Books by and about being English
Through a completely random coincidence, I just finished 4 books in a row by Englishmen. With Ben Aaronovitch's latest "Rivers of London" book, Foxglove Summer, and the new Nick Hornby, Funny Girl, inhaled is a better word to use: I finished both within 20 hours of acquiring them. oops. (Have I mentioned lately how much I like receiving brand new books from the library? Of all the things my tax dollars do, this probably makes me the happiest.)
The book before Foxglove Summer ends with a cliffhanger that isn't resolved in the new book. I'm really glad I read the Amazon reviews before, so I could focus on the story: they appropriately lowered my expectations. The whole series has been my replacement for the Harry Dresden books: supernatural crime-solving with a well-meaning, but somewhat dim hero. The protagonist is a modern bobby and the books contain a lot of details about modern London, which I rather like. The villains aren't very surprising, although like many of Aaronovitch's villains, they are a little different than other media have portrayed them, and the ending is a little rushed, but all in all, it's enjoyable.
I didn't even know Nick Hornby had a new book out until I saw an ad on Amazon. I gobbled it up and enjoyed it, because it's Nick Hornby. He has some lovely turns of phrase and Jon spent a lovely brunch discussing Nick Hornby vs. James Lileks: their use of language appeals to me in the same way, but one has multiple movies while the other pimps himself out for National Review cruises. (I've been thinking about writers' situations/friendships/contexts since reading this article.) I found the book a little thin though and went to Amazon to see if others felt the same way. One reviewer described it as being the product of someone who's been hanging out in Hollywood too much, with the action being described cinematically, instead of shown, and I'm afraid he's right.
My ladylove lent me Michael Marmot's Status Syndrome after a long discussion about it. The book seemed terribly repetitive and I was all set to return it unfinished when I read the last chapter and found myself curious what lay in between. The author did a study of British civil servants and found that seniority had huge health benefits to the individual, because it provides more control over your work/life and opportunities for social interaction. It's one of the more interesting books I've read in a while, if depressing.
I've wanted to read more Orwell ever since egofood mentioned "Politics and the English Language", but so many of his longer works seem to be about boring topics and I could never decide which collection of essays to read. In retrospect, I can't believe I didn't read Homage to Catalonia sooner, given that I've wondered for some time who one was supposed to root for in the Spanish Civil War. The book is delicious, with very sturdy prose about what it's like to be a infantryman, and not only do I understand why every side was wrong in the Spanish Civil War, but I understand where Animal Farm came from. Orwell explains the appeals of anarchism and communism far better than Tony Judt ever did in Thinking the Twentieth Century. I never reviewed the latter book apparently: suffice it to say, I interrupted long runs to call Julian to complain about how annoying the book is. Anyhow, if I'd had Orwell's experiences, I'd have a huge hate-on for the Soviet Union too.
The book before Foxglove Summer ends with a cliffhanger that isn't resolved in the new book. I'm really glad I read the Amazon reviews before, so I could focus on the story: they appropriately lowered my expectations. The whole series has been my replacement for the Harry Dresden books: supernatural crime-solving with a well-meaning, but somewhat dim hero. The protagonist is a modern bobby and the books contain a lot of details about modern London, which I rather like. The villains aren't very surprising, although like many of Aaronovitch's villains, they are a little different than other media have portrayed them, and the ending is a little rushed, but all in all, it's enjoyable.
I didn't even know Nick Hornby had a new book out until I saw an ad on Amazon. I gobbled it up and enjoyed it, because it's Nick Hornby. He has some lovely turns of phrase and Jon spent a lovely brunch discussing Nick Hornby vs. James Lileks: their use of language appeals to me in the same way, but one has multiple movies while the other pimps himself out for National Review cruises. (I've been thinking about writers' situations/friendships/contexts since reading this article.) I found the book a little thin though and went to Amazon to see if others felt the same way. One reviewer described it as being the product of someone who's been hanging out in Hollywood too much, with the action being described cinematically, instead of shown, and I'm afraid he's right.
My ladylove lent me Michael Marmot's Status Syndrome after a long discussion about it. The book seemed terribly repetitive and I was all set to return it unfinished when I read the last chapter and found myself curious what lay in between. The author did a study of British civil servants and found that seniority had huge health benefits to the individual, because it provides more control over your work/life and opportunities for social interaction. It's one of the more interesting books I've read in a while, if depressing.
I've wanted to read more Orwell ever since egofood mentioned "Politics and the English Language", but so many of his longer works seem to be about boring topics and I could never decide which collection of essays to read. In retrospect, I can't believe I didn't read Homage to Catalonia sooner, given that I've wondered for some time who one was supposed to root for in the Spanish Civil War. The book is delicious, with very sturdy prose about what it's like to be a infantryman, and not only do I understand why every side was wrong in the Spanish Civil War, but I understand where Animal Farm came from. Orwell explains the appeals of anarchism and communism far better than Tony Judt ever did in Thinking the Twentieth Century. I never reviewed the latter book apparently: suffice it to say, I interrupted long runs to call Julian to complain about how annoying the book is. Anyhow, if I'd had Orwell's experiences, I'd have a huge hate-on for the Soviet Union too.