Year: 2010

IT’S NOW OR NEVER by Carole Matthews


As you can see from this little beauty, things were not going well in the finding books to read while camping department. This one I found at one of those book swap things they have at campsites. I think the cover is trying to let me know that this is chick lit.

There are a pair of twin sisters, one trapped in a dull marriage, one in a painful affair with a married man, who decide to change their lives. They are inspired to do so by attending the birthday party of their older and more successful sister. You will not be amazed to learn that they succeed.

It was okay, in sort of a dumb way.

THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATOO by Stieg Larsson


Yes, this is the piece of crap I bought for 12 euros and read in 2 days because I was so desparate for some fiction. The protagonist is a journalist (as the author was) who reads a lot of murder mysteries (as I suspect the author of this murder mystery did) and has lots of beautiful women who want to have sex with him all the time (think not, if his picture on the backflap is anything to go by). I don’t know if you really need to know the plot, as I suspect you already know it, due to it being the plot of all these books. I’ll give you the highlights: loose cannon investigator blah blah serial killer blah blah it gets personal blah blah killer is one you least suspect. So it was pretty blah, BUT immensely page-turning. No denying it. I also enjoyed the way it was so thoroughly set in Sweden, so they were constantly eating foul fish dishes and putting on thick jumpers.

One thing that made me REALLY MAD was the inclusion of an entirely unecessary and very sadistic rape scene. I’ve had this before with other books, where you are reading along quite comfortably, and all of a sudden you are like: ah. I see this book was written by a man. And a certain kind of man, too. I don’t mean he is a sadistic rapist, but rather that he is clearly someone who comfortably participates in that strand of our culture that eroticises female pain. I’m not saying these sorts of scenes are never acceptable: of course they are, if they are central to the plot or important to the book’s theme. But it’s incredible how often they are just sort of chucked in there. And I think the reason they are is that they give the writer, and some of the readers, a distinct thrill. Nice. Really nice.

A brilliant example of this is some stupid book I read, the title of which I can’t remember. It’s set in post Civil War America, which I am sure was a dark time for many people – eg, recently empancipated black people, traumatised white soldiers, etc etc. You’d never know it from this book, which is pretty much one long rape scene, written with precisely detailed excitement. What’s incredible, is that this piece of nonsense won the Pulitzer. Honestly, these people ought to phone their moms to apologize.

THE END OF POVERTY by Jeffery Sachs


My title should perhaps also include: FOREWORD by Bono. Which, based on the cover, the publishers think is apparently as important a feature as the book itself. I didn’t bother with the it, though. Partly on principle. That principle being – Dude: how much contempt do the publishers have for us? They’re all like: these morons will be totally excited by two pages from a celebrity.

Anyway, Jeffery Sachs is a famous economist, who was given tenure at Harvard at 28 (a fact he is not at all embarrassed to highlight for us on about page 3). He believes, or claims to believe for the rhetorical joy of it, that poverty can be ended in our lifetime, and in this book attempts to explain how. Okay, I have to confess, I can’t tell you more about it right now, as I haven’t finished it yet. I took it camping with me, and it was all too much for me. I discovered, to my shame, that apparently I can’t live without fiction. Sweet, sweet, fiction. Which is how I ended up paying 12 euros for a piece of crap, which I did finish, in a shameful two days, which I’ll tell you about next.

ELEGY FOR EASTERLY by Petina Gappah


This collection of short stories won the Guardian First Book Award recently. One can’t help but feel proud of a Zimbabwean girl flying the flag high!

I actually read my first of her stories when it was in the Guardian in 2009. It was set in the Mabelreign OK, which was very weird, as that’s the supermarket that I grew up going to with my parents (every Saturday, without fail, same till, same packing guy, etc, etc, my parents are like that). On a side note, I’ve probably never interacted with a piece of art set specifically somewhere I know in my life before, so that was notable for me. It was a sweet and sad story about a meeting with an old teacher.

I enjoyed the book itself, especially “Something Nice From London”, about trying to get a body back from the UK, and “The Annexe Shuffle” about a UZ student who was briefly interned in a mental institution. I think Ms Gappah’s at her best when she’s writing about middle class life (perhaps because that’s the world she grew up in?) and a bit more unsteady when dealing with people outside that world. The class gap in Zim is truly immense.

I also thought there was something peculiarly and charmingly Zimbabwean about her light-hearted and cheerful handling of the country’s serious problems. I was once told by a theatre’s artistic director (who shall remain nameless) that a Zim project I was working on was ‘too cheerful.’ Apparently, for some, Zimbabwean stories must always be stories of misery. English people can laugh and be silly, but we Africans are all tragic figures apparently.

What nonsense. Zim couldn’t stagger on if Zimbabweans did not have a strange ability to keep their chins up (if only to stop the water closing over their heads . . .)

Petina Gappah’s blog is great too. Here it is.

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR by William Shakespeare


This should maybe read “Merry Wives of Windsor” x 10,0000000. This isbecause this is the show I have been working on. It is a great show, and a very well cut version of the play. Here’s the link if you’re interested.

Now you may have thought by my absense from this blog, I had forgotten about it. Oh no. I have just been camping around Europe, which means I have had a lot of rain and mud and fun, but not very much internet access. It also means that reading material has been thin on the ground, so I have been reading some shocking crap. It’s going to be a new low in 2010’s reading, but the high moral standards of this blog forbid me to leave anything out.

THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS by James Fenimore Cooper


Well, this one is a doozy. I am sorry I could not find you an electronic image of the cover of my edition. It shows the Native American fighting the British guy, and for some reason the wind is blowing up the former’s loin cloth so you can see his butt. Full on, dead centre, a big butt, in the middle of the cover. It is very strange. Very strange. What is that supposed to mean? Borderline gayness combined with borderline racism? Actually, possibly this is also a good strapline for this whole book.

Basically, there are these two British girls and this British guy who is protecting them. They are betrayed by their evil Indian guide(!), Magua. They are then saved by the good Indians(!), a young one (Uncas), his dad, and this other white guy (whose always going on about how he is a man ‘without a cross’) who has been totally absorbed into the Native American lifestyle (thus he has to tell us all the time about his lack of cross). I can see why they made this book into an action movie, because it is just action sequence after action sequence after action sequence, enlivened by a bit of romance and some stupid disguises.

I don’t know which is more racist in its portrayal, the evil Indians or the good Indians. At first I was thinking, wow, way to write to the stereotype; but then I read on the internet that I guess Cooper’s book was actually a huge part of what created the stereotype. Interesting. There’s lots of ‘savage’ this, and ‘uncivilized’ that. But on the other hand, when Uncas dies, his father is mostly comforted by the white guy (WITHOUT a cross, let’s emphasize) who says how they serve the same god and will run on the same paths on the happy hunting grounds, which is sweet. And I guess at the time Cooper wrote it, a lot of people thought he was too kind to the Native Americans, because he often writes in admiration of their fortitude, courage etc etc. So, obviously, let’s not judge him by our standards.

Let’s not even get into the women, because its a close run thing as to whether it’s more sexist than it is racist. And we are not judging him by our standards.

We’re fairly lucky I can even tell you this much about it, as I almost gave up on page 17. This guy is some WORDY. And we know I like wordy, but this was almost too wordy even for me. Check it out: “Receiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal, which, in truth, as it was delivered with the vigour of full and sonorous tones, merited some sort of notice, he who had thus sung forth the language of the holy book, turned to the silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed himself, and found a new and more powerful subject of admiration in the object that encountered his gaze.” Ye gods. I kept going, but I almost gave up again when instead of cooking he referred to “undergoing the culinary process.”

Onwards and upwards. (In which series of childrens books is this an important phrase, at least in the last book? Extra points if you know)

FAST FOOD NATION by Eric Schlosser


After all that 19th century morality I thought it was time for 20th century immorality. FAST FOOD NATION provides that in spades. Spades of offal, eyeballs, fat, salt, animal cruelty and poor working conditions for illegal immigrants.

This book is about the way in which fast food has shaped global culture. He begins by discussing the genesis of fast food as we know it. Apparently, it arose in Southern California, a place built very much around the motor car. There were lots of places selling burgers and so on, but it was all cooked from scratch by experienced cooks, with waitresses on hand. Then the McDonald’s brothers – who were sick of their teenage clientele, apparently, who came mostly for the young pretty waitresses – came up with a new system, based on the production line concept. They cut their menu to only those things that could be eaten without a plate or cultery, and simplifed the food preparation process so that no experience was necessary – each worker just did one simple part of preparation, so experienced short order cooks were no longer necessary. They were thus able to massively cut prices, and business boomed. Apparently this was the first time working class people could afford to eat in a ‘restaurant.’ Other people copied, and the idea spread. The McDonalds – now this is heartening – after they got really really rich, weren’t interested in getting any richer. So they weren’t looking to expand. But this other guy, Ray Kroc, convinced them to let him franchise for them. And that’s the real birth of the chain. He always said he wasn’t in the food business, but in show business – interesting, no? Anyway, he always resented doing what he perceived as all the work, and was eventually delighted to buy them out, and in the end force the closure of their last restaurant (now called M) by opening a McDonald’s up the road.

Interestingly, practically every big fast food chain was started by a high school drop out.

The book also talked about how fast food restaurants market primarily to children, especially toddlers. 25% of Americans eat fast food in any one day, and 90% of American children under 9 visit a McDonalds in any one month. Oh yes. It’s not good news. I in 8 Americans has actually worked for McDonalds at some point.

Also, something I never knew is that fast food in itself is made to be bland, as the flavour actually comes for added chemicals – just a few drops, that are carefully controlled. Most of the flavour in all fast food is made in New Jersey, apparently.

Obviously, the treatment of the animals is not great. But it’s actually getting better. However, the treatment of the people who work in meat packing is APPALING. That was really depressing. Lots of exploiting illegal immigrants etc. The treatment of the kids (the majority of workers are under 19) who work in the restaurants is not brilliant either. McDonalds works hard to fight unions, and sends in crack teams to stop any incipient unionizing. Not a single US restaurant is unionised. WOW.

One interesting thing was how much these big corporations, that drivel on about the free market, and competition, etc etc, are happy to take government handouts. Lots of franchises are begun with money from the fund meant to help small businesses. In fact, big corporations use it when they’re not sure an area can stand another Burger King or whatever, as they know the government will just take the loss. Also, they’ve worked hard to make sure franchisees have none of the normal consumer protections -eg, they corporations can cancel the contract at any time; they can limit who you can sell it too; they can make you use their suppliers, no matter what the cost, etc etc.

And yet, I have to tell you that all this talk about french fries made me want to eat french fires. What does this mean?

THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET by Anthony Trollope


After SMALL HOUSE I decided I just couldn’t face life without Trollope, so the binge contined. This is the last of the series of six Barset novels. Now, I’m kind of sorry the series is over, but let’s face it: this isn’t Austen, who only wrote like 6 books total. This is Trollope, and this guy isn’t kidding. He wrote more words than any other English novellist. After this Barchester series, there’s the Palliser series, which some people tell me are even better, and then tons of individual novels. So I could read like mad without any fear of running out.

I could, but I’m not. I’m taking a break. I’m Trolloped out. All that order, and morality. Anyway, let’s talk about it real quick. This book focuses on a minor character who has appeared in previous books, Mr Crawley. He is a low paid curate with a wife and a ton of children, who he can sometimes barely feed. He cashes a cheque which it later emerges was lost by someone else. Mr Crawley can’t account for how he came by the cheque. Thus, he’s accused of theft (terrible for a clergyman) and has to face the magistrates. He suffers terribly, because he is a intelligent and dedicated man, but so bitter about how unlucky he’s been that he is a tiny bit bonkers. He refuses to take help, of any kind, which is VERY irritating for the reader. He even refuses to have a lawyer. Eventually, we find it was all a mix up and he is innocent. Which means his beautiful but poor daughter can accept her wealthy lover as a husband. (Trollope loves poor girls and rich boys getting together, I’m realising).

The person who reveals the mixup is Johnny, who we’ve met in previous novels. He is in love with Lily Dale, who refuses to marry him. It’s not clear, even to Lily, if she does this because she does not love him enough, or because she is still so scarred by being jilted (as she was in SMALL HOUSE). We also meet the man who jilted her, Crosbie, once again, and find he is suitably miserable. I thought for sure when Johnny and Lily came back in this book it was because Trollope was going to put us out of our misery and GET THEM TOGHETHER. Oh no. They just randomly DON’T GET TOGETHER. Goddamn 1400 pages later, they DON’T GET TOGETHER. What the hell?!! I am bitter.

THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON by Anthony Trollope

Yes, I’m on a massive Trollope kick. There’s no denying it. He’s just orderly. His world is rational. I LOVE it. I specifically saved this book for a long plane ride I had, and it was awesome. It’s just amazing how a book with a strong plot can erase an airport, annoying seat mate, etc etc. Not that I also didn’t watch 3 movies (Dear John – AVOID!, Remember Me – Robert Pattison and 9/11 – nuff said; and Green Zone – MOSTLY AVOID!) Anyway, in the small house at Allington lives a young lady called Lily Dale, apparently one of Trollope’s best loved heroines. Her cousin brings a young man Mr Crosbie down to stay, and the two fall in love. He asks her to marry him and she accepts.

This is usually where most Trollope novels end, but with this one our problems are only just beginning. Mr Crosbie is much admired at the Civil Service, where he works, and uses his small income to impress. He realises that if he gets married he’ll be trapped in a small house with babies and have hardly any income at all. A very modern worry really. So like two weeks later he asks this titled lady he’s known for some time to marry him instead. She also doesn’t have much money, but he thinks a titled connection will be good for his career, and he likes her well enough. She’s been on the market 14 years, so decides to cut her losses and accept.

Lily is made totally miserable by this desertion. Interestingly, so is Crosbie. He finds he has nothing in common with his new wife, and is expected to keep up a way of life way beyond his income. In addition, his social circle are not impressed with him for jilting Lily. He gets attacked at a train station by one John Eames, who is in love with Lily, and wants to avenge her. He asks Lily to marry him, and she refuses, saying she is married to Crosbie in her heart. Which is a bit bizarre.

What I loved about this book was the writing style (smooth as butter!), the dilemma of Crosbie (it was very interesting to see someone make personal calculations of that kind) and of course meeting people from the other novels in the series. It’s like coming across a different period in your life, quite unexpectedly, because I read some of these novels ages ago.

Last: did you know Trollope wrote every day for three hours, without fail? 250 words every 15 minutes, and he said he didn’t understand all the agonising and wall staring; it’s just discipline. He said he attributed his whole success in life to the discipline of early hours. Let’s put that in our lazy pipes and smoke it.

CIDER WITH ROSIE by Laurie Lee


This is an apparently quite famous memoir of a childhood spent in the Cotswolds immediately after the First World War. This guy is one of the youngest in a family of eight. His father has taken a job in town, and never comes to the country, simply sending money (and not exactly tons of it) to his wife to look after the children. Not all of them are hers; some are his from a previous marriage. But luckily for him he is not too bothered by any of them.

The book is quite poetic in style, and evokes quite beautifully the country life. It’s also quite interesting from a historic point of view. On the one hand, everyone seems very happy, in a sort of wasn’t village life wonderful kind of way, but then on the other hand people keep killing themselves. So that was weird.

Anyway, it was a good book I guess and has sold 6 million copies but it didn’t do much for me.