BOOKS 2011: November
I've struggled to churn this out so you're kidding if you think I'm going to do the film review thing too. So lazy :(
1. Life: An Unauthorised Biography - Richard Fortey
(416 pages)
This is a great little pop science book. Really well written and pacey, it manages to fit the entire history of life into what is a handful of pages without being shallow. The autobiographical accounts could easily be irritating but came across (to me, at least) as charming and interesting. This is not a book for experts; rather, interested layman like myself who want a brief introduction before sticking our noses into something a bit more specific and thorough seem the audience. Recommended for those interested where they and all of life came from.
2. Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator - Roald Dahl
(208 pages)
I remember being quite disinterested in this one as a kid - I think I might have stopped reading it -, and that disinterest has passed on into adulthood. I don't like criticising Dahl but this is a rubbish book. I'm hesitant to say it is a cheap money-making ploy but that is certainly how it feels. Some funny moments but mostly slap-dash and nonsensical, and in fact downright irritating in places. A rare weak spot in what is otherwise an illustrious career.
3. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain
(240 pages)
One of my occasional stabs at "a proper classic". I like this one. It has the perfect boy's voice: Twain remembers how it is to be a child very well. I'm sure that there is a lot more to say about this novel but I'm not going to. That's for all those American students; I, on the other hand, read for pleasure and write out of self-indulgence and competition.
4. Going Solo - Roald Dahl
(224 pages)
Aside from the occasional awkward Colonial Racism Moment this is an interesting book about an interesting period in the life of a very interesting man. There are exaggerations (black mambas do not slither at the speed of a galloping horse: they have no legs, though they certainly do strike very quickly) but these do not spoil what is a really rollicking autobiography.
5. The Dead-Tossed Waves - Carrie Ryan
(416 pages)
So I read The Forest of Hands and Teeth back in April and described it as
"...a boring derivative with nothing new to say, every character a bland stereotype [...], every line of dialogue uttered a million times before in cliché." This book is exactly the same. Why I picked it up I don't know, I had already been warned, but something about the title is evocative. Shame that is the only part of it at all inspired; the rest is a boring little miseryfest about a dull whinging little coward who - once again! - manages to make two boys fall in love with her through the sheer power of her unrelenting mundanity. I am fucking bored of these books and bored of this writer and she needs to stop inflicting her insipid little fantasies on teenagers because they deserve better.
6. Fantastic Mr Fox - Roald Dahl
(96 pages)
This was always my favourite Dahl because it was about a fox and I loved foxes and books about foxes. Even now it gives me a warm glow inside, like eating a very good meal, except now I have the added satisfaction of being about to go out and have some cider afterwards, which I desperately wanted but was never allowed to when I was seven. A Sam Smith's Organic, I think.
7. One Day - David Nicholls
(448 pages)
I just didn't get this. People bang on that it is exquisite, that it is wonderful, that it is terribly funny and clever, some even that it is life-changing. I... thought it was okay. Seriously not getting the fuss. I liked bits in a vagueish "this is sort of enjoyable" way but it never grabbed me by the ovaries. The ending could be seen a mile off and when it did my thoughts were "I knew that would happen, exactly like that" rather than this earth-shattering bullshit that pushed other readers to tears or rage. I'm supposed to come away feeling that these people are closer than my most intimate friends, but what I came away with was I'd never get that close to a person like Dexter because he was a right fucking tool (and, in fairness, the book thought so too). Some of the observations were quite witty but none were new, none particularly made me think because I've had those thoughts myself, or read them elsewhere. So it was okay.
8. Danny the Champion of the World - Roald Dahl
(240 pages)
This is Dahl's most touching children's book, I think. A perfectly lovely story about a father-son relationship,
9. The Book of Human Skin - Michelle Lovric
(512 pages)
I was very wary about starting this book. The large cast of narrators, plus its historical Venetian/Peruvian setting, was an intimidating prospect for someone who can't remember characters and particularly struggles with non-Anglo names. But this was great fun. The character voices were so definitive that regardless of my memory difficulties I never struggled to identify who was who. The story is at points disgusting but never mires itself in misery; rather, a certain tongue-in-cheek slyness pervades every page. My favourite narrator was by far the nun, whose appalling holy crusade was an absolute treat to read. My only real complaint about this book was the ending, which I felt could have been a bit more dramatic and satisfying. Other than that this was a fun if not particularly light read, and the discussion of the historical background was really interesting.
10. The BFG - Roald Dahl
(224 pages)
I have such fond memories of this book. Little bright child's memories, fragments of the story, that glitter like revolting jewels: the whizzpopping, the dreamcatching, the names of the giants and how they described the flavours of different nationalities of children. My infant school teacher, Mrs Bird, who suited her name because she was a beady-eyed, beaky old crow, described this book as "revolting" when I suggested it as our reading time story, and refused to read it. Happy memories.
11. White is for Witching - Helen Oyeyemi
(192 pages)
Beautifully written but very, very boring.
12. The Witches - Roald Dahl
(224 pages)
And I end the Dahl on a high note, and what a joy it has been. This book and others like it are the sort that make you want to have children just so you can pass on that joy. I feel like I've said that before, but it bears repetition because it is no less true.
13. Generation Dead - Daniel Waters
(320 pages)
I knew this was going to be crap. It was also dull. Another dull supernatural romance book. Why do these things sell so well when they are so very very boring? I couldn't even work up a passionate hatred for this, which might at least have made it fun to review: it was never silly enough, or awful enough, just kind of passable, uninspired prose and lacklustre plot and far, far too much about American football. About the most irritating thing was a habit of mixing up the human iris with the human retina, a very silly mistake that should have been caught at editing, presuming this book underwent that procedure. Instantly forgettable.
14. A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
(176 pages)
...And an instantly forgettable book is followed immediately by one of the most memorable. I love this book. I've read it, if not countless times, then enough that I can remember the passages that most stick in my mind. A glorious celebration of the spoken word, this seems at first a chore but within a few pages you are sucked in, a sort of language instinct taking over and you're fluent in something you never even knew existed. Beautiful and harrowing and funny and clever, this is about as perfect as books come.
Total books so far: 138
Total pages so far: 45,367
1. Life: An Unauthorised Biography - Richard Fortey
(416 pages)
This is a great little pop science book. Really well written and pacey, it manages to fit the entire history of life into what is a handful of pages without being shallow. The autobiographical accounts could easily be irritating but came across (to me, at least) as charming and interesting. This is not a book for experts; rather, interested layman like myself who want a brief introduction before sticking our noses into something a bit more specific and thorough seem the audience. Recommended for those interested where they and all of life came from.
2. Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator - Roald Dahl
(208 pages)
I remember being quite disinterested in this one as a kid - I think I might have stopped reading it -, and that disinterest has passed on into adulthood. I don't like criticising Dahl but this is a rubbish book. I'm hesitant to say it is a cheap money-making ploy but that is certainly how it feels. Some funny moments but mostly slap-dash and nonsensical, and in fact downright irritating in places. A rare weak spot in what is otherwise an illustrious career.
3. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain
(240 pages)
One of my occasional stabs at "a proper classic". I like this one. It has the perfect boy's voice: Twain remembers how it is to be a child very well. I'm sure that there is a lot more to say about this novel but I'm not going to. That's for all those American students; I, on the other hand, read for pleasure and write out of self-indulgence and competition.
4. Going Solo - Roald Dahl
(224 pages)
Aside from the occasional awkward Colonial Racism Moment this is an interesting book about an interesting period in the life of a very interesting man. There are exaggerations (black mambas do not slither at the speed of a galloping horse: they have no legs, though they certainly do strike very quickly) but these do not spoil what is a really rollicking autobiography.
5. The Dead-Tossed Waves - Carrie Ryan
(416 pages)
So I read The Forest of Hands and Teeth back in April and described it as
"...a boring derivative with nothing new to say, every character a bland stereotype [...], every line of dialogue uttered a million times before in cliché." This book is exactly the same. Why I picked it up I don't know, I had already been warned, but something about the title is evocative. Shame that is the only part of it at all inspired; the rest is a boring little miseryfest about a dull whinging little coward who - once again! - manages to make two boys fall in love with her through the sheer power of her unrelenting mundanity. I am fucking bored of these books and bored of this writer and she needs to stop inflicting her insipid little fantasies on teenagers because they deserve better.
6. Fantastic Mr Fox - Roald Dahl
(96 pages)
This was always my favourite Dahl because it was about a fox and I loved foxes and books about foxes. Even now it gives me a warm glow inside, like eating a very good meal, except now I have the added satisfaction of being about to go out and have some cider afterwards, which I desperately wanted but was never allowed to when I was seven. A Sam Smith's Organic, I think.
7. One Day - David Nicholls
(448 pages)
I just didn't get this. People bang on that it is exquisite, that it is wonderful, that it is terribly funny and clever, some even that it is life-changing. I... thought it was okay. Seriously not getting the fuss. I liked bits in a vagueish "this is sort of enjoyable" way but it never grabbed me by the ovaries. The ending could be seen a mile off and when it did my thoughts were "I knew that would happen, exactly like that" rather than this earth-shattering bullshit that pushed other readers to tears or rage. I'm supposed to come away feeling that these people are closer than my most intimate friends, but what I came away with was I'd never get that close to a person like Dexter because he was a right fucking tool (and, in fairness, the book thought so too). Some of the observations were quite witty but none were new, none particularly made me think because I've had those thoughts myself, or read them elsewhere. So it was okay.
8. Danny the Champion of the World - Roald Dahl
(240 pages)
This is Dahl's most touching children's book, I think. A perfectly lovely story about a father-son relationship,
9. The Book of Human Skin - Michelle Lovric
(512 pages)
I was very wary about starting this book. The large cast of narrators, plus its historical Venetian/Peruvian setting, was an intimidating prospect for someone who can't remember characters and particularly struggles with non-Anglo names. But this was great fun. The character voices were so definitive that regardless of my memory difficulties I never struggled to identify who was who. The story is at points disgusting but never mires itself in misery; rather, a certain tongue-in-cheek slyness pervades every page. My favourite narrator was by far the nun, whose appalling holy crusade was an absolute treat to read. My only real complaint about this book was the ending, which I felt could have been a bit more dramatic and satisfying. Other than that this was a fun if not particularly light read, and the discussion of the historical background was really interesting.
10. The BFG - Roald Dahl
(224 pages)
I have such fond memories of this book. Little bright child's memories, fragments of the story, that glitter like revolting jewels: the whizzpopping, the dreamcatching, the names of the giants and how they described the flavours of different nationalities of children. My infant school teacher, Mrs Bird, who suited her name because she was a beady-eyed, beaky old crow, described this book as "revolting" when I suggested it as our reading time story, and refused to read it. Happy memories.
11. White is for Witching - Helen Oyeyemi
(192 pages)
Beautifully written but very, very boring.
12. The Witches - Roald Dahl
(224 pages)
And I end the Dahl on a high note, and what a joy it has been. This book and others like it are the sort that make you want to have children just so you can pass on that joy. I feel like I've said that before, but it bears repetition because it is no less true.
13. Generation Dead - Daniel Waters
(320 pages)
I knew this was going to be crap. It was also dull. Another dull supernatural romance book. Why do these things sell so well when they are so very very boring? I couldn't even work up a passionate hatred for this, which might at least have made it fun to review: it was never silly enough, or awful enough, just kind of passable, uninspired prose and lacklustre plot and far, far too much about American football. About the most irritating thing was a habit of mixing up the human iris with the human retina, a very silly mistake that should have been caught at editing, presuming this book underwent that procedure. Instantly forgettable.
14. A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
(176 pages)
...And an instantly forgettable book is followed immediately by one of the most memorable. I love this book. I've read it, if not countless times, then enough that I can remember the passages that most stick in my mind. A glorious celebration of the spoken word, this seems at first a chore but within a few pages you are sucked in, a sort of language instinct taking over and you're fluent in something you never even knew existed. Beautiful and harrowing and funny and clever, this is about as perfect as books come.
Total books so far: 138
Total pages so far: 45,367