So.
I love my job. It's ace. I've been there a month, the rot will set in soon I'm sure. For now: happy chapette. Free time is now zilch, as I've gone all domesticated and joined a cleaning cult.
Explanations may be forthcoming. They may also not be.
Boys are all settled in at school and being ever so grown up. And astonishingly clever. Well, not THAT astonishing, being mine and all, but impressive all the same.
New most needed: a Kindle.
Yes, I have the Kindle app. I like. It's not so kind on the eyes. Yes, an iPad would probably be better. They cost a LOT more and are less handbag friendly. Oh, and the Kindle isn't made by Apple and so it may still work after a year. Grrrr. Ongoing 3G trauma. The general solution appears to be: upgrade to an iPhone 4.
I quite like the Sony Ericsson X10 Mini. It would do my head in due to its lack of iPhoneness within about an hour, I think, but a concerted perusal of phones yielded but one contender for anything beyond "meh": the X10 Mini. Not Pro, which is less Mini and loses the appeal. Keyboard Schmeyboard. If it gets Froyo, and I am such an Apple deserter for even knowing what that is.
I think my 3G operating issues are punishment for siding with the Androids. iOS 4.01 was unusable. 4.1 was hunky dory for a bit. Now: a bit (big bit) SLOWWWWW. But usuable, if sigh inducing. Number of sighs is directly proportional to desire for an N8. Oops. I know.
So. Therein lies all anyone would need to know about the Kindle.
I do like books. Lots and lots and lots: they have words in them. I like to go back to them as and when I feel like it. I have 1000s of them, and that's after serious culling (to charity, I will not bin a book, not even a Michael Moore). They take up a lot of room and have the following failings:
They're not that easy to hold.
If you want a book asap, you have to get a giant format (hardback or pointlessly big paperback). If you want to take such book anywhere while reading it, you need a small suitcase to carry it in.
They go yellow.
They take up a lot of room.
They cost more in print format than in ebook format.
Yes. That is correct.
All hail Amazon. Which we have been doing since ever they started but really, huzzah! The Kindle is (probably) a marvel.
Other reasons to love Amazon: Universal Wish Lists. Marvellously fantastic for deluded moments. You Never Know.
And, more realistically, useful for spouses who have "no idea".
This is (almost) the best time of year. Digging out warm clothes, dark evenings, the anticipation of Halloween and "goodness ME the shops have got Christmas in very early this year. Of course, I've started buying already..." and a stupendously grand TV schedule. Autumn TV rocks. I love it all, that fizzing almost about to think about being winter time of year. Brilliant.
I am particularly jubilant as I wore my down filled jacket today. I heart that.
Voici. Every thought I've had since last time I thought. All for you to enjoy.
A bientot. It is time for the sleeping.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Feel good and think
Asda have a wheen of books at the moment for £1. A lot of them are actually really good, most of them I have already read (low brow in other words) or own but haven't read (more high brow, and accounting for 99% of my books). But irresistible for merely one hundred pennies.
And so I found myself reading a book entitled "The Self Preservation Society" by Kate Harrison, which I was pleasantly surprised (dreadful cover) to really enjoy.
The protagonist is one Jo Morgan, who leads a very safe life, taking no risks and taking many, many precautions in case of the unthinkable. Until she almost dies in an unlikely accident and begins to realise how much of life she was missing out on by refusing to take any risks in any way.
The story of Jo's healing, and the people in her life helping or adapting to her changing perspectives, is an amusing, poignant and a thoroughly good read. It makes the reader consider their own life and for anyone who may be reluctant to take risks, or who live in fear of perceived risks, would quite possibly benefit from reading this.
Pop to Asda, or ask me for a loan of it if you know where to find me. And if you wait a wee while, I can report back on the second £1 book, The Brown Owl's Guide to Life by the same author.
And so I found myself reading a book entitled "The Self Preservation Society" by Kate Harrison, which I was pleasantly surprised (dreadful cover) to really enjoy.
The protagonist is one Jo Morgan, who leads a very safe life, taking no risks and taking many, many precautions in case of the unthinkable. Until she almost dies in an unlikely accident and begins to realise how much of life she was missing out on by refusing to take any risks in any way.
The story of Jo's healing, and the people in her life helping or adapting to her changing perspectives, is an amusing, poignant and a thoroughly good read. It makes the reader consider their own life and for anyone who may be reluctant to take risks, or who live in fear of perceived risks, would quite possibly benefit from reading this.
Pop to Asda, or ask me for a loan of it if you know where to find me. And if you wait a wee while, I can report back on the second £1 book, The Brown Owl's Guide to Life by the same author.
Friday, 29 January 2010
Coming Home
I have finished a book! And it's still January! And it was a book published this year!
Hmm.
It wasn't a heavyweight book, it was distinctly light, purchased because it said on the front that I'd like it if I liked Sophie Kinsella. Which I do, very much. On the back it told me that fans of Sophie Kinsella (for those that had forgotten since they read the front cover) and Cecelia Ahern would like it.
Oooh.
So I read it. Not obsessively, there are the odd books that I read at every opportunity, this was not one. Bedtime only. But I finished it, which these days says a LOT for a book. Mostly that it must have been a relatively simply read, but also that it held my interest for the week or so that it took to read.
The book in question is entitled "Coming Home" (hence my genius title) and the author is Melanie Rose.
The book is set in rural Cornwall and tells the tale of a young woman who is found in a major snowstorm suffering from total amnesia as to who she is, and is sheltered by a sad family, consisting of a father and his daughter together with their housekeeper and a variety of neighbours and relatives. The story of the family unfolds as the girl tries to open her own memory.
The story is intriguing enough to read on, but is unconvincingly realistic. The daughter of the family has not spoken for two years since her elder sister died and her mother left. She chatters away to the stranger who arrives in their house however. The mystery of the mother is somewhat spoiled by the fact that the father is described as a widower on the back cover.
In order to try and regain her memory, the girl seeks the help of a handily passing hypotherapist. She regresses to a previous life however and accesses the memory of a girl named Kitty who lived 100 years previously. Keen to discover Kitty's story, she undergoes hypnosis a number of times. The story that unravels and the parallels drawn with the girl's own life and the sad story of the family she is with is somewhat farfetched but it is rather nice.
Believing in fate, soulmates and fitting in where you are meant to be is a nice concept. It makes you think plesantly about people you are around, where you are in life and in particular, people who you feel drawn to for no apparent reason.
Comparisons to Sophie Kinsella and Cecelia Ahern are simply drawing attention to the fact that the story is loosely based around the supernatural, as both of those authors have tended to do.
Having finished the book and a-pondering over what to read next, I was overjoyed to receive today a most generous gift of a signed copy of Jasper Fforde's Shades of Grey. I adore Jasper Fforde, I really do, but I can't shake the sense that this book is terribly like Ben Elton's Blind Faith. I am only on page 3 and fully intend to read on, giving my favourite author the full benefit of the doubt, but the seeds have been planted and I'm seeing a lot of similarities.
Reportage will be done on completion. God knows when that'll be!
Hmm.
It wasn't a heavyweight book, it was distinctly light, purchased because it said on the front that I'd like it if I liked Sophie Kinsella. Which I do, very much. On the back it told me that fans of Sophie Kinsella (for those that had forgotten since they read the front cover) and Cecelia Ahern would like it.
Oooh.
So I read it. Not obsessively, there are the odd books that I read at every opportunity, this was not one. Bedtime only. But I finished it, which these days says a LOT for a book. Mostly that it must have been a relatively simply read, but also that it held my interest for the week or so that it took to read.
The book in question is entitled "Coming Home" (hence my genius title) and the author is Melanie Rose.
The book is set in rural Cornwall and tells the tale of a young woman who is found in a major snowstorm suffering from total amnesia as to who she is, and is sheltered by a sad family, consisting of a father and his daughter together with their housekeeper and a variety of neighbours and relatives. The story of the family unfolds as the girl tries to open her own memory.
The story is intriguing enough to read on, but is unconvincingly realistic. The daughter of the family has not spoken for two years since her elder sister died and her mother left. She chatters away to the stranger who arrives in their house however. The mystery of the mother is somewhat spoiled by the fact that the father is described as a widower on the back cover.
In order to try and regain her memory, the girl seeks the help of a handily passing hypotherapist. She regresses to a previous life however and accesses the memory of a girl named Kitty who lived 100 years previously. Keen to discover Kitty's story, she undergoes hypnosis a number of times. The story that unravels and the parallels drawn with the girl's own life and the sad story of the family she is with is somewhat farfetched but it is rather nice.
Believing in fate, soulmates and fitting in where you are meant to be is a nice concept. It makes you think plesantly about people you are around, where you are in life and in particular, people who you feel drawn to for no apparent reason.
Comparisons to Sophie Kinsella and Cecelia Ahern are simply drawing attention to the fact that the story is loosely based around the supernatural, as both of those authors have tended to do.
Having finished the book and a-pondering over what to read next, I was overjoyed to receive today a most generous gift of a signed copy of Jasper Fforde's Shades of Grey. I adore Jasper Fforde, I really do, but I can't shake the sense that this book is terribly like Ben Elton's Blind Faith. I am only on page 3 and fully intend to read on, giving my favourite author the full benefit of the doubt, but the seeds have been planted and I'm seeing a lot of similarities.
Reportage will be done on completion. God knows when that'll be!
Thursday, 14 January 2010
The plight of the unread
Due to the unfortunate ongoing combination of being unable to resist acquiring books and being unable to get on with reading, I have 4 books that I have had out of the library for some time. They have been renewed 6 times and I have read a bit of each. Fail.
In order to renew the books, I log into my account and click "renew all". Done. Except that proved too hard this month and by the time the memory kicked in, a fine of £1.52 had accumulated. 38p per book, which doesn't divide into any sensible division, but who am I to argue?
So duty called and offs I trotted to the library to pay up.
Oh yay! They have a fines amnesty because of the difficulty people have had getting to the library through snow. I pointed out that actually the snow didn't affect my getting to the computer and so I should really still pay. This was rewarded with a look of pity normally reserved for the mentally impaired and a reassurance that they simply weren't charging fines. And tada. All cleared.
A warm and fuzzy feeling from doing the right thing and being rewarded by saving money.
Huzzah!
In order to renew the books, I log into my account and click "renew all". Done. Except that proved too hard this month and by the time the memory kicked in, a fine of £1.52 had accumulated. 38p per book, which doesn't divide into any sensible division, but who am I to argue?
So duty called and offs I trotted to the library to pay up.
Oh yay! They have a fines amnesty because of the difficulty people have had getting to the library through snow. I pointed out that actually the snow didn't affect my getting to the computer and so I should really still pay. This was rewarded with a look of pity normally reserved for the mentally impaired and a reassurance that they simply weren't charging fines. And tada. All cleared.
A warm and fuzzy feeling from doing the right thing and being rewarded by saving money.
Huzzah!
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Books and the failure to read them
I can't edit this list where it's been. I am not going to read most of them in the next fortnight, so to record for posterity, the books I didn't get round to this year:
Terry Pratchett - Hogfather
Alison Weir - The Lady Elizabeth
Simon Hoggart - The Hamster that Loved Puccini
Andrew Davidson - The Gargoyle
Richard Hammond - On the Edge
Nicci French - The Safe House
Mark Steel - Vive La Revolution
Mark Watson - A Lighthearted Look at Murder
Mark Watson - Crap at the Environment
Phillip Pullman - Northern Lights
Phillip Pullman - The Subtle Knife
Phillip Pullman - The Amber Spyglass
Simon Winchester - The Surgeon of Crowthorne
Simon Winchester - The Map that Changed the World
Jasper Fforde - Well of Lost Plots
Jasper Fforde - Something Rotten
Jasper Fforde - First Among Sequels
Lionel Schriver - We need to talk about Kevin
Andrew Collins - Where did it all go Right?
Andrew Collins - Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
Andrew Collins - That's me in the Corner
Derron Brown - Tricks of the Mind
Lynne Truss - Talk to the Hand
Mark Kurlansky - Cod
Robert Winston - Human Instinct
Robert Winston - The Human Mind
Lynn Sloman - Car Sick
David Banister - Unsustainable Transport
Jeremy Paxman - The English
Mark Haddon - A Spot of Bother
Donna Tartt - The Secret History
Ian Marchant - Parallel Lines
Steven Pinker - Words and Rules
Ian Stewart - Professor Stewart's Cabinet of Mathematical Curiosities
Ben Goldacre - Bad Science
Robert Peston - Who Runs Britain
Val McDermid - The Distant Echo
Val McDermid - Beneath the Bleeding
Sebastian Faulks - Devil May Care
Sebastian Faulks - Engleby
John Humphrys - Devil's Advocate
John Humphrys - In God We Doubt
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Terry Pratchett - Hogfather
Alison Weir - The Lady Elizabeth
Simon Hoggart - The Hamster that Loved Puccini
Andrew Davidson - The Gargoyle
Richard Hammond - On the Edge
Nicci French - The Safe House
Mark Steel - Vive La Revolution
Mark Watson - A Lighthearted Look at Murder
Mark Watson - Crap at the Environment
Phillip Pullman - Northern Lights
Phillip Pullman - The Subtle Knife
Phillip Pullman - The Amber Spyglass
Simon Winchester - The Surgeon of Crowthorne
Simon Winchester - The Map that Changed the World
Jasper Fforde - Well of Lost Plots
Jasper Fforde - Something Rotten
Jasper Fforde - First Among Sequels
Lionel Schriver - We need to talk about Kevin
Andrew Collins - Where did it all go Right?
Andrew Collins - Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
Andrew Collins - That's me in the Corner
Derron Brown - Tricks of the Mind
Lynne Truss - Talk to the Hand
Mark Kurlansky - Cod
Robert Winston - Human Instinct
Robert Winston - The Human Mind
Lynn Sloman - Car Sick
David Banister - Unsustainable Transport
Jeremy Paxman - The English
Mark Haddon - A Spot of Bother
Donna Tartt - The Secret History
Ian Marchant - Parallel Lines
Steven Pinker - Words and Rules
Ian Stewart - Professor Stewart's Cabinet of Mathematical Curiosities
Ben Goldacre - Bad Science
Robert Peston - Who Runs Britain
Val McDermid - The Distant Echo
Val McDermid - Beneath the Bleeding
Sebastian Faulks - Devil May Care
Sebastian Faulks - Engleby
John Humphrys - Devil's Advocate
John Humphrys - In God We Doubt
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
What I done readed
This list of books...
It's not going down. It is getting longer. It should be almost infinitely long because there are so many books I have to read.
Oh. And the ones I own. Hunners of them. Most of my books were in storage until last month, and that there list of books for me to read consists of the ones I had in my possession at the time of writing. So that includes one shelf of books I thought I would want to read in the time I naively thought it would take to sell the house-I-will-live-in-for-the-next-forty-years, plus the ones I have bought or borrowed since January 2008.
And then the others returned. Hunners of them. Which is about a third of the books I owned before the storage preparation;I threw out (or transferred to boxes at me ma's because I cannot bring myself throw out a book and haven't yet given very many to charity as planned) a large proportion of my precious books. But still, hunners left. And very impressive many of them are. I may be very badly read, but I own some damned impressive books. Admittedly a lot of the books I have read that aren't pure fluff are popular science, which aren't popular enough to make it onto Lists, but there's a lot of classics and really good books, ones that make the should-have-read category. Ones that people refer to. Ones that crop up in other fiction and conversation and general bookishness. I own good books. I just haven't read them. I was reading earlier about projected readership and how more than one person is expected to read any one copy of a publication. It does seem to be assumed that when a book is purchased that it is read by at least one person. Umm.
Oh poor, unopened books! You are not unloved, I just haven't got to you yet. It may have been ten years, but I will get to you some day. Probably. And just because I gave up after a chapter or eight, doesn't mean a thing. I am currently reading a Terry Pratchett which is marvellous and I can never manage more than a page at a time (although I am in a state of permanent sedation and discomfort at present, I am relatively excused) so there's little hope for the less-than-marvellous. I haven't read some of the marvellous, Mr Fforde and Ms McDermid have unread tomes on those shelves. Andrew Collins' books: I only managed about a third of the first one before I got utterly depressed at the cheerful normalness of it. I don't know why I stopped reading 'Bye Bye Balham' by Richard Herring, it was really good. I think I had a moment of "must have escapism, don't want REAL, god, real life sucks" and accidentally bought my first Terry Pratchett. Which is unfair on any book. Ditto Patricia Wood's 'Lottery' - very good, very thought provoking... oh that was it. Made me think about things that made me sad. Which is quite probably the point, I'm a wimp.
I am also getting repetitive as I have typed most of that before. Yawn. Sorry. Sedated and senile.
So, for the ones I have read, a summary:
Mort, by Terry Pratchett: one of the best books I have read, as already detailed.
Shakespeare, by Bill Bryson: this was wonderful. Bryson writes magnificently, he uses words brilliantly and the whole book was fascinating. Being Scottish, English history is kept somewhat of a mystery. And there was more to Elizabeth I than murdering our Queen. Who'd have thunk it? Compelling, fascinating, brilliant. I learned about 40 new words reading this, huzzah for being able to instantly define words.
- aside, I have Stanza, an ebook reader for my phone, and it does this (word lookup) by simply clicking on the word. Just like that! Amazing! What was I talking about...? books? Oh yes.
A Perfect Match by Jane Moore: This was a good book, well written, good story. But nothing remarkable, nothing to make it remarkable. (Remarks she). Story is of a couple who have a sickly child, whose only cure is by a designer baby chosen to match his DNA. First child: not the father's, so the mother has to have another child by the man she had a one night stand with - a top politician. As you do. So, much scope for moral dilemma, which is presumably why this was chosen for Tesco Book Club. But as I say, didn't leave a mark.
Angus, Thongs and Full Frontal Snogging by Louise Rennison: Oh dear. I am a bit ashamed of this. I read this book because of a comment that piqued my curiosity. And then I proceeded to read the entire rest of the series. Yes, I did. It's aimed at teenagers. My 11 year old niece is also reading them just now. They are undoubtedly amusing and a nice diversion for a couple of hours, but they're not aimed at me, I don't know what I'm doing reading them. It is the diary of a 14 year old spoilt brat of a girl who talks about the boys she fancies and not a lot else. As did I at 14 (I now restrict that to 75% of my conversation). I'm not 14 any more. Oh, so what? Fun diversion. I'm not ashamed. I'm proud to embrace my inner teenager.
The Truth About Melody Browne by Lisa Jewell: I like Lisa Jewell, I've read all of her books and I have enjoyed them all. I enjoyed this. The story of this is about a girl who gets hypnotised and starts to regain her lost memories, she had previously remembered nothing prior to being 9. And she had quite a traumatic life, it's pretty interesting and Melody herself is pretty likeable. Quite moving, but I am afraid to say I finished it and put it straight onto the "try to sell if possible" pile.
Queen of Babble gets Hitched by Meg Cabot: Another one to display my maturity and literary achievement. Meg Cabot wrote the Princess Diaries and various other children's books. She has written a number of frothy and enjoyable books for adults and this is the third in the series about a girl who talks herself into trouble. I've read the other two and so I had to read this. Another quick, easy read with an immensely likeable heroine (a lot like Sophie Kinsella's shopaholic; she gets into strife by being impetuous and a bit dopey on occasion, but comes good in the end by being generally a good sort. Nothing like life, but smile inducing). Enjoyed.
Brain currently unstretched at all, braincells are dying off from lack of use as I type...
Secrets by Freya North: This is pink, girlie and undemanding, and I DON'T CARE!!! I love Freya North. I do. I've read all of her books, in order, as they came out, and I've loved them all. Some more than others, but I like all of her heroines (Fen's my favourite) and I am completely in love with each the men that capture her heroines' hearts. Her novels are set amongst settings close to the author's heart, and as such, the reader loves it too by the end. Cat's love for the Tour de France gave me an insight and interest into a sport I'd never looked at before. Fen's world of art history, Chloe's Cornwall, and the Saltburn of this book all stand out and become real. Reviews for her books say that she has matured, and she has, but that's not to say the early ones are immature. They're just different. Frothier. This latest book is intriguing, it is about a young single mother who arrives to housesit for a fascinating bridge builder. Their stories are slowly revealed as the young mum finds a life for herself in a northern seaside town. It's a really, really good read. This is my least favourite heroine, she's a bit perfect, but she's still interesting and likeable and has had the decency to have made a few mistakes along the way. There is an interview and all manner of notes at the back by the author which is fabulous to read while experiencing the momentary loss of the characters of the book, an emptiness on realising there is no more story to come. All fiction should leave you feeling like that.
My brain has still not been stretched.
The Life and Soul of the Party: This is chick lit by a bloke. It's nothing major, it's well written and the author is very good at characterisation, but it's just a book. It's a year in the life of 6 friends. It's mostly sad, it doesn't end well, but it's a good enough read.
Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi: This is fabulous. I was given this by a friend and I am very glad. It's the story of a girl growing up in Iran, about the revolution and the war, written entirely in cartoon format. Fascinating, thought provoking and clever... and I've lost it. I think I've subconsciously hidden it because I had to use my brain. Sigh.
All You Need is Love by Carole Matthews: I hated this. I have no idea why I finished it. It's diabolically bad. I've read Carole Matthews' books before and enjoyed them, I'm sure, but this is awful. The protaginist is prissy, goodly, annoying and unlikeable. Flawless, a perfect citizen, never done anything wrong, yada, yada. She has a son of ten, born when she was 17, (but that was an dodgy condom, naturally, she would never have intentionally taken such a risk) and she's a model mother. In a sink estate in Liverpool, which is reiterated every paragraph or so. She has a handsome, kind, funny, generally brilliant ex boyfriend who she has dumped for being unambitious, but because she's so damned perfect, he remains in love with her and is around being generally supportive and great all the time. She meets Mr Rich, Perfect and Jawdroppingly Handsome and, obviously, he falls madly in love with her. She is uneasy about it, because even though she's perfect, she struggles to fit in with his lifestyle, being from the afore-oft-mentioned sink estate. Meantime she gets the council to give her some massive grant to help tidy up the estate and her sheer perfection and general greatness mean that people from the council turn up to join in the work, because they thought they might like help, and the hoodies discover that they love gardening and they don't need to vandalise things any more. Just in case things weren't splendid enough for everyone, Superwoman (she does actually refer to herself as that)'s son steals the ex-boyfriend's paintings and gives them to the Tate Liverpool, who adore them, buy them, and secure a massive commission for the ex boyfriend. Superwoman meantime turns down Mr RPJ-H's marriage proposal because she doesn't want to leave her beloved estate. No, to be fair, she doesn't think it's right for her son. He's better on the estate where he's loved than with lots of money and a stepfather than doesn't relate well to a child he doesn't know. Or something.
There must be a humour to this, it must be something that I'm completely missing. There must be, it must just be my decaying brain, it must be an Ben Elton-esque parody on these type of book... or this is the one of the worst books ever written.
And now I am ignoring all the books I own and am reading Sourcery by Terry Pratchett. One page per sitting...
It's not going down. It is getting longer. It should be almost infinitely long because there are so many books I have to read.
Oh. And the ones I own. Hunners of them. Most of my books were in storage until last month, and that there list of books for me to read consists of the ones I had in my possession at the time of writing. So that includes one shelf of books I thought I would want to read in the time I naively thought it would take to sell the house-I-will-live-in-for-the-next-forty-years, plus the ones I have bought or borrowed since January 2008.
And then the others returned. Hunners of them. Which is about a third of the books I owned before the storage preparation;I threw out (or transferred to boxes at me ma's because I cannot bring myself throw out a book and haven't yet given very many to charity as planned) a large proportion of my precious books. But still, hunners left. And very impressive many of them are. I may be very badly read, but I own some damned impressive books. Admittedly a lot of the books I have read that aren't pure fluff are popular science, which aren't popular enough to make it onto Lists, but there's a lot of classics and really good books, ones that make the should-have-read category. Ones that people refer to. Ones that crop up in other fiction and conversation and general bookishness. I own good books. I just haven't read them. I was reading earlier about projected readership and how more than one person is expected to read any one copy of a publication. It does seem to be assumed that when a book is purchased that it is read by at least one person. Umm.
Oh poor, unopened books! You are not unloved, I just haven't got to you yet. It may have been ten years, but I will get to you some day. Probably. And just because I gave up after a chapter or eight, doesn't mean a thing. I am currently reading a Terry Pratchett which is marvellous and I can never manage more than a page at a time (although I am in a state of permanent sedation and discomfort at present, I am relatively excused) so there's little hope for the less-than-marvellous. I haven't read some of the marvellous, Mr Fforde and Ms McDermid have unread tomes on those shelves. Andrew Collins' books: I only managed about a third of the first one before I got utterly depressed at the cheerful normalness of it. I don't know why I stopped reading 'Bye Bye Balham' by Richard Herring, it was really good. I think I had a moment of "must have escapism, don't want REAL, god, real life sucks" and accidentally bought my first Terry Pratchett. Which is unfair on any book. Ditto Patricia Wood's 'Lottery' - very good, very thought provoking... oh that was it. Made me think about things that made me sad. Which is quite probably the point, I'm a wimp.
I am also getting repetitive as I have typed most of that before. Yawn. Sorry. Sedated and senile.
So, for the ones I have read, a summary:
Mort, by Terry Pratchett: one of the best books I have read, as already detailed.
Shakespeare, by Bill Bryson: this was wonderful. Bryson writes magnificently, he uses words brilliantly and the whole book was fascinating. Being Scottish, English history is kept somewhat of a mystery. And there was more to Elizabeth I than murdering our Queen. Who'd have thunk it? Compelling, fascinating, brilliant. I learned about 40 new words reading this, huzzah for being able to instantly define words.
- aside, I have Stanza, an ebook reader for my phone, and it does this (word lookup) by simply clicking on the word. Just like that! Amazing! What was I talking about...? books? Oh yes.
A Perfect Match by Jane Moore: This was a good book, well written, good story. But nothing remarkable, nothing to make it remarkable. (Remarks she). Story is of a couple who have a sickly child, whose only cure is by a designer baby chosen to match his DNA. First child: not the father's, so the mother has to have another child by the man she had a one night stand with - a top politician. As you do. So, much scope for moral dilemma, which is presumably why this was chosen for Tesco Book Club. But as I say, didn't leave a mark.
Angus, Thongs and Full Frontal Snogging by Louise Rennison: Oh dear. I am a bit ashamed of this. I read this book because of a comment that piqued my curiosity. And then I proceeded to read the entire rest of the series. Yes, I did. It's aimed at teenagers. My 11 year old niece is also reading them just now. They are undoubtedly amusing and a nice diversion for a couple of hours, but they're not aimed at me, I don't know what I'm doing reading them. It is the diary of a 14 year old spoilt brat of a girl who talks about the boys she fancies and not a lot else. As did I at 14 (I now restrict that to 75% of my conversation). I'm not 14 any more. Oh, so what? Fun diversion. I'm not ashamed. I'm proud to embrace my inner teenager.
The Truth About Melody Browne by Lisa Jewell: I like Lisa Jewell, I've read all of her books and I have enjoyed them all. I enjoyed this. The story of this is about a girl who gets hypnotised and starts to regain her lost memories, she had previously remembered nothing prior to being 9. And she had quite a traumatic life, it's pretty interesting and Melody herself is pretty likeable. Quite moving, but I am afraid to say I finished it and put it straight onto the "try to sell if possible" pile.
Queen of Babble gets Hitched by Meg Cabot: Another one to display my maturity and literary achievement. Meg Cabot wrote the Princess Diaries and various other children's books. She has written a number of frothy and enjoyable books for adults and this is the third in the series about a girl who talks herself into trouble. I've read the other two and so I had to read this. Another quick, easy read with an immensely likeable heroine (a lot like Sophie Kinsella's shopaholic; she gets into strife by being impetuous and a bit dopey on occasion, but comes good in the end by being generally a good sort. Nothing like life, but smile inducing). Enjoyed.
Brain currently unstretched at all, braincells are dying off from lack of use as I type...
Secrets by Freya North: This is pink, girlie and undemanding, and I DON'T CARE!!! I love Freya North. I do. I've read all of her books, in order, as they came out, and I've loved them all. Some more than others, but I like all of her heroines (Fen's my favourite) and I am completely in love with each the men that capture her heroines' hearts. Her novels are set amongst settings close to the author's heart, and as such, the reader loves it too by the end. Cat's love for the Tour de France gave me an insight and interest into a sport I'd never looked at before. Fen's world of art history, Chloe's Cornwall, and the Saltburn of this book all stand out and become real. Reviews for her books say that she has matured, and she has, but that's not to say the early ones are immature. They're just different. Frothier. This latest book is intriguing, it is about a young single mother who arrives to housesit for a fascinating bridge builder. Their stories are slowly revealed as the young mum finds a life for herself in a northern seaside town. It's a really, really good read. This is my least favourite heroine, she's a bit perfect, but she's still interesting and likeable and has had the decency to have made a few mistakes along the way. There is an interview and all manner of notes at the back by the author which is fabulous to read while experiencing the momentary loss of the characters of the book, an emptiness on realising there is no more story to come. All fiction should leave you feeling like that.
My brain has still not been stretched.
The Life and Soul of the Party: This is chick lit by a bloke. It's nothing major, it's well written and the author is very good at characterisation, but it's just a book. It's a year in the life of 6 friends. It's mostly sad, it doesn't end well, but it's a good enough read.
Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi: This is fabulous. I was given this by a friend and I am very glad. It's the story of a girl growing up in Iran, about the revolution and the war, written entirely in cartoon format. Fascinating, thought provoking and clever... and I've lost it. I think I've subconsciously hidden it because I had to use my brain. Sigh.
All You Need is Love by Carole Matthews: I hated this. I have no idea why I finished it. It's diabolically bad. I've read Carole Matthews' books before and enjoyed them, I'm sure, but this is awful. The protaginist is prissy, goodly, annoying and unlikeable. Flawless, a perfect citizen, never done anything wrong, yada, yada. She has a son of ten, born when she was 17, (but that was an dodgy condom, naturally, she would never have intentionally taken such a risk) and she's a model mother. In a sink estate in Liverpool, which is reiterated every paragraph or so. She has a handsome, kind, funny, generally brilliant ex boyfriend who she has dumped for being unambitious, but because she's so damned perfect, he remains in love with her and is around being generally supportive and great all the time. She meets Mr Rich, Perfect and Jawdroppingly Handsome and, obviously, he falls madly in love with her. She is uneasy about it, because even though she's perfect, she struggles to fit in with his lifestyle, being from the afore-oft-mentioned sink estate. Meantime she gets the council to give her some massive grant to help tidy up the estate and her sheer perfection and general greatness mean that people from the council turn up to join in the work, because they thought they might like help, and the hoodies discover that they love gardening and they don't need to vandalise things any more. Just in case things weren't splendid enough for everyone, Superwoman (she does actually refer to herself as that)'s son steals the ex-boyfriend's paintings and gives them to the Tate Liverpool, who adore them, buy them, and secure a massive commission for the ex boyfriend. Superwoman meantime turns down Mr RPJ-H's marriage proposal because she doesn't want to leave her beloved estate. No, to be fair, she doesn't think it's right for her son. He's better on the estate where he's loved than with lots of money and a stepfather than doesn't relate well to a child he doesn't know. Or something.
There must be a humour to this, it must be something that I'm completely missing. There must be, it must just be my decaying brain, it must be an Ben Elton-esque parody on these type of book... or this is the one of the worst books ever written.
And now I am ignoring all the books I own and am reading Sourcery by Terry Pratchett. One page per sitting...
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Oh look, she posts.
I've been ill and busy and rubbish and tired. It seems that I gave up blogging pretty much for Lent, I've not read half the ones I normally read either. It wasn't deliberate. I may be rubbish again. No one cares really.
I have been returned my non essentials. All that which was in storage for the exciting house sale that we anticipated last January (oh the timing, we have a gift) and which we have abandoned all hope of has now been returned. I have my bookcases, my chests of drawers, my frivolous scarves, my books, my silly things. All back. All mine. I feel a bit of me returning. I have things that I forgot I owned, it's been jolly nice. I missed my books. I love my books.
When I was young I used to write a lot. Even when computers became the mainstay of communication, I liked to write things down. I still do, but I lose them. I didn't used to lose so much and so have found a couple of young-me things.
One is a book entitled "All About Me" which is intended for young children but which my friends purchased for my 21st birthday and which I dutifully completed.
You'd think I'd change more in 13 years. I am less sappy about the man, no longer have a dog, still despair about living in Kirkcaldy (although have lived away for a few years in between), still hate being skint and am still hoping to lose weight - except unlike then I actually have weight to lose. I thought I was vast! I was right in the middle of my ideal weight range. Hmm. Maybe when I'm 45 I'll look back at now and think "golly, and I wasn't even obese!" What a depressing thought. Being over 40 that is :-p
I don't mean it. I quite like old people.
Ok, I'll shut up now.
I also found a list of rules that I compiled for my husband before we were married. (Not as a pre-nuptial thing, this was before we knew we were getting married). They consist of the mostly sensible:
1. Shave regularly
2. Make cups of tea on demand
3. Remain on own side of bed while asleep
4. Don't hog the Nintendo/PC/bath
5. Always put the seat down on the toilet
6. Don't take Morag's seat when she goes to the kitchen (????)
7. Completely in charge of dogwalking
8. No dropping ash on carpet
9. Discourage growth of back hair
10. Be prepared to try other foods other than bacon/bread/cheese/chocolate
11. Don't eat chocolate that doesn't belong to you
12. Don't refer to food you don't like as "sick"
13. Always cut up your own cornbeef
14. Never admit in public that you play Galaxy
15. No watching football where you don't care about the result
16. No new speakers till old ones are broken
17. No old trainers when new ones are available.
Quite reasonable, I'd say and mostly still entirely applicable. No idea what I was on about in 6, 7 and 8 no longer apply in the absence of cigarettes and dog. No 9 is possibly unfair and I don't remember what the Galaxy of 14 is about.
Oh books. Lovely books, I have so many to read, I have many many more . I will finish Shakespeare tonight then I am deviating off the list for a bit to read my bookclub book - interesting as it is Alexander McCall Smith (La saves the world) and I have never read him on account of deciding I wouldn't like his books for no good reason - and to read Jade's autobiography for absolutely no good reason other than the fact that she was a mummy to two little boys. Shakespeare, McCall Smith and Jade. I feel confused already.
Happy Easter, which is what people seem to be doing this weekend, starting a day early. I don't even like chocolate that much.
I have been returned my non essentials. All that which was in storage for the exciting house sale that we anticipated last January (oh the timing, we have a gift) and which we have abandoned all hope of has now been returned. I have my bookcases, my chests of drawers, my frivolous scarves, my books, my silly things. All back. All mine. I feel a bit of me returning. I have things that I forgot I owned, it's been jolly nice. I missed my books. I love my books.
When I was young I used to write a lot. Even when computers became the mainstay of communication, I liked to write things down. I still do, but I lose them. I didn't used to lose so much and so have found a couple of young-me things.
One is a book entitled "All About Me" which is intended for young children but which my friends purchased for my 21st birthday and which I dutifully completed.
You'd think I'd change more in 13 years. I am less sappy about the man, no longer have a dog, still despair about living in Kirkcaldy (although have lived away for a few years in between), still hate being skint and am still hoping to lose weight - except unlike then I actually have weight to lose. I thought I was vast! I was right in the middle of my ideal weight range. Hmm. Maybe when I'm 45 I'll look back at now and think "golly, and I wasn't even obese!" What a depressing thought. Being over 40 that is :-p
I don't mean it. I quite like old people.
Ok, I'll shut up now.
I also found a list of rules that I compiled for my husband before we were married. (Not as a pre-nuptial thing, this was before we knew we were getting married). They consist of the mostly sensible:
1. Shave regularly
2. Make cups of tea on demand
3. Remain on own side of bed while asleep
4. Don't hog the Nintendo/PC/bath
5. Always put the seat down on the toilet
6. Don't take Morag's seat when she goes to the kitchen (????)
7. Completely in charge of dogwalking
8. No dropping ash on carpet
9. Discourage growth of back hair
10. Be prepared to try other foods other than bacon/bread/cheese/chocolate
11. Don't eat chocolate that doesn't belong to you
12. Don't refer to food you don't like as "sick"
13. Always cut up your own cornbeef
14. Never admit in public that you play Galaxy
15. No watching football where you don't care about the result
16. No new speakers till old ones are broken
17. No old trainers when new ones are available.
Quite reasonable, I'd say and mostly still entirely applicable. No idea what I was on about in 6, 7 and 8 no longer apply in the absence of cigarettes and dog. No 9 is possibly unfair and I don't remember what the Galaxy of 14 is about.
Oh books. Lovely books, I have so many to read, I have many many more . I will finish Shakespeare tonight then I am deviating off the list for a bit to read my bookclub book - interesting as it is Alexander McCall Smith (La saves the world) and I have never read him on account of deciding I wouldn't like his books for no good reason - and to read Jade's autobiography for absolutely no good reason other than the fact that she was a mummy to two little boys. Shakespeare, McCall Smith and Jade. I feel confused already.
Happy Easter, which is what people seem to be doing this weekend, starting a day early. I don't even like chocolate that much.
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Not read
Mosey mosey round and round the net.
I've come across a list of the top 200 books as voted for in the Big Read by the BBC.
Anyway, here it be:
1. The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien*
2. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
7. Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis
10. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
11. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller*
12. Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë*
13. Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks*
14. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
15. The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens*
18. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernières*
20. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy*
21. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J. K. Rowling
23. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling
24. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling
25. The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien*
26. Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch by George Eliot
28. A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
29. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
30. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
31. The Story of Tracy Beaker by Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
33. The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
35. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion by Jane Austen
39. Dune by Frank Herbert
40. Emma by Jane Austen
41. Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery
42. Watership Down by Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm by George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
48. Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom by Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
53. The Stand by Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy*
55. A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth
56. The BFG by Roald Dahl
57. Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty by Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer
60. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky*
61. Noughts & Crosses by Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden*
63. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough
65. Mort by Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton
67. The Magus by John Fowles
68. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
69. Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett
70. Lord of the Flies by William Golding
71. Perfume by Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch by Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda by Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History by Donna Tartt*
77. The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins*
78. Ulysses by James Joyce
79. Bleak House by Charles Dickens
80. Double Act by Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits by Roald Dahl
82. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith*
83. Holes by Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast by Mervyn Peake
85. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel by Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
89. Magician by Raymond E. Feist
90. On the Road by Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather by Mario Puzo
92. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel
93. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine by Anya Seton
96. Kane and Abel by Jeffrey Archer
97. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls in Love by Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
101. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome
102. Small Gods by Terry Pratchett
103. The Beach by Alex Garland
104. Dracula by Bram Stoker
105. Point Blanc by Anthony Horowitz
106. The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens
107. Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz
108. The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks
109. The Day of the Jackal by Frederick Forsyth
110. The Illustrated Mum by Jacqueline Wilson
111. Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
112. The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾ by Sue Townsend
113. The Cruel Sea by Nicholas Monsarrat
114. Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
115. The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy
116. The Dare Game by Jacqueline Wilson
117. Bad Girls by Jacqueline Wilson
118. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
119. Shōgun by James Clavell
120. The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham
121. Lola Rose by Jacqueline Wilson
122. Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray*
123. The Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy
124. House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
125. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
126. Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett
127. Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging by Louise Rennison
128. The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
129. Possession: A Romance by A. S. Byatt
130. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
131. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
132. Danny, the Champion of the World by Roald Dahl
133. East of Eden by John Steinbeck
134. George's Marvellous Medicine by Roald Dahl
135. Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett
136. The Color Purple by Alice Walker
137. Hogfather by Terry Pratchett
138. The Thirty-nine Steps by John Buchan
139. Girls in Tears by Jacqueline Wilson
140. Sleepovers by Jacqueline Wilson
141. All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
142. Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson
143. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
144. It by Stephen King
145. James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
146. The Green Mile by Stephen King*
147. Papillon by Henri Charrière
148. Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett
149. Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian
150. Skeleton Key by Anthony Horowitz
151. Soul Music by Terry Pratchett
152. Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett
153. The Fifth Elephant by Terry Pratchett
154. Atonement by Ian McEwan
155. Secrets by Jacqueline Wilson
156. The Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier
157. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
158. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
159. Kim by Rudyard Kipling
160. Cross Stitch by Diana Gabaldon
161. Moby-Dick by Herman Melville
162. River God by Wilbur Smith
163. Sunset Song by Lewis Grassic Gibbon
164. The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx
165. The World According to Garp by John Irving
166. Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore
167. Girls Out Late by Jacqueline Wilson
168. The Far Pavilions by M. M. Kaye
169. The Witches by Roald Dahl
170. Charlotte's Web by E. B. White
171. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
172. They Used to Play on Grass by Terry Venables and Gordon Williams
173. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
174. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
175. Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder
176. Dustbin Baby by Jacqueline Wilson
177. Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl
178. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
179. Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
180. The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
181. The Suitcase Kid by Jacqueline Wilson
182. Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
183. The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay
184. Silas Marner by George Eliot
185. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
186. Diary of a Nobody by George and Weedon Grossmith
187. Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh
188. Goosebumps by R. L. Stine
189. Heidi by Johanna Spyri
190. Sons and Lovers by D. H. Lawrence
191. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
192. Man and Boy by Tony Parsons
193. The Truth by Terry Pratchett
194. The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells
195. The Horse Whisperer by Nicholas Evans
196. A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
197. Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett
198. The Once and Future King by T. H. White
199. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle
200. Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews
Oh how ashamed am I!! This, I think, is even worse than films.
The ones in bold I have read, the starred ones I have started but not finished. I have mostly read children's books. Oh dear. Oh dear. Somebody, somewhere said that the average adult has only read six of these, so I'm possibly marginally better than the average adult. Oh help. I think I really need to take "reading" off my CV.
I think just one of these appears in my 2009 list, so that's not going to help. I've got Great Expectations and Crime and Punishment by email as well, I suppose. I've read some books that would surely have made the list in the 6 years since this was compiled. That Curious Incident dog one. I read that.
I am going to Read. A. Book (or 200).
I've come across a list of the top 200 books as voted for in the Big Read by the BBC.
Anyway, here it be:
1. The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien*
2. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
7. Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis
10. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
11. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller*
12. Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë*
13. Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks*
14. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
15. The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens*
18. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernières*
20. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy*
21. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J. K. Rowling
23. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling
24. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling
25. The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien*
26. Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch by George Eliot
28. A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
29. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
30. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
31. The Story of Tracy Beaker by Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
33. The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
35. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion by Jane Austen
39. Dune by Frank Herbert
40. Emma by Jane Austen
41. Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery
42. Watership Down by Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm by George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
48. Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom by Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
53. The Stand by Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy*
55. A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth
56. The BFG by Roald Dahl
57. Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty by Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer
60. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky*
61. Noughts & Crosses by Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden*
63. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough
65. Mort by Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton
67. The Magus by John Fowles
68. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
69. Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett
70. Lord of the Flies by William Golding
71. Perfume by Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch by Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda by Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History by Donna Tartt*
77. The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins*
78. Ulysses by James Joyce
79. Bleak House by Charles Dickens
80. Double Act by Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits by Roald Dahl
82. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith*
83. Holes by Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast by Mervyn Peake
85. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel by Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
89. Magician by Raymond E. Feist
90. On the Road by Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather by Mario Puzo
92. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel
93. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine by Anya Seton
96. Kane and Abel by Jeffrey Archer
97. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls in Love by Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
101. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome
102. Small Gods by Terry Pratchett
103. The Beach by Alex Garland
104. Dracula by Bram Stoker
105. Point Blanc by Anthony Horowitz
106. The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens
107. Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz
108. The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks
109. The Day of the Jackal by Frederick Forsyth
110. The Illustrated Mum by Jacqueline Wilson
111. Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
112. The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾ by Sue Townsend
113. The Cruel Sea by Nicholas Monsarrat
114. Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
115. The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy
116. The Dare Game by Jacqueline Wilson
117. Bad Girls by Jacqueline Wilson
118. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
119. Shōgun by James Clavell
120. The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham
121. Lola Rose by Jacqueline Wilson
122. Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray*
123. The Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy
124. House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
125. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
126. Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett
127. Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging by Louise Rennison
128. The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
129. Possession: A Romance by A. S. Byatt
130. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
131. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
132. Danny, the Champion of the World by Roald Dahl
133. East of Eden by John Steinbeck
134. George's Marvellous Medicine by Roald Dahl
135. Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett
136. The Color Purple by Alice Walker
137. Hogfather by Terry Pratchett
138. The Thirty-nine Steps by John Buchan
139. Girls in Tears by Jacqueline Wilson
140. Sleepovers by Jacqueline Wilson
141. All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
142. Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson
143. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
144. It by Stephen King
145. James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
146. The Green Mile by Stephen King*
147. Papillon by Henri Charrière
148. Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett
149. Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian
150. Skeleton Key by Anthony Horowitz
151. Soul Music by Terry Pratchett
152. Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett
153. The Fifth Elephant by Terry Pratchett
154. Atonement by Ian McEwan
155. Secrets by Jacqueline Wilson
156. The Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier
157. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
158. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
159. Kim by Rudyard Kipling
160. Cross Stitch by Diana Gabaldon
161. Moby-Dick by Herman Melville
162. River God by Wilbur Smith
163. Sunset Song by Lewis Grassic Gibbon
164. The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx
165. The World According to Garp by John Irving
166. Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore
167. Girls Out Late by Jacqueline Wilson
168. The Far Pavilions by M. M. Kaye
169. The Witches by Roald Dahl
170. Charlotte's Web by E. B. White
171. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
172. They Used to Play on Grass by Terry Venables and Gordon Williams
173. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
174. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
175. Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder
176. Dustbin Baby by Jacqueline Wilson
177. Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl
178. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
179. Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
180. The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
181. The Suitcase Kid by Jacqueline Wilson
182. Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
183. The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay
184. Silas Marner by George Eliot
185. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
186. Diary of a Nobody by George and Weedon Grossmith
187. Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh
188. Goosebumps by R. L. Stine
189. Heidi by Johanna Spyri
190. Sons and Lovers by D. H. Lawrence
191. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
192. Man and Boy by Tony Parsons
193. The Truth by Terry Pratchett
194. The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells
195. The Horse Whisperer by Nicholas Evans
196. A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
197. Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett
198. The Once and Future King by T. H. White
199. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle
200. Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews
Oh how ashamed am I!! This, I think, is even worse than films.
The ones in bold I have read, the starred ones I have started but not finished. I have mostly read children's books. Oh dear. Oh dear. Somebody, somewhere said that the average adult has only read six of these, so I'm possibly marginally better than the average adult. Oh help. I think I really need to take "reading" off my CV.
I think just one of these appears in my 2009 list, so that's not going to help. I've got Great Expectations and Crime and Punishment by email as well, I suppose. I've read some books that would surely have made the list in the 6 years since this was compiled. That Curious Incident dog one. I read that.
I am going to Read. A. Book (or 200).
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Oh to have a brain again
Boy, am I rubbish at reading. I have the attention span of a two year old.
Notes on books before I give misleading impressions about books that are most worthy:
Bye Bye Balham by Richard Herring is good. I need escapism and it's all real. Obviously. I'm a tit.
Lottery by Patricia Wood is also good, and interesting. It's been paused because it makes me think too much about things I don't have the energy to think about just now. I'm a wimp.
My brain is weighed down with the things I HAVEN'T read. I am not well read. I used to be, until I was about, ooh, 15. Books now need added to films under "things that everyone else knows about and I just don't".
Sigh. I know a lot about traffic lights. You know, I am actually looking FORWARD to getting my next essays. Osadami.
Notes on books before I give misleading impressions about books that are most worthy:
Bye Bye Balham by Richard Herring is good. I need escapism and it's all real. Obviously. I'm a tit.
Lottery by Patricia Wood is also good, and interesting. It's been paused because it makes me think too much about things I don't have the energy to think about just now. I'm a wimp.
My brain is weighed down with the things I HAVEN'T read. I am not well read. I used to be, until I was about, ooh, 15. Books now need added to films under "things that everyone else knows about and I just don't".
Sigh. I know a lot about traffic lights. You know, I am actually looking FORWARD to getting my next essays. Osadami.
Saturday, 31 January 2009
Thwarted
New reading plan: book 1 of 43 or so.
FAIL.
Such goodness in not opening the new arrival books. Such enjoyment of the book (Mort). Such despair at the fact that it has Vanished. Off. The. Face. Of. The. Earth.
I checked the usual places: under the bed, down the back of the sofa, left on a table somewhere etc.
No joy.
I checked the unusual places: inside a cupboard, on top of the toilet, inside the washing basket etc.
No joy.
I thought carefully when I last had it. Either 4am when ambitiously thinking I could recognise words while my son was awake and needing cuddled or at about 9am when I was ambitiously thinking I was awake enough to recognise words after very little sleep. Either way, I've put it down in a state of almost asleepness and thus it could theoretically be anywhere. And if it is anywhere, it could have been found by little people, so it could really be anywhere.
I obsessed. I moved everything. I checked the bookcase a thousand times, it might have been put back. I checked the books I sorted out to go away today a hundred times.
I've looked (roughly, it's icky) in the bin. I've had the sofa out, I've searched through every pile of stuff (house is kinda sorted, looks a bit like a bomb landed).
Now I'm at the stage where I have a flash of inspiration and think "ah yes! if I had been on my way to such and such, it would be THERE..." but to no avail. And each time I walk past anything, I check it for a book. I've found so many books. Not it. Not Mort. I was really enjoying it as well, I was ceasing to be at all scared of Death and was getting right into it. But the new one-at-a-time rule decrees that I cannot read another book at the same time. So either I read nothing till Mort comes home, or I start another book and cast Mort aside even should he return. He would have to wait till the next one was finished.
So be it. Mort will be a later book to read. Sigh. And so onward, with Bye Bye Balham, by the very lovely Mr Herring (it was under the bed, which was why I hadn't gone to it already as promised in a previous bloggery. And I started it before, I just got distracted, so it's not a whole book to read. Mort will not have to wait long for Richard to finish, I'm sure. This tangent is getting odd.)
I have found my hedgehog though, I lost it briefly in the mayhem, but he came out on top. Hurrah for Hedgehog the hedgehog.
FAIL.
Such goodness in not opening the new arrival books. Such enjoyment of the book (Mort). Such despair at the fact that it has Vanished. Off. The. Face. Of. The. Earth.
I checked the usual places: under the bed, down the back of the sofa, left on a table somewhere etc.
No joy.
I checked the unusual places: inside a cupboard, on top of the toilet, inside the washing basket etc.
No joy.
I thought carefully when I last had it. Either 4am when ambitiously thinking I could recognise words while my son was awake and needing cuddled or at about 9am when I was ambitiously thinking I was awake enough to recognise words after very little sleep. Either way, I've put it down in a state of almost asleepness and thus it could theoretically be anywhere. And if it is anywhere, it could have been found by little people, so it could really be anywhere.
I obsessed. I moved everything. I checked the bookcase a thousand times, it might have been put back. I checked the books I sorted out to go away today a hundred times.
I've looked (roughly, it's icky) in the bin. I've had the sofa out, I've searched through every pile of stuff (house is kinda sorted, looks a bit like a bomb landed).
Now I'm at the stage where I have a flash of inspiration and think "ah yes! if I had been on my way to such and such, it would be THERE..." but to no avail. And each time I walk past anything, I check it for a book. I've found so many books. Not it. Not Mort. I was really enjoying it as well, I was ceasing to be at all scared of Death and was getting right into it. But the new one-at-a-time rule decrees that I cannot read another book at the same time. So either I read nothing till Mort comes home, or I start another book and cast Mort aside even should he return. He would have to wait till the next one was finished.
So be it. Mort will be a later book to read. Sigh. And so onward, with Bye Bye Balham, by the very lovely Mr Herring (it was under the bed, which was why I hadn't gone to it already as promised in a previous bloggery. And I started it before, I just got distracted, so it's not a whole book to read. Mort will not have to wait long for Richard to finish, I'm sure. This tangent is getting odd.)
I have found my hedgehog though, I lost it briefly in the mayhem, but he came out on top. Hurrah for Hedgehog the hedgehog.
Monday, 26 January 2009
Lost in Berkshire
Today I joined myself and my children to the library. I have no idea why I hadn't done this long since, but I hadn't, and today I did. I love libraries, full of books and quietness. And I can now take up to 45 books out at any one time. The possibilities make me tingle with anticipation of all the books I can order online! How good is that? Like Amazon,but free!! They didn't do that when I last was a member of a library. Which was at least 6 years ago, fool that I am.
I didn't take any books for myself out though, just some for the kids. Why? Because I have 40 odd books on my bookshelves that I own, some gifts, most bought by me. Books that I want to read. That I have read some of and given up on. That are by some of my most favourite authors. Two I don't yet own, by Ben Goldacre and Ian Stewart, but they're in the post and so will be read, probably first.
I didn't take any books for myself out though, just some for the kids. Why? Because I have 40 odd books on my bookshelves that I own, some gifts, most bought by me. Books that I want to read. That I have read some of and given up on. That are by some of my most favourite authors. Two I don't yet own, by Ben Goldacre and Ian Stewart, but they're in the post and so will be read, probably first.
Now, an exercise in humility: I have posted this list on this blog. Right below the latest post. There, look, down there. Fascinating stuff, huh? It's a mix of stuff that I haven't read yet, some I have started and not got into but not disliked, some I haven't opened, some I loved and just got distracted. Jasper Fforde's in there! Three of them!!!!!!!! Don't ask me why. Derron Brown, Mark Watson, John Humphrys, Val McDermid - all brilliant. Andrew Collins? No, I don't understand THAT one at all. There's nothing I dislike, I purged myself of all of those in one of my many book sorteries of the last year. They are in the order I saw them in, which is no order whatsoever, other than putting an author's work together.
The reason for posting this is not that I expect anyone to have any interest, but because I feel that by putting it on the public domain I may feel compelled to try and dent the list rather than just ploughing through the entire chart section of the supermarkets endlessly while making the list longer. Although some of the list is chart stuff, I'm not in the least bit elitist about what I give up on.
The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them.
Mark Twain
Friday, 23 January 2009
I love...
1) My toilet
I didn't realise how damned lovely it was to have the full use of a toilet in one's house until I spent nearly 24 hours with a useless toilet and a bucket to flush with. A new toilet was installed today and oh boy is it nice to have. Sadly it took them rather too many hours with the water off and by the end I was in desperate need of a coffee and a pee. I was not amused by the suggestion that I could in fact solve both requirements in one unpleasant go.
2) Richard Herring
I'm not bonkers. Or I'm no more bonkers than he is anyway, which is *distinctly* unbonkersy. He got an iPhone and he gets it! He does! He realises the love! Read here to see that I am not alone in my belovedness of the bestest ever gadgetry.
He blogged about sleep one time at virtually the exact same moment I did. And he pondered about getting old the day after my birthday. So to show my utmost respect for things that are most definitely not complete coincidence, I'm putting him second to a toilet in a list of meaninglessness.
3) Books
I have read 3 books in a little over a week. Oh yes. Finished completely. Three separate books. All chick lit, all from the charts in Tesco. I've started another 3 but they went the way of most books (into the later pile) on account of needing a brain. No offence to any of the books I did read, but sometimes (the week after exams) you really need to switch off and into easy reading. Three different books, but strangely all came down to the same point: appreciate what you've got.
So I have been. For all that is crap, if I changed anything at all in my past, I might not be here now with two amazing children and I wouldn't change them for any of the things I think I need.
And now I'm going to read a book entitled Bye Bye Balham, which I may read sitting on the toilet just to celebrate this list.
***I know I should be talking about Obama, Tony Hart, Patrick McGoohan and other things that matter, but I'd be a bit "what they said" which makes for unnecessity. So all noted, all thought about, words not forthcoming through no fault of their own.***
I didn't realise how damned lovely it was to have the full use of a toilet in one's house until I spent nearly 24 hours with a useless toilet and a bucket to flush with. A new toilet was installed today and oh boy is it nice to have. Sadly it took them rather too many hours with the water off and by the end I was in desperate need of a coffee and a pee. I was not amused by the suggestion that I could in fact solve both requirements in one unpleasant go.
2) Richard Herring
I'm not bonkers. Or I'm no more bonkers than he is anyway, which is *distinctly* unbonkersy. He got an iPhone and he gets it! He does! He realises the love! Read here to see that I am not alone in my belovedness of the bestest ever gadgetry.
He blogged about sleep one time at virtually the exact same moment I did. And he pondered about getting old the day after my birthday. So to show my utmost respect for things that are most definitely not complete coincidence, I'm putting him second to a toilet in a list of meaninglessness.
3) Books
I have read 3 books in a little over a week. Oh yes. Finished completely. Three separate books. All chick lit, all from the charts in Tesco. I've started another 3 but they went the way of most books (into the later pile) on account of needing a brain. No offence to any of the books I did read, but sometimes (the week after exams) you really need to switch off and into easy reading. Three different books, but strangely all came down to the same point: appreciate what you've got.
So I have been. For all that is crap, if I changed anything at all in my past, I might not be here now with two amazing children and I wouldn't change them for any of the things I think I need.
And now I'm going to read a book entitled Bye Bye Balham, which I may read sitting on the toilet just to celebrate this list.
***I know I should be talking about Obama, Tony Hart, Patrick McGoohan and other things that matter, but I'd be a bit "what they said" which makes for unnecessity. So all noted, all thought about, words not forthcoming through no fault of their own.***
Monday, 6 October 2008
Sucking up
I am such a suck ass. I am also perpetually curious and easily impressed, as well as having a need to be able to build models of things like the Great Wall of China out of my book collection.
I just made the following order from Amazon:
Delivery estimate: 14 Oct 2008 - 20 Oct 2008
Dispatch estimate for these items: 9 Oct 2008
1 "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now: My Difficult Student 80s"
Andrew Collins
1 "That's Me in the Corner: Adventures of an Ordinary Boy in a Celebrity World"
Andrew Collins
1 "Corned Beef Sandwich"
Mark Sullivan
1 "Where Did It All Go Right?: Growing Up Normal In the 70s"
Andrew Collins
There is no point in crawling if I don't publicise it. By 2014 I hope to have read at least one of these.
I just made the following order from Amazon:
Delivery estimate: 14 Oct 2008 - 20 Oct 2008
Dispatch estimate for these items: 9 Oct 2008
1 "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now: My Difficult Student 80s"
Andrew Collins
1 "That's Me in the Corner: Adventures of an Ordinary Boy in a Celebrity World"
Andrew Collins
1 "Corned Beef Sandwich"
Mark Sullivan
1 "Where Did It All Go Right?: Growing Up Normal In the 70s"
Andrew Collins
There is no point in crawling if I don't publicise it. By 2014 I hope to have read at least one of these.
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
All fixed
Well, I had my telephone interview and I didn't succeed. I was momentarily upset, then massively relieved. Apparently in the past year I have learned to talk and am no longer monotonous and negative, I just didn't access the deepest recesses of my brain for my stock competency based interview answers. I expect this is a LOT to do with the fact that my brain was screaming "no! no! It's £12k a year pro rata for working 2 12 hour shifts each and every weekend!"
Please take on weekend staff, Waterstones, I'm ever so good with books*. I'm going to get tarted up (which these days means "look human" rather than what it used to mean) and go and see if they're advertising for Christmas staff yet. Maybe the library are just taking ages to get back about their Saturday job. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
*Good with books? Is that possible? Books tend to be pretty compliant, on account of their very book-ness.
"Please detail a time when you had to deal with a particularly difficult book."
This is very tedious and personal at the moment, it's all about me (as not quite sung by McFly). It's my blog and I'll blather on about my boring life if I want to, blather on about my boring life if I want to. You would blather on about your boring life too if it happened to you.
(I think I'm seeing why the word "cry" was used by Lesley Gore, which I REMEMBERED without Googlage, although I did Google to check. It's a bit catchier).
Not about me: Andrew Collins blogged again, he's un-upset. I'm pleased. Despite better informed opinions to the contrary, I think he deserves much un-upsetness.
Please take on weekend staff, Waterstones, I'm ever so good with books*. I'm going to get tarted up (which these days means "look human" rather than what it used to mean) and go and see if they're advertising for Christmas staff yet. Maybe the library are just taking ages to get back about their Saturday job. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
*Good with books? Is that possible? Books tend to be pretty compliant, on account of their very book-ness.
"Please detail a time when you had to deal with a particularly difficult book."
This is very tedious and personal at the moment, it's all about me (as not quite sung by McFly). It's my blog and I'll blather on about my boring life if I want to, blather on about my boring life if I want to. You would blather on about your boring life too if it happened to you.
(I think I'm seeing why the word "cry" was used by Lesley Gore, which I REMEMBERED without Googlage, although I did Google to check. It's a bit catchier).
Not about me: Andrew Collins blogged again, he's un-upset. I'm pleased. Despite better informed opinions to the contrary, I think he deserves much un-upsetness.
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
My life in books
I was reading a magazine (don't ask which one, it was more than an hour ago) and it was interviewing some celebrity (again, don't ask who) about books. They stated the books that had meant a lot to them over the years, so I started thinking about the books I have loved. I pinched the title "my life in books" from that article by the way, it's not remotely a reflection of my life. But onward...
The first book I remember loving was "A Child's Garden of Verse" by Robert Louis Stevenson. I was hugely into this at about the age of 5, providing huge amusement to my parents by referring to the author's middle name as "Louise". I think I liked this because it referred to his childhood in Edinburgh, like mine. My most favourite poem from that was The Lamplighter:
The first book I remember loving was "A Child's Garden of Verse" by Robert Louis Stevenson. I was hugely into this at about the age of 5, providing huge amusement to my parents by referring to the author's middle name as "Louise". I think I liked this because it referred to his childhood in Edinburgh, like mine. My most favourite poem from that was The Lamplighter:
My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky.
It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
For every night at teatime and before you take your seat,
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.
Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be;
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I'm to do,
O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you!
For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
And oh! before you hurry by with ladder and with light;
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!
A little older and I read "101 Dalmations" by Dodie Smith. I loved this book so much, thankfully nobody subjected me to the Disney travesty by the same name (Perdita's the liver spotted stray, her name means "lost"; the female protagonist is called Missus;). This is just an utterly beautiful book, I read it and read it and read it. Some years later I discovered "The Starlight Barking" which is the sequel to this, also lovely.
My mother was keen to introduce me to the books she'd enjoyed as a child and so she bought me Anne of Green Gables which I adored and read all of the sequels (which did get progressively less good, but never mind). A girl with an imagination even more vivid than my own! And of course I read Little Women, which remains one of my favourite books of all time. I cried when Beth died, I so wanted Jo to fall in love with Laurie, I wanted to be Amy. The sequels to this did match up to the original and even the Hollywood Winona Rider effort was fitting (except Clare Danes was dreadful as Beth).
From here I forget the chronological order of everything...
Pride and Prejudice gained me a B for Higher English. I read this of my own accord (I hated the dissection by English classes) and having been completely traumatised by the lack of poetry and presence of a Macbeth question in Paper I, I was overjoyed to have a question that could be perfectly answered about Pride and Prejudice in Paper II. It thus holds a special place for me, as well as the fact that I'd really like to be Elizabeth Bennett (although I think Darcy could do with a little more spark).
When Andrew Lloyd Webber did The Phantom of the Opera, I fell totally in love with all of it - Michael Crawford and all. I'm not big on musicals, but I love all the music from this. I listened to the vinyl of the entire recording incessantly and finally a couple of years ago managed to get a CD of the original cast. Aside from the music though, this is a lovely story, so when I saw the book by Gaston Leroux I was intrigued to read it. It is a fabulous book, it is written as a piece of investigative journalism and even though I knew the story from the musical, I was hooked. The film, although good, is based on the musical rather than the book, the script appears to be the same. Gerard Butler as the Phantom comes pretty damned close to fantasy.
Having always loved Christmas and also the Muppets' Christmas Carol, I am not sure why I never thought to read the Christmas Books by Charles Dickens until a few years ago. Still, I did and they are/it is fabulous. Dickens writes superbly, he really does make you feel like you have seen what he describes.
Now, I don't have any aversion whatsoever to Chick Lit, it's mindless escapism and a very easy way to spend time and lose yourself in a story, even if real life doesn't ever emulate it in its annoying tendency to be real. Rachel's Holiday by Marian Keyes, anything by Freya North and the utterly silly and adorable Shopaholic series by Sophie Kinsella are my favourites. The Old Girl Network by Catherine Alliott is the book I'd have written if I had the talent/inclination/timing.
I read a lot of self help books, especially ones that promise to fix things that I really ought to be able to fix myself without reading a book. Most of them I discard in disdain, most of them are useless, but at a particularly low point, I read Fiona Harrold's "Be Your Own Life Coach" (I know... I have lots of "Be Your Own X" and "Change Y in Z days", I believe in miracles) and it really did somehow hit the right spot. Almost overnight I was able to change my views on many things and it literally did cure a bout of near-depression.
Finally, I must include Jasper Fforde. I don't mean a specific book, the first one I read was the first Nursery Crime one, The Big Over Easy, but all of his books are in a similar vein and they are clever without being taxing for a poor child frazzled brain. The Thursday Next series are all fabulous and everyone should read them. Immediately.
My mother was keen to introduce me to the books she'd enjoyed as a child and so she bought me Anne of Green Gables which I adored and read all of the sequels (which did get progressively less good, but never mind). A girl with an imagination even more vivid than my own! And of course I read Little Women, which remains one of my favourite books of all time. I cried when Beth died, I so wanted Jo to fall in love with Laurie, I wanted to be Amy. The sequels to this did match up to the original and even the Hollywood Winona Rider effort was fitting (except Clare Danes was dreadful as Beth).
From here I forget the chronological order of everything...
Pride and Prejudice gained me a B for Higher English. I read this of my own accord (I hated the dissection by English classes) and having been completely traumatised by the lack of poetry and presence of a Macbeth question in Paper I, I was overjoyed to have a question that could be perfectly answered about Pride and Prejudice in Paper II. It thus holds a special place for me, as well as the fact that I'd really like to be Elizabeth Bennett (although I think Darcy could do with a little more spark).
When Andrew Lloyd Webber did The Phantom of the Opera, I fell totally in love with all of it - Michael Crawford and all. I'm not big on musicals, but I love all the music from this. I listened to the vinyl of the entire recording incessantly and finally a couple of years ago managed to get a CD of the original cast. Aside from the music though, this is a lovely story, so when I saw the book by Gaston Leroux I was intrigued to read it. It is a fabulous book, it is written as a piece of investigative journalism and even though I knew the story from the musical, I was hooked. The film, although good, is based on the musical rather than the book, the script appears to be the same. Gerard Butler as the Phantom comes pretty damned close to fantasy.
Having always loved Christmas and also the Muppets' Christmas Carol, I am not sure why I never thought to read the Christmas Books by Charles Dickens until a few years ago. Still, I did and they are/it is fabulous. Dickens writes superbly, he really does make you feel like you have seen what he describes.
Now, I don't have any aversion whatsoever to Chick Lit, it's mindless escapism and a very easy way to spend time and lose yourself in a story, even if real life doesn't ever emulate it in its annoying tendency to be real. Rachel's Holiday by Marian Keyes, anything by Freya North and the utterly silly and adorable Shopaholic series by Sophie Kinsella are my favourites. The Old Girl Network by Catherine Alliott is the book I'd have written if I had the talent/inclination/timing.
I read a lot of self help books, especially ones that promise to fix things that I really ought to be able to fix myself without reading a book. Most of them I discard in disdain, most of them are useless, but at a particularly low point, I read Fiona Harrold's "Be Your Own Life Coach" (I know... I have lots of "Be Your Own X" and "Change Y in Z days", I believe in miracles) and it really did somehow hit the right spot. Almost overnight I was able to change my views on many things and it literally did cure a bout of near-depression.
Finally, I must include Jasper Fforde. I don't mean a specific book, the first one I read was the first Nursery Crime one, The Big Over Easy, but all of his books are in a similar vein and they are clever without being taxing for a poor child frazzled brain. The Thursday Next series are all fabulous and everyone should read them. Immediately.
Saturday, 30 June 2007
Favourites
I seem to have an addiction to these quizzes you get on myspace etc and many of them seem to ask the same questions. The ones that remain on my mind refer to favourites: favourite film, favourite book, favourite TV programme and so on. I don't have an answer to these, I really don't. I wish I did.
Film...
Now, I haven't seen a LOT of films, but I tend not to like films. I'm not sure what it is that I do like about films, but there are so many I don't like that I'm "supposed" to. I don't get Woody Allen, I simply can't watch him, and I watched Match Point, thinking that maybe I'd get it if I didn't have to actually watch him on screen. Nope, didn't like it at all. I finally saw Citizen Kane, didn't care for that much either.
The film that had the biggest effect on me when I saw it at the cinema would be Twelve Monkeys. We went to that during the day and came out into daylight and somehow everything seemed weird, as if you couldn't trust anything to be as it seemed. Which is strange because that's not what the film's about. Film that I most loved at the time and watched most times would be Pretty Woman, because I was 15 when it came out and it really is what every girl dreams of... But that's not a "good" film.
The Usual Suspects is fabulous; I adore that and it is one film I wish I hadn't seen just so I could see it for the first time. Shrek always makes me smile, it's got so much in it to smile over. Shrek would be the film I chose if I had to pick just one, but it isn't my favourite film ever.
I have a favourite director: Luc Besson and maybe I'd have to take Leon or The Big Blue as a favourite. Too hard. Can't pick favourite actor, Steve McQueen was the coolest though.
Book...
This is even worse. I really don't like any of the books that people go on and on about. I tried to read Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Memoirs of a Geisha, Birdsong, The Time Traveler's Wife (which I itch to correct the spelling of...) along with many other highly regarded books, and although I have finished some, I didn't enjoy them much. I am currently reading The Secret History which every single person on the planet thinks is wonderful and, so far, I can't be bothered continuing past page 48.
I can't wait for the last Harry Potter to come out, I have enjoyed all of those so far. I also loved The Da Vinci Code. So it's not that I have the sort of brain that doesn't "do" fiction, I can read and enjoy things that are quite definitely fiction, and not very well written fiction at that.
I liked Pride and Prejudice mostly because I studied it at school and managed not to be put off by the in depth analysis. Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux and The Christmas Books by Charles Dickens are two of my favourite books, they are both superbly written and thoroughly enjoyable despite both being extremely well known and much dramatised.
I love the Magical Maze by Ian Stewart - about mathematics - and Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss - about punctuation. If I could only take one book off on a desert island, I think it would probably be Ian Stewart's... which is a bit sad. That's not my favourite book either, I immediately feel bereft at the thought of not having the others.
My favourite author is Jasper Fforde because he's bonkers and shares my birthday.
TV programme...
Now, based on most effort put into watching and anticipating and guttedness that it ended, that would be Friends. But that's mindless comedy... The funniest thing ever on TV was Fawlty Towers, closely followed by a number of other comedies: Blackadder, Alan Partridge, Bottom, Father Ted, Black Books. I adored Ally McBeal, I fall over myself to watch Top Gear, I sit on the edge of my seat throughout 24 and I really enjoyed Life on Mars (apart from the TERRIBLE ending - but I'm not sure what would have pleased me). Picking just one? It would have to be Fawlty Towers - the same age as me.
Album...
I don't have a favourite album. I don't. I have a favourite song - it is Hallelujah by John Cale - but I simply don't have a favourite album. I never listen to them, I have been making compilations since I got my first tape deck. If I was forced to choose one, it would be The Velvet Underground and Nico, People Move On by Bernard Butler, Ladies and Gentlemen we are Floating in Space by Spiritualized or The Division Bell by Pink Floyd. (I think, I change my mind sometimes) But none of those have Hallelujah on it and I couldn't have I'm Your Fan as The One, so I need my compilations.
Why aren't there easier questions? I have many things I know for sure what my favourites are:
coffee: java
tea: chai
soft drink: Coke
freshly made juice: carrot, apple and ginger
wine: M & S Oudinot Champagne (cuvee, medium dry)
red wine: Georges Duboeuf Fleurie
liqueur: Drambuie
beer: if I must, Hoegaarden
cider: Addlestones
day: Thursday
bit of road: Junction 2a on the M90
artist: Claude Monet
place: the rock garden, Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh
shop: Valvona and Crolla, Edinburgh
perfume: Chanel Coco
aftershave: Higher Energy by Dior
bread: ptira
ice cream: pistachio from B. Valletta in St Andrews
property on Monopoly: Oxford St
board game: Trivial Pursuit
card game: Aces to Kings
seat on the train: on the left, the third one in, window seat, front carriage
boss: Mark
museum: Musee d'Orsay, Paris
shoes: black wedge mules from Clarks
boots: brown suede knee highs
city: Paris
country: Italy
continent: Europe
language: French
accent: Australian
instrument: bass guitar
means of communication: text message
winter sport: skiing
console game(s): Super Mario...
I just need different questions.
Film...
Now, I haven't seen a LOT of films, but I tend not to like films. I'm not sure what it is that I do like about films, but there are so many I don't like that I'm "supposed" to. I don't get Woody Allen, I simply can't watch him, and I watched Match Point, thinking that maybe I'd get it if I didn't have to actually watch him on screen. Nope, didn't like it at all. I finally saw Citizen Kane, didn't care for that much either.
The film that had the biggest effect on me when I saw it at the cinema would be Twelve Monkeys. We went to that during the day and came out into daylight and somehow everything seemed weird, as if you couldn't trust anything to be as it seemed. Which is strange because that's not what the film's about. Film that I most loved at the time and watched most times would be Pretty Woman, because I was 15 when it came out and it really is what every girl dreams of... But that's not a "good" film.
The Usual Suspects is fabulous; I adore that and it is one film I wish I hadn't seen just so I could see it for the first time. Shrek always makes me smile, it's got so much in it to smile over. Shrek would be the film I chose if I had to pick just one, but it isn't my favourite film ever.
I have a favourite director: Luc Besson and maybe I'd have to take Leon or The Big Blue as a favourite. Too hard. Can't pick favourite actor, Steve McQueen was the coolest though.
Book...
This is even worse. I really don't like any of the books that people go on and on about. I tried to read Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Memoirs of a Geisha, Birdsong, The Time Traveler's Wife (which I itch to correct the spelling of...) along with many other highly regarded books, and although I have finished some, I didn't enjoy them much. I am currently reading The Secret History which every single person on the planet thinks is wonderful and, so far, I can't be bothered continuing past page 48.
I can't wait for the last Harry Potter to come out, I have enjoyed all of those so far. I also loved The Da Vinci Code. So it's not that I have the sort of brain that doesn't "do" fiction, I can read and enjoy things that are quite definitely fiction, and not very well written fiction at that.
I liked Pride and Prejudice mostly because I studied it at school and managed not to be put off by the in depth analysis. Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux and The Christmas Books by Charles Dickens are two of my favourite books, they are both superbly written and thoroughly enjoyable despite both being extremely well known and much dramatised.
I love the Magical Maze by Ian Stewart - about mathematics - and Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss - about punctuation. If I could only take one book off on a desert island, I think it would probably be Ian Stewart's... which is a bit sad. That's not my favourite book either, I immediately feel bereft at the thought of not having the others.
My favourite author is Jasper Fforde because he's bonkers and shares my birthday.
TV programme...
Now, based on most effort put into watching and anticipating and guttedness that it ended, that would be Friends. But that's mindless comedy... The funniest thing ever on TV was Fawlty Towers, closely followed by a number of other comedies: Blackadder, Alan Partridge, Bottom, Father Ted, Black Books. I adored Ally McBeal, I fall over myself to watch Top Gear, I sit on the edge of my seat throughout 24 and I really enjoyed Life on Mars (apart from the TERRIBLE ending - but I'm not sure what would have pleased me). Picking just one? It would have to be Fawlty Towers - the same age as me.
Album...
I don't have a favourite album. I don't. I have a favourite song - it is Hallelujah by John Cale - but I simply don't have a favourite album. I never listen to them, I have been making compilations since I got my first tape deck. If I was forced to choose one, it would be The Velvet Underground and Nico, People Move On by Bernard Butler, Ladies and Gentlemen we are Floating in Space by Spiritualized or The Division Bell by Pink Floyd. (I think, I change my mind sometimes) But none of those have Hallelujah on it and I couldn't have I'm Your Fan as The One, so I need my compilations.
Why aren't there easier questions? I have many things I know for sure what my favourites are:
coffee: java
tea: chai
soft drink: Coke
freshly made juice: carrot, apple and ginger
wine: M & S Oudinot Champagne (cuvee, medium dry)
red wine: Georges Duboeuf Fleurie
liqueur: Drambuie
beer: if I must, Hoegaarden
cider: Addlestones
day: Thursday
bit of road: Junction 2a on the M90
artist: Claude Monet
place: the rock garden, Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh
shop: Valvona and Crolla, Edinburgh
perfume: Chanel Coco
aftershave: Higher Energy by Dior
bread: ptira
ice cream: pistachio from B. Valletta in St Andrews
property on Monopoly: Oxford St
board game: Trivial Pursuit
card game: Aces to Kings
seat on the train: on the left, the third one in, window seat, front carriage
boss: Mark
museum: Musee d'Orsay, Paris
shoes: black wedge mules from Clarks
boots: brown suede knee highs
city: Paris
country: Italy
continent: Europe
language: French
accent: Australian
instrument: bass guitar
means of communication: text message
winter sport: skiing
console game(s): Super Mario...
I just need different questions.
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