of language and charitable giving. It’s basically a game of synonyms – a word is given, you choose between four possible definitions/synonyms/vaguely-related-words-sometimes – every time you click, the companies which advertise on the site will give rice to United Nations World Food Programme. I don’t know the ins and outs of this organisation, but it certainly seems more + than – . And the worst that can happen is that I procrastinate for a few minutes.
Go try. The words get harder as you get more correct (and easier if you get them wrong) with a running ‘vocab level’. This goes up to 50, but I haven’t got higher than 45… very addictive game. But with the added bonus of absolutely no guilt.

What’s Simon Booked?

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I’ve booked some of these lessons:


What do you reckon it is? No, not golf.

Driving.

Ha ha ha. Ha. Ha…
(I warn you – my knowledge of golf begins and ends with that pun).

Watch out motorists and pedestrians of Britain, I am going to try to learn to drive. Eek. Quite, quite terrified, truth be told, and also rather poorer fiscally. I’m doing it a bit late (nice to know I can be old for certain things) mostly because I was too scared to try before, but I’ve realised that my dream of a rural idyll would be rather compromised by not being able to get to and from it. So, shall spend three weeks at a ‘simulation centre’, whatever that is (six hours in these three weeks, you understand, not the whole lot) and then hit the road… agh!

P.s. stories of how you and all around you nearly died whilst learning to drive not particularly welcome right now…

The Kite Runner – and a pondering…

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I read The Kite Runner for Book Group last week, and after a few people raved about it, I was expecting something brilliant. Well, I quite liked it – there we go, nothing if not effusive! The first 100 pages or so were great – a very vivid and complex portrait of an unequal fraternal relationship. Fascinating glimpse at issues of servitude, power, jealousy, love and a very believable pair of main characters. For those not in the know, Hassan is the son of Amir’s father’s Hazara servant – so the boys are the same age, and very close, but in very different circumstances. Perhaps their relationship is best shown in the sport which gives the novel its title – Amir flies his kite in an important local competition; Hassan is one of those who run after the cut-down kites, to keep as prizes. Hassan runs after them in order that he can give the kite to Amir – and his loyalty is such that he will endure much rather than relinquish the kite.

There is an event about 100 pages in which changes the lives of the central characters, the nature of the relationship, and the rest of the novel. To be fair to Khaled Hosseini (the author) the event doesn’t feel signposted in any way. I’m always annoyed by pages which scream “Look! Most Important Event Happening Here! Get Ready For Everything To Change!” But after it happens, the main force of the novel is lost. I waded through the remaining 200 or so pages with some interest, but The Kite Runner had rather, ahem, run out of steam.

And it got me thinking. Much of the reason I didn’t enjoy the second half of the book, aside from its having lost momentum, was the violence and gore it involved. Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t a slasher-horror or anything, it was just rather too much for a reader with as squeamish an imagination as mine. I think that political situations are best told through character, rather than graphic description. It’s easy to write something fairly disgusting (it’s farcically easy to write something which will make me feel ill) but difficult to write in such a way as creates true empathy.

So what was my pondering – it was about novels being challenging. Challenging mindsets and emotions rather than using long words, of course. I’ve always just assumed that they should (sometimes) be challenging – and in some areas I still do. I love it when novels change the way I think, especially the way I think about people, but I will no longer feel guilty for squeamishness. I always thought the fault was with me, being put off by novels too ‘challenging’, whilst now I think they’re just difficult to read without feeling ill.

Hmm. I’m still not entirely sure, though.

Eeeeeee!

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It’s fair to say that I’m pretty excited.

If this were the only thing to come from my blog, then it would all be worth it. Not that blogging is a chore. But I can’t ask for much more than came through my letterbox – the paperback version of Angela Young’s wonderful Speaking of Love. It was one of my favourite reads of last year, and the original review can be found here. Do go and see what I thought.

Angela read my review and wrote about it on her blog, and obviously her publishers – the aptly named Beautiful Books – also got to hear about. Then a while later I got an email asking if I would mind them citing me on the back of the paperback – did I mind! You can guess that, not only did I not mind, but I was deliriously happy. This is still Angela’s wonderful, sensitive, emotive, beautiful book – but I like to think I share a tiny, tiny fraction of the cover, at least. Here I am:


So now you have two reasons to buy it. Not yet, though – wait until March. I’ll let you know when, of course.

And for those counting, this doesn’t contravene my self-imposed restriction on book buying during January, since this was a gift. Canny, no?