Some Stupid Book Thing
1. Total Number of Books
No idea. 50, maybe 100 max.
2. The Last Book I bought
Well, it was a three-for-one at Waterstones- The Narrows by Michael Connelly (v. good), The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams (see below for no doubt 'incorrect' opinion), Pompeii by Robert Harris (only read about 30 pages so far).
3. The Last Book I Read
The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy. What a pile of overrated shite. It also had the unfortunate side-effect of making me realise that every single geek I've ever met or read the online witterings of isn't half as original or funny as I gave them credit for. Which is poor when you consider that I didn't give most of them much credit in the first place (present readers excepted, of course). See also: Kevin Smith films and certain members of Film Unit.
4. Five Books that mean a lot to me
1. Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton. Due to obvious interest in the film, this book (and those piss-poor Star Wars expanded universe novels) got me back into reading after a good few years laziness, following the dizzying highs of Superted and Choose Your Own Adventure books. It's still a great story, and I still like Crichton, even though book critics/snobs dislike him for being too good/popular or something.
2. It by Stephen King. Yeah, it's obvious, but it was the first Stephen King book I ever read and is still my favourite. Quite a lot of it reminds me of my own childhood as well- mainly the bits about playing about during long hot summers, building dens etc, that is. To my knowledge, I've never roasted a sexy ginger classmate (has there ever been such a thing?) or defeated an evil being. But maybe those memories are suppressed.
3. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon. I (usually) only ever seem to read books I like, so picking five that 'mean a lot to me' is quite hard. This one is pretty different and pretty ace though. It also reminds me of my mate at work who we reckon is mildly autistic.
4. The Joy of Sex by some perv. This one passed the time when I was on work experience at Rotherham Library. Yes, I worked at a library for three weeks when I was about fifteen- the promise of 'computer-based work' and hot laydeez in cardigans was something I couldn't resist. As it turned out, I spent much of my time sat on a reception desk looking at pencil sketches of some hippy chick sucking cock (the book was an 'under the counter' job [not a euphemism], you see). Incidentally, the version of the book I've linked to apparently does NOT feature the bearded man. Maybe I wouldn't have been so late losing my virginity if I'd known earlier that the beard wasn't mandatory. And I wasn't ugly.
5. The Poet by Michael Connelly. He's probably my favourite author at the minute, and this is one of his best. Plenty of twists and turns, good storytelling blah blah blah. It'd make a top film as well.
5. Tags (Tags? What the fuck am I, a graffiti artist?)
Two of the very few people on my friends list who I notice haven't done it: Bonedancer and Xurble. I don't have many friends.
No idea. 50, maybe 100 max.
2. The Last Book I bought
Well, it was a three-for-one at Waterstones- The Narrows by Michael Connelly (v. good), The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams (see below for no doubt 'incorrect' opinion), Pompeii by Robert Harris (only read about 30 pages so far).
3. The Last Book I Read
The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy. What a pile of overrated shite. It also had the unfortunate side-effect of making me realise that every single geek I've ever met or read the online witterings of isn't half as original or funny as I gave them credit for. Which is poor when you consider that I didn't give most of them much credit in the first place (present readers excepted, of course). See also: Kevin Smith films and certain members of Film Unit.
4. Five Books that mean a lot to me
1. Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton. Due to obvious interest in the film, this book (and those piss-poor Star Wars expanded universe novels) got me back into reading after a good few years laziness, following the dizzying highs of Superted and Choose Your Own Adventure books. It's still a great story, and I still like Crichton, even though book critics/snobs dislike him for being too good/popular or something.
2. It by Stephen King. Yeah, it's obvious, but it was the first Stephen King book I ever read and is still my favourite. Quite a lot of it reminds me of my own childhood as well- mainly the bits about playing about during long hot summers, building dens etc, that is. To my knowledge, I've never roasted a sexy ginger classmate (has there ever been such a thing?) or defeated an evil being. But maybe those memories are suppressed.
3. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon. I (usually) only ever seem to read books I like, so picking five that 'mean a lot to me' is quite hard. This one is pretty different and pretty ace though. It also reminds me of my mate at work who we reckon is mildly autistic.
4. The Joy of Sex by some perv. This one passed the time when I was on work experience at Rotherham Library. Yes, I worked at a library for three weeks when I was about fifteen- the promise of 'computer-based work' and hot laydeez in cardigans was something I couldn't resist. As it turned out, I spent much of my time sat on a reception desk looking at pencil sketches of some hippy chick sucking cock (the book was an 'under the counter' job [not a euphemism], you see). Incidentally, the version of the book I've linked to apparently does NOT feature the bearded man. Maybe I wouldn't have been so late losing my virginity if I'd known earlier that the beard wasn't mandatory. And I wasn't ugly.
5. The Poet by Michael Connelly. He's probably my favourite author at the minute, and this is one of his best. Plenty of twists and turns, good storytelling blah blah blah. It'd make a top film as well.
5. Tags (Tags? What the fuck am I, a graffiti artist?)
Two of the very few people on my friends list who I notice haven't done it: Bonedancer and Xurble. I don't have many friends.