I've only read three books since I last posted on here (I think - I feel there's another but I can't for the life of me remember it...), but as they're hardly ground-breakers, I've not felt compelled to blog about them.
Not ground-breakers, but thoroughly enjoyable all the same.
Anybody who has read an MC Beaton book will know what to expect from Agatha Raisin, and The Vicious Vet doesn't fail to deliver. Similarly with Simon Brett's The Fethering Mysteries. Body on the Beach, the second book featuring next door neighbours Carole and Jude, is Fethering by numbers. Having said that, I think I prefer Brett's take on cozy crime to Beaton's. Brett just seems to capture that quintessential Enlishness that Beaton lacks due to such a cynical and "London" protagonist... (although maybe this alters as the books go on, and Agatha spends longer in her Cotswolds village - Vicious Vet is only book two after all).
Perhaps slightly more (okay, no perhaps about it, totally more) ground-breaking is E.T.A Hoffman's Maidemoiselle de Scudery which, come to think of it, deserves its own entry......
Friday, 5 September 2014
Monday, 4 August 2014
I'm writing this on my phone en route to my holiday so apologies for brevity (I love how I write this as though there are people reading....)
John Boyne's This House is Haunted is a quick and easy read. This really should have been one of the novels I blogged about whilst halfway through, giving my theories on what was going to happen, as I was almost bang on. But then, I guess that's the point. It's a predictable Victorian style ghost story. Not nearly as creepy as MR James or even Dickens, but a reliable chugging along haunted house story. Frustrations are born from the fact that the heroine (21 year old Eliza Caine) is always about a chapter behind the reader - like who the malevolent ghost is, who her spectral protector is... Really?! and there's the usual urge to slap the reticent villagers around the face and tell them to stop being so sodding Victorian, but then they are Victorian I suppose.
Once again, there is the annoyance that nobody seems to get a happy ending in any of the books I read any more, but again, this being a ghost story homage (for can it be a ghost story in its own right if Boyne has simply made a list of what happens in all great ghost stories and then ticked off the situations and plot points one by one?) you must expect it's going to end like all good ghost stories - in that the protagonist can never truly escape.
In summary, entertaining in parts, frustrating in more, over the top and open ended. It would make a great YA book or film but not creepy or unsettling enough for true greatness.
The best part is where you get that "hurr hurrr" moment of satisfaction where the book titled is mentioned in a conversation between two characters. Hurr hurrrr...
As it's holiday time I'm not after anything too taxing for the next few books (although there are a few older detective fiction ones in my case that have pretty small writing and archaic words) so I'm going for good old MC Beaton's second in the Agatha Raisin series - The Vicious Vet.
John Boyne's This House is Haunted is a quick and easy read. This really should have been one of the novels I blogged about whilst halfway through, giving my theories on what was going to happen, as I was almost bang on. But then, I guess that's the point. It's a predictable Victorian style ghost story. Not nearly as creepy as MR James or even Dickens, but a reliable chugging along haunted house story. Frustrations are born from the fact that the heroine (21 year old Eliza Caine) is always about a chapter behind the reader - like who the malevolent ghost is, who her spectral protector is... Really?! and there's the usual urge to slap the reticent villagers around the face and tell them to stop being so sodding Victorian, but then they are Victorian I suppose.
Once again, there is the annoyance that nobody seems to get a happy ending in any of the books I read any more, but again, this being a ghost story homage (for can it be a ghost story in its own right if Boyne has simply made a list of what happens in all great ghost stories and then ticked off the situations and plot points one by one?) you must expect it's going to end like all good ghost stories - in that the protagonist can never truly escape.
In summary, entertaining in parts, frustrating in more, over the top and open ended. It would make a great YA book or film but not creepy or unsettling enough for true greatness.
The best part is where you get that "hurr hurrr" moment of satisfaction where the book titled is mentioned in a conversation between two characters. Hurr hurrrr...
As it's holiday time I'm not after anything too taxing for the next few books (although there are a few older detective fiction ones in my case that have pretty small writing and archaic words) so I'm going for good old MC Beaton's second in the Agatha Raisin series - The Vicious Vet.
Tuesday, 29 July 2014
This House is Haunted - John Boyne
I guess ghost stories aren't the most Summery of reading, but this was one of the last books I bought before I decided not to buy any more books for a while, and I do love a good spooky read. I haven't read a modern ghost story in years - I'm normally more of an M.R. James fan - but I do have Michelle Paver and Kate Mosse waiting for me, so maybe I need to get in the mood.
The blurb reads:
1867. On a dark and chilling night Eliza Caine arrives in Norfolk to take up her position as governess at Gaudlin Hall. As she makes her way across the station platform, a pair of invisible hands push her from behind into the path of an approaching train. She is only saved by the vigilance of a passing doctor.
It is the start of a journey into a world of abandoned children, unexplained occurrences and terrifying experiences which Eliza will have to overcome if she is to survive the secrets that lie within Gaudlin's walls..."
*makes Twilight Zone noises*
The blurb reads:
1867. On a dark and chilling night Eliza Caine arrives in Norfolk to take up her position as governess at Gaudlin Hall. As she makes her way across the station platform, a pair of invisible hands push her from behind into the path of an approaching train. She is only saved by the vigilance of a passing doctor.
It is the start of a journey into a world of abandoned children, unexplained occurrences and terrifying experiences which Eliza will have to overcome if she is to survive the secrets that lie within Gaudlin's walls..."
*makes Twilight Zone noises*
..Feeling Old and Dirty and Incapable. You Probably Know the Feeling if You are Over Eighteen.
I have finally finished "Don't Point That Thing at Me." and not in a "FINALLY!" way, but just in a "Well, that took me longer than it should." way.
I actually really liked it come the end - I think once I stopped trying to work out what the actual *plot* was, it was just a great read. It's like a Quentin Tarantino film or something. Lots of things actually happen, but when you have to say what the start/middle/end is, you have to really think.
There doesn't seem to be a catalyst for events, in fact we come in half way through whatever has happened; Charlie doesn't seem to go on any personal journey, although he is a lot less wisecracking come the end, but I think that's as he feels he is facing his demise; and the book ends on a kind of muted cliff hanger. However, that is because the Mortdecai books aren't technically a trilogy, they're more one book divided into three. The second book, After You With the Pistol carries on literally from the next sentence to where Don't Point That Thing at Me finishes.
If you like fast paced, fast talking, rather violent antiheroes then it's the book for you. I'm surprised Tarantino isn't actually doing the movie adaptation...
I actually really liked it come the end - I think once I stopped trying to work out what the actual *plot* was, it was just a great read. It's like a Quentin Tarantino film or something. Lots of things actually happen, but when you have to say what the start/middle/end is, you have to really think.
There doesn't seem to be a catalyst for events, in fact we come in half way through whatever has happened; Charlie doesn't seem to go on any personal journey, although he is a lot less wisecracking come the end, but I think that's as he feels he is facing his demise; and the book ends on a kind of muted cliff hanger. However, that is because the Mortdecai books aren't technically a trilogy, they're more one book divided into three. The second book, After You With the Pistol carries on literally from the next sentence to where Don't Point That Thing at Me finishes.
If you like fast paced, fast talking, rather violent antiheroes then it's the book for you. I'm surprised Tarantino isn't actually doing the movie adaptation...
Thursday, 17 July 2014
A nice, rich, cowardly fun-loving art dealer who dabbles in crime to take his mind off his haemorrhoids...
Mortdecai is taking me a long time.
There's no reason for this other than I've been suffering from reduced concentration skills recently, and not reading as much as I have been known to. I tend to play Marple on my phone instead of read at the moment. Seriously though, Marple is great. Check it out.
Don't Point That Thing At Me seems to be one of those books that you read much better if you stop thinking about it and just read it. I have no idea what's going on. I know Charlie wants a diplomatic immunity pass to go to the USA and I know it's for nefarious purposes, but I have no idea what they are or why he wants to go to the USA. I'm sure I've read these reasons but either I've forgotten or I didn't understand them in the first place.
However, it's funny. Mortdecai is an incorrigible debauched drunkard. I chuckle out loud a couple of times each chapter, and the language is lovely if almost entirely obsolete now. His use of the word "zizz" for a nap immediately transported back to my childhood as it's a word my Mum would use a lot. I had no idea that's how it would be spelled though. So I've learned something from the Right Honorable Charlie Mortdecai.
I'm wondering if this is one book I should have read AFTER the film came out. Maybe the film would cover the plot and then I could just concentrate on the words. I'm considering putting it on hold until then, but I'm already a third of the way in and I do enjoy that smugness of saying "That's not what happened in the book", although in this case I obviously have no bloody idea what's happening in the book.
Paul Bettany as Jock though? Hmmm. He's supposed to be built like a brick shithouse and has just chased an intruder around the house whilst stark naked. It'll be interesting to see if he carries it off...
Jonny Depp and Paul Bettany as Charlie and Jock
There's no reason for this other than I've been suffering from reduced concentration skills recently, and not reading as much as I have been known to. I tend to play Marple on my phone instead of read at the moment. Seriously though, Marple is great. Check it out.
Don't Point That Thing At Me seems to be one of those books that you read much better if you stop thinking about it and just read it. I have no idea what's going on. I know Charlie wants a diplomatic immunity pass to go to the USA and I know it's for nefarious purposes, but I have no idea what they are or why he wants to go to the USA. I'm sure I've read these reasons but either I've forgotten or I didn't understand them in the first place.
However, it's funny. Mortdecai is an incorrigible debauched drunkard. I chuckle out loud a couple of times each chapter, and the language is lovely if almost entirely obsolete now. His use of the word "zizz" for a nap immediately transported back to my childhood as it's a word my Mum would use a lot. I had no idea that's how it would be spelled though. So I've learned something from the Right Honorable Charlie Mortdecai.
I'm wondering if this is one book I should have read AFTER the film came out. Maybe the film would cover the plot and then I could just concentrate on the words. I'm considering putting it on hold until then, but I'm already a third of the way in and I do enjoy that smugness of saying "That's not what happened in the book", although in this case I obviously have no bloody idea what's happening in the book.
Paul Bettany as Jock though? Hmmm. He's supposed to be built like a brick shithouse and has just chased an intruder around the house whilst stark naked. It'll be interesting to see if he carries it off...
Jonny Depp and Paul Bettany as Charlie and Jock
Okay, maybe he can.
Sunday, 6 July 2014
Don't Point That Thing at Me - Kyril Bonfiglioli
Don't Point That Thing At Me, After You With The Pistol and Something Nasty in the Woodshed have all recently been re-released by Penguin with gorgeous new covers, just in time for the David Koepp directed Mortdecai movie starring Johnny Depp. For a long time prior to this, they were only available as a collected trilogy - the edition I am reading.
Now, tackling even just one book of a collected trilogy makes me feel nervous and inadequate. Even though I know I'm only reading essentially one third of the book on this occasion, it's still a fair tome with teeny tiny writing. Eeep! It's under 170 pages though so with a bit of will power I should manage it.
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Three chapters in, and the prose is very very flowery, yet with a uneasy amount of violence loitering in the background. A back cover quote from the Sunday Telegraph (and indeed a front cover quote from the New Yorker on the latter editions) compares Charlie Mortdecai and his manservant Jock to Jeeves and Wooster, and there is a kind of faded gentry feeling to the pair, but I'm pretty sure Wooster never underwent arse torture in the opening chapters of a book.
The dialogue is often so snappy and Mortdecai unlike any character you've met before, save for maybe Withnail, it can sometimes read like a foreign language. Parts of the book feel like A Clockwork Orange, in that if you keep reading, your brain pieces together the conversation and you get the gist of what is being said, but if you actually think about it as you read, you understand maybe 40% of the words.
Having said that, it's dastardly and impish, and great fun. I just have to stop my brow from furrowing as I read. Premature wrinkles!
Read more about Charlie and Bonfiglioli in this Guardian article
Now, tackling even just one book of a collected trilogy makes me feel nervous and inadequate. Even though I know I'm only reading essentially one third of the book on this occasion, it's still a fair tome with teeny tiny writing. Eeep! It's under 170 pages though so with a bit of will power I should manage it.
Three chapters in, and the prose is very very flowery, yet with a uneasy amount of violence loitering in the background. A back cover quote from the Sunday Telegraph (and indeed a front cover quote from the New Yorker on the latter editions) compares Charlie Mortdecai and his manservant Jock to Jeeves and Wooster, and there is a kind of faded gentry feeling to the pair, but I'm pretty sure Wooster never underwent arse torture in the opening chapters of a book.
The dialogue is often so snappy and Mortdecai unlike any character you've met before, save for maybe Withnail, it can sometimes read like a foreign language. Parts of the book feel like A Clockwork Orange, in that if you keep reading, your brain pieces together the conversation and you get the gist of what is being said, but if you actually think about it as you read, you understand maybe 40% of the words.
Having said that, it's dastardly and impish, and great fun. I just have to stop my brow from furrowing as I read. Premature wrinkles!
Read more about Charlie and Bonfiglioli in this Guardian article
Saturday, 28 June 2014
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry
Hmmmmm....
I don't know if I like the book. You can count the plot points on, like, one hand. Nothing happens. It may make you love mankind but it then succeeds in just making you hate them when greed and selfishness inevitably take over. But I suppose it's a book about failings - Harold's, Maureen's, the people Harold meets along his journey, and failings are hard to warm to. I suppose the point of the story is that it's never too late to admit to failings, to apologise and to rebuild bridges. Except it's too fucking late for David and Queenie isn't it?
I knew David had committed suicide. I thought it may have been an accidental overdose for a while, but the fact that he "wore a lot of black", had "long hair" and was "depressed" guided you to the actual conclusion. Because depressed people always wear a lot of black, have long hair and drinking problems in this kind of book. FFS.
It's wrong to get angry with fictional characters for reacting in ways that real people do, but then I'd get angry with the real people too, so why shouldn't I have the same ire for their fictional counterparts. Everything that happens in this fricking book could be solved or avoided if people just actually had conversations with each other once in a while instead of being so insecure or selfish that they think they're the only person with issues.
Depression is an illness. Maybe if Harold hadn't been so wrapped up in his apparent failings as a son, and Maureen hadn't been so blinded by the apparent perfection of her child, someone might have noticed that David needed help.
Every character, save for Queenie needs a shake and maybe a slap to wake them up. And that's the final punch in the gut. Queenie, the whole purpose for the novel, the goal, the impetus, becomes an afterthought. Another example of man's great failing. Harold reaches Queenie and is then so freaked out by her appearance (which is maybe because she's DYING OF CANCER YOU IDIOT), he feels she's not really there any more and he can't talk to her about all the things he's been thinking he wants to say to her. This kind woman, who brought him sweets and could sing songs backwards, who TOOK THE BLAME FOR HIS DRUNKEN DESTRUCTION, LOST HER JOB AND DISAPPEARED OUT OF HIS LIFE, is met with an "Oh god, doesn't she look terrible. It's so stuffy in here. I can't bear to be around her. I can't bring myself to say the things I wanted to say. It's not really her anymore."
If it's not really her anymore, how does she get a chapter (okay, it's four pages long, we don't want to dwell TOO much on our mortality do we? *rolls eyes*) to herself post visit where she is remembering her father as she dies? Grow some fucking balls Harold. Oh wait, it doesn't matter, you and Maureen are in love again. You got your happy ending. Screw Queenie.
You don't put your weaknesses before someone who is dying. You suck it up and you treat them like a human being until their is no human being left in their body. Queenie deserved an explanation. An apology. All she gets is a rucksack full of shit from souvenir shops.
Actually, in retrospect, it appears I didn't like this book. Harold was never redeemed, he remained selfish and stifled. Maureen was never redeemed, she just realised she still fancied her husband. Rex and Queenie were the only people who showed any humanity during the whole novel. The only thing this book tries to teach is not to take loved ones for granted, and I knew that well enough already thanks.
I don't know if I like the book. You can count the plot points on, like, one hand. Nothing happens. It may make you love mankind but it then succeeds in just making you hate them when greed and selfishness inevitably take over. But I suppose it's a book about failings - Harold's, Maureen's, the people Harold meets along his journey, and failings are hard to warm to. I suppose the point of the story is that it's never too late to admit to failings, to apologise and to rebuild bridges. Except it's too fucking late for David and Queenie isn't it?
I knew David had committed suicide. I thought it may have been an accidental overdose for a while, but the fact that he "wore a lot of black", had "long hair" and was "depressed" guided you to the actual conclusion. Because depressed people always wear a lot of black, have long hair and drinking problems in this kind of book. FFS.
It's wrong to get angry with fictional characters for reacting in ways that real people do, but then I'd get angry with the real people too, so why shouldn't I have the same ire for their fictional counterparts. Everything that happens in this fricking book could be solved or avoided if people just actually had conversations with each other once in a while instead of being so insecure or selfish that they think they're the only person with issues.
Depression is an illness. Maybe if Harold hadn't been so wrapped up in his apparent failings as a son, and Maureen hadn't been so blinded by the apparent perfection of her child, someone might have noticed that David needed help.
Every character, save for Queenie needs a shake and maybe a slap to wake them up. And that's the final punch in the gut. Queenie, the whole purpose for the novel, the goal, the impetus, becomes an afterthought. Another example of man's great failing. Harold reaches Queenie and is then so freaked out by her appearance (which is maybe because she's DYING OF CANCER YOU IDIOT), he feels she's not really there any more and he can't talk to her about all the things he's been thinking he wants to say to her. This kind woman, who brought him sweets and could sing songs backwards, who TOOK THE BLAME FOR HIS DRUNKEN DESTRUCTION, LOST HER JOB AND DISAPPEARED OUT OF HIS LIFE, is met with an "Oh god, doesn't she look terrible. It's so stuffy in here. I can't bear to be around her. I can't bring myself to say the things I wanted to say. It's not really her anymore."
If it's not really her anymore, how does she get a chapter (okay, it's four pages long, we don't want to dwell TOO much on our mortality do we? *rolls eyes*) to herself post visit where she is remembering her father as she dies? Grow some fucking balls Harold. Oh wait, it doesn't matter, you and Maureen are in love again. You got your happy ending. Screw Queenie.
You don't put your weaknesses before someone who is dying. You suck it up and you treat them like a human being until their is no human being left in their body. Queenie deserved an explanation. An apology. All she gets is a rucksack full of shit from souvenir shops.
Actually, in retrospect, it appears I didn't like this book. Harold was never redeemed, he remained selfish and stifled. Maureen was never redeemed, she just realised she still fancied her husband. Rex and Queenie were the only people who showed any humanity during the whole novel. The only thing this book tries to teach is not to take loved ones for granted, and I knew that well enough already thanks.
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