tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78716900499982090692024-03-05T17:53:24.357+11:00Evie ReadsRed-haired bibliophile of little eloquence rants feverishly about her recent reads.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-73685512001154930202010-11-25T06:37:00.001+11:002010-11-25T06:38:04.273+11:00The Stuff of Thought: Language as a window into human nature by Steven Pinker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3OIw5xIr08hL8tVzItVQYMuB9Klq75-QnNp_abJ88CIgzfEmie6zYZIEXZRlDIto4ccxz8vdYfdGPZ9eOAMmZgpEvdalQtvnBOSkoBJcrgl93YMOto8Bvz9DusdXA_hIQ_csD7StwXQ/s1600/1867-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3OIw5xIr08hL8tVzItVQYMuB9Klq75-QnNp_abJ88CIgzfEmie6zYZIEXZRlDIto4ccxz8vdYfdGPZ9eOAMmZgpEvdalQtvnBOSkoBJcrgl93YMOto8Bvz9DusdXA_hIQ_csD7StwXQ/s200/1867-1.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>I have always had an appetite for linguistics, and words have always fascinated me beyond their simple meanings or double-meanings, beyond syntax and grammar to a deeper level of comprehension. Stupidly, I have read little on the subject before (but found myself inexplicably titillated by the tiny linguistics section of my local library and always left wanting by the light, comedic books I <i>have</i> picked up about etymology or grammar). <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Stuff-Thought-Language-Window-Nature/dp/B002LITSJI?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Stuff of Thought</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B002LITSJI" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> takes a deeper, more investigative look into the way we use language, and what the subsequent discoveries say about human nature.<br />
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Pinker is not ‘light and comedic’ although he can be witty and sometimes wry. He subscribes to the school of linguistic thought which asserts that language is a window into human nature, rather than a controlling force that dictates how we are (his is a common assumption in modern linguistics – and the book does give us some background for reference). In <i>The Stuff of Thought</i> he attempts to show why that is true – presumably to a wider readership who aren’t linguists and therefore familiar with the conclusion already.<br />
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Pinker elaborates on many assertions to that end – such as how it is possible that two people can view the same event in two entirely different ways, the ‘zooming in’ of the microscope on verbs and verb structures which provides answers to seemingly unsolvable questions about semantics and ‘learning the unlearnable’, an entire chapter on taboo language (swear words etc.) and what makes them so powerful (my favourite example of this being the posited “what does the ‘fuck’ in ‘fuck you’ actually mean?”), and the negotiation of relationships through language – the motions of which we go through every day, in one way or another.<br />
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It is tempting to simply fill this post with exciting linguistic discoveries I made as a result of reading this book, but that would be silly. There isn’t much to say apart from if you get the amount of delight from semantics and verb forms that I do, this is a must-read. Pinker makes this kind of science accessible (hence this made the <i>New York Times</i> Bestseller list) to a wide audience of enthusiastic word-fondlers, and for that I am eternally grateful to him. I am determined to read his four other books on the subject of cognitive science, and probe further into the wonders of linguistic learning.<br />
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EXTRA: <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/steven_pinker_on_language_and_thought.html">Here is a video</a> from 2005 of Pinker doing a TED talk about the ideas he was working on for this very book.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-21365751681936164082010-11-23T03:55:00.000+11:002010-11-23T03:55:20.522+11:00Kraken by China Miéville<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pchD5_zuzjnWnSsz6WFELGGl0u2Mmn3xd9j_HN6dt63xEkRgTJkZtbNvxdvpurSkC4HiO_21QUj-boQ0k5H7SZsTEj6KE3j6X8GbDJpgbM8XSsgmoueABykmlxOrChC68rooQpq4dYo/s1600/Kraken+UK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pchD5_zuzjnWnSsz6WFELGGl0u2Mmn3xd9j_HN6dt63xEkRgTJkZtbNvxdvpurSkC4HiO_21QUj-boQ0k5H7SZsTEj6KE3j6X8GbDJpgbM8XSsgmoueABykmlxOrChC68rooQpq4dYo/s200/Kraken+UK.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>Something is happening in London – in its skin, in its soul, in the nooks and crannies of its many secret subsections. Something is … coming. And even the most intuitive, clued-in ‘knackers’ don’t know what it is… except that it involves the end of everything.<br />
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Museum curator Billy Harrow is also unaware of the impending apocalypse until his prize specimen, the Architeuthis (or Kraken, or giant squid) totally vanishes from its display room (giant specimen jar and all). After a visit from a bizarre and shady division of the Metropolitan Police – the FSRC (Fundamentalist and Sect-Related Crimes unit) – he is flung into the clutches of a London he has never seen before; filled with stone-spirits and murderous talking tattoos and ocean-worshippers and Londonmancers. When Billy discovers that the pickled Architeuthis can (and likely will) destroy the world, his life becomes a race against the approaching disaster in which all parties want the same thing but everyone is pulling in different directions to get it.<br />
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Miéville’s famed and acclaimed imagination shakes its tail feathers cheekily throughout <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kraken-China-Mieville/dp/034549749X?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Kraken</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=034549749X" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=034549749X" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> – here he gives us all the barmy-ness and creative ingenuity we have come to love about his books, but with a Pratchett-esque playful irony and a plethora of subculture references we’ve not seen from him before. When I met him just after the release of <i>Kraken</i>, he told me that “it’s a comedy. It’s a toilet book – you should read it on the toilet.” I probably just blushed and blathered like I normally do in his presence, but I thought of that remark often later when I read the book (and no, not because I read it on the toilet!)<br />
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All right, I’m going to say it: I don’t think this is his best work. I think this is a flirt with genre and with subculture; perhaps a way to lighten the mood a little for him as so many of his novels deal with dark political subjects or the mass corruption of morals, and are genre-defining in and of themselves. <i>Kraken</i> - whilst being funny and witty and having a fantastic array of characters, themes and scenescapes - doesn’t have the pace or clarity of vision that shines so brilliantly through the bizarre realms of his other books. It is overflowing with metaphor, which I sometimes found tedious because they seemed to be present for nothing other than to be ironic or self-parodying. The characters are not very well-realised, and sometimes it seems as though their actions occur for no reason other than plot convenience. Maybe my perception wasn't nuanced enough to "get it" but I know there are other Miéville fans out there who felt the same way.<br />
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<i>Kraken</i> is good fun, but requires dedication. As a huge fangirl it was easy for me to still love this book for what it was, but if you’re not a patient reader the first 150 pages or so might get you down. I really enjoyed the ‘magical’ London, the monsters and mythology, the nudges and winks sprinkled throughout for us nerdy elite to giggle knowingly at... but I do think if you want to make a light-hearted laugh-a-thon it might be done better at a few hundred pages less. Even so, sections of it are riveting and utterly entertaining - it is really hard for me to be in any way critical in NORMAL LIFE, let alone of one of my favourite writers of all time. China, I still love you!Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-75686686859227979072010-10-26T02:04:00.000+11:002010-10-26T02:04:50.513+11:00Audiobook: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdsScEieOqPG7qPQCWJt7hy-D532eoaFH7-waESAe7oh0p856pdwGhn7hJdHlccy9vTQRdja-V2cAWtmrIye9m7UtYkO5A0qmyuuU6Ifik0tz7AXKBjxFveV0bsy4XKYVDX52HZIpnIKw/s1600/read_eat-pray-love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdsScEieOqPG7qPQCWJt7hy-D532eoaFH7-waESAe7oh0p856pdwGhn7hJdHlccy9vTQRdja-V2cAWtmrIye9m7UtYkO5A0qmyuuU6Ifik0tz7AXKBjxFveV0bsy4XKYVDX52HZIpnIKw/s200/read_eat-pray-love.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>Due to the loss of my 2 hours a day of commute time (read: reading time) this poor little corner of the blogosphere has been severely neglected of late. Nowadays I walk to work, 40 minutes each way. I decided to stop using that as an excuse not to absorb books in the sponge-like fashion of my commuting days; so downloaded the audiobook version of <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Eat-Pray-Love-Everything-Indonesia/dp/0143058525?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Eat, Pray, Love</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0143058525" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> (if you’ve never heard of it, welcome back to Earth! We missed you!) read by the author Elizabeth Gilbert.<br />
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This was a perfect introduction to the world of audiobooks. <i>Eat, Pray, Love</i> is the personal story of Gilbert’s emotional journey over one year of travel, food and finding god, so it was only fitting that it was read by her and luckily, very well. She imbues all of her speech with the same passion, insight, wit and honesty that is so evident in her writing (and one of the reasons she is an international bestselling author now), creating a conversational, convivial feel which makes you giggle with her and share her heartaches, confusions and bliss as if they were your own.<br />
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After a traumatic divorce and a long battle with depression, Gilbert extracts herself from her life to spend four months in Rome in pursuit of pleasure, four months in India in pursuit of god, and four months in Bali in pursuit of the balance between the two. The exact thing she is searching for throughout the book is what makes her writing so lovely – the combination of opulence and indulgence and raw emotional honesty gives the story real balance. It is not a frivolous romp of lavishness, nor is it a demented self-help guide for chakra-cleansing hippies. Gilbert makes spirituality appealing by being honest about who she is and how she got to be where she is. It helps that she is hilarious, sweet and modest, with a very cheeky sense of humour.<br />
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I loved the voices she did for different characters, and how expressive she was in general. Every implication of wry sarcasm, stifled laughter, bitterness, pain and everything else was there to be heard in her intonation and lilt, making a very personal journey an easily shared one. Honestly I’d recommend having a listen to the audiobook even if you’ve read the book, maybe if you’re planning on re-reading it. It is a true delight, adding another dimension of personality to a story already packed with punch and vitality and love.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-47399468622617983592010-09-07T01:03:00.000+10:002010-09-07T01:03:10.715+10:00Back From The Dead: The Legacy of the Pan Book of Horror Stories by Johnny Mains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4127/4963530091_8517afa93b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4127/4963530091_8517afa93b.jpg" width="131" /></a></div><i> The Pan Book of Horror Stories</i> was an iconic and long-running literary institution in Britain for some decades from the 1960s through to the 1980s; to such an extent that I had actually heard of it despite having been born in Australia in 1986! Publishing short horror stories by little-known writers in yearly volumes, it tingled the spines and inspired the nightmares of thousands in its heyday. <i>Back From The Dead</i> is anthologist Johnny Mains’ love letter to the series. He has devotedly selected and compiled these stories along with author anecdotes, a look into the influence of the series and a biography of Herbert Van Thal, the Pan Horrors’ infamous editor.<br />
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The stories contained in <i>Back From The Dead</i> are sometimes tame, sometimes gruesome, but all have the haunting quality of eeriness for which the Pan Book of Horror gained its infamy. They are written by authors featured, at some point or other, in the Pan Horror series - sixteen of them are new, previously unpublished tales, and five are classics. The nostalgic format – each story starting off with an author’s anecdote about their experience with the series and with Van Thal, was a real pleasure to read.<br />
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Not being much of a genre-reader I have never really delved into horror before and it was an interesting experience. Sometimes I was actually delighted by the types of things that really scared me; such as birds, or children, or deserted islands, or very subtle <i>implications </i>of the macabre. Quiet omens. My favourite stories and the ones which left the biggest impact on me were ones that asked more questions than they answered. <i>Camera Obscura</i>, about a greedy money-lender who visits one of his debtors (an old man who lives in a mysteriously large house on a hill) and peers into his strange, homemade ‘camera obscura’ only to leave the house into a world that isn’t the same one he came from, was one of my favourites. I also loved <i>Mr Smyth</i>, which tells of a policeman investigating the murder of a beautiful young girl who seemed, by all witness accounts, to have been fawning all over a decrepit and penniless old man. But every story selected by Johnny Mains is worth its salt as a soul-chilling, goosebump-inducing tale and if you like a good creep-out then this volume is a decent dose!<br />
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I found the 'anthology' format fascinating because the selection of content gives you a little peek into the personality of the anthologist –which is also why the story of Herbert “Bertie” Van Thal contained within is so interesting and deeply explored in <i>Back From The Dead</i>. In this case the selection is devlishly mischievous, somewhat sentimental and just the right balance between gory and charming. In my opinion this dark homage is a love letter, sealed with a scream, to Van Thal and the Pan Horror Series - and couldn’t have been, ahem, executed better.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-53021344049816684092010-07-23T02:18:00.001+10:002010-07-23T02:23:36.397+10:00The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9trbcLmSTdr1r04xEn3fKZctZHiqTZ7Zgme_evzHLfVJH_YWltOThhswFfSHC_LYGrry7LazdYmX4Pc56Brg2DglvyLnfb8S9lljoZ8-pDYTcKv3dd5MIK2kU781-qYk87qa7RpjEH4/s1600/0340921560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9trbcLmSTdr1r04xEn3fKZctZHiqTZ7Zgme_evzHLfVJH_YWltOThhswFfSHC_LYGrry7LazdYmX4Pc56Brg2DglvyLnfb8S9lljoZ8-pDYTcKv3dd5MIK2kU781-qYk87qa7RpjEH4/s200/0340921560.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>It is unsurprising that I found this book a true delight, if you are aware of my love for David Mitchell. I find his style of writing to be so innovative, exciting, enchanting and delightful that I can rarely put a book of his down once I’ve started it. Despite the fact that the subject isn’t one I originally thought would invigorate me, I found the little bit of Japanese/Dutch history lesson a fascinating journey.<br />
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In the eighteenth century, Dejima was an established Dutch trading post (and artificial island) in the bay of Nagasaki, Japan. In <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thousand-Autumns-Jacob-Zoet-Novel/dp/1400065453?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Thousand Autumns</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1400065453" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" />, a young clerk arrives in Dejima with the naïve notion of assisting his chief in the abolition of corruption amongst the Dutch officials there residing. Clerk Jacob de Zoet is a pious and good-willed man, making him instantly likeable and comical among his otherwise crude and dodgy peers. Although it is his intention to leave Dejima as quickly as possible and pick up his Dutch life where he left it off, his fate becomes intrinsically intertwined with Japan when he meets (and subsequently falls for) Aibagawa Orito, a Japanese midwife studying on the island under the resident Doctor, Marinus (incidentally one of my favourite characters). Her enlistment by the mysterious Abbot Enomoto to join his Shiranui Shrine – through no desire of her own – sets off a series of events which change de Zoet’s life forever.<br />
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Mitchell flexes his imaginative muscle with prowess throughout the novel, with different sections of it taking place on Dutch Dejima, Japanese Nagasaki, the Shrine of Shiranui (a monastery/convent shrouded in rumour and mystery), aboard an English trading ship, and in the minds, hearts and memories of many of the book’s endearing characters. It is a tale rife with colour and culture, atmosphere and ambience.<br />
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What I liked best about <i>The Thousand Autumns</i> was the rhythmic nature of its prose. Mitchell has employed a very subtle and structured poeticism in the writing of this book which made me feel that it would be quite fun and interesting to read aloud. There is a distinct rhythm which runs all the way through, especially in the dialogue, which gives it a Shakespearean, stage-play feel. There is also a fantastic section which is written in rhyming prose; look out for that, it’ll make your linguistic antennas tingle (a symptom of Mitchell’s usual stylistic genius)! He plays with language; moulding and manipulating words into new and exciting shapes, making you notice and, in turn,<i> think about</i> his choice of wording.<br />
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<i>The Thousand Autumns</i> is a beautifully well-rounded novel, sharing with its readers the incredible wisdom of David Mitchell’s imagination, while being elusive and enigmatic enough to give your mind an imaginative workout, too. If you’re an established Mitchell fan (<i>comme moi</i>), it’s a must-read. If you were bored/annoyed by Cloud Atlas (as I know some of you were), probably don’t try to improve your Mitchell-affection with this one – turn your eyes to <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Number9Dream-David-Mitchell/dp/0812966929?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Number9Dream</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0812966929" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> or <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Black-Swan-Green-David-Mitchell/dp/0812974018?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Black Swan Green</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0812974018" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" />!Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-8830248916130165112010-07-16T02:12:00.004+10:002010-07-23T02:19:57.944+10:00American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUPiqhN6O-X1vhEFg4DhO09gsukfQpmDDSFMCNbyWaMZnWL2V8TWapMvR_Nhv_kFfY3DR-LvkR-AZ-LQlHYXXChcLHUixOq0RYIepf-b_DughIRmPCXg7cNw_qboUfxGoumbyA4lWd3c/s1600/americanpsycho1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494167037702146466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUPiqhN6O-X1vhEFg4DhO09gsukfQpmDDSFMCNbyWaMZnWL2V8TWapMvR_Nhv_kFfY3DR-LvkR-AZ-LQlHYXXChcLHUixOq0RYIepf-b_DughIRmPCXg7cNw_qboUfxGoumbyA4lWd3c/s200/americanpsycho1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 132px;" /></a><br />
Patrick Bateman is a designer suit wearing, Zagat guide toting, cigar clenching Wall Street banker with a bloodlust so furious it causes him to chop people up (to put it tamely). He lives in a world full of vacant, vapid and vacuous characters who constantly mistake him for other Wall Street suits (and whom he can barely tell apart) and no matter how many useless designer things he buys, episodes of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Patty Winters Show</span> he watches, reservations he makes at trendy restaurants or girls he tortures and kills, he remains totally unsatisfied and restless. His voice is that of a frantic madman in a soulless void (and often reminded me of one of Hunter s Thompson’s characters; i.e. insane, on drugs, constantly becoming anxious and fretful as a result of ‘normal’ social interactions).<br />
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Ellis uses tedious repetition, adsurdism and extreme juxtaposition to illustrate this satire of early 1990s New York. His detailed and ridiculous descriptions of food, music and clothing create a pretentious world full of superficial clowns and court jesters, none of whom are ever listening to one another (as evidenced by the constant admissions of psychopathic thoughts and urges by Bateman, which his peers ignore/don’t hear). Yes, the violence is maddening but it is my opinion that any book which inspires emotion, raw & deeply moving, serves its purpose. Ellis obviously has a pretty dark mind but even though he described the book as being an ‘exorcism’ of his own feelings and frustrations, I don’t think it is entirely gratuitous. A very bleak and serious point is being made about consumerism and ‘yuppie’ culture, and human beings’ stifled ability to connect with one another in the modern world.<br />
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I went to see Bret Easton Ellis do a bit of a talk and Q&A about <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/American-Psycho-Bret-Easton-Ellis/dp/0679735771?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">American Psycho</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0679735771" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></span> last night, in association with the Guardian Book Club. It was really enlightening to hear him speak about such a harrowing work – about his writing process, the motivations behind his novels, and the fact that he has only recently (20 odd years after its publication) been able to come to terms with what the book was about (himself) and lower the barrier of constant defensiveness which he’s barricaded himself behind for a long time. A lot of people asked him ‘why’ questions: “why did you write it this way?” “Why did you decide to have him do that?” etc., which I found somewhat tedious and which poor Ellis simply couldn’t answer apart from with a repeated “it just felt right that way”. I think one of the great things about <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/American-Psycho-Bret-Easton-Ellis/dp/0679735771?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">American Psycho</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0679735771" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> is its ambiguity. Is Patrick Bateman as attractive as he claims? Does he really commit all these heinous acts, or is it simply a nightmare going on inside his head? I <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span> these questions to remain unanswered: that’s the intrigue of it.<br />
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While <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/American-Psycho-Bret-Easton-Ellis/dp/0679735771?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">American Psycho</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0679735771" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></span> is by no means for the faint-hearted, it is a comedy of the blackest degree and a literary force to be reckoned with.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-36569387347132672372010-07-01T23:55:00.004+10:002010-07-02T00:37:09.537+10:00Learning & sharing knowledgeI'm sitting in a 'social networking crash course' which I am primarily attending for work, trying to decide what my 'core purpose' is. For the sake of this blog post (and the course), I'm going to talk about how my core purpose is learning & sharing knowledge.<br /><br />For me, learning is life's ultimate purpose: it IS the journey, it IS growth. I would like to think of myself as "interested in everything". Nothing is boring when you are constantly learning. All information is new and conversely, being able to share knowledge, ideas & opinions is one of the most gratifying things in life. Books are obviously one of my favourite facilities to do this - but I also love using the internet as a platform to connect with people & share information on a real-time basis.<br /><br />I'm an optimist and like to get the best out of everything. (I'm seriously thinking of getting a tattoo which says 'make lemonade', though some part of my brain keeps telling me it's ridiculous. Perhaps I should be telling myself to embrace the ridiculous - jump forward! ACT! LIFE IS SHORT!) Social networking is no different. I'm using these tools to have fun, to make connections, to share & to learn. And these are the same values I apply to my life.<br /><br />What would you say is your 'core purpose'?Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-4088037292772213172010-05-15T03:27:00.004+10:002010-07-23T02:20:33.556+10:00How Proust Can Change Your Life by Alain de Botton<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVS-kV5p8LzWOzb7sD8KB72JgojoZfKn5WJUHo5PGk3dK65V1N2dHP3psKtVZZ7O9g0mDxosIUn4IFgamqcbGe0Ckp5Uyq1eLPx9T6zkACtGvx3-LUK61ywueDdWP75aYnBB7Fs51VaLg/s1600/s640x480.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471179835048095618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVS-kV5p8LzWOzb7sD8KB72JgojoZfKn5WJUHo5PGk3dK65V1N2dHP3psKtVZZ7O9g0mDxosIUn4IFgamqcbGe0Ckp5Uyq1eLPx9T6zkACtGvx3-LUK61ywueDdWP75aYnBB7Fs51VaLg/s200/s640x480.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 132px;" /></a><br />
<div><div>The lovely Alain de Botton has done it again: he’s taken a huge multidimensional subject that scholars spend years dissecting and digesting (and casual readers shy away from) and pared it down into a handy 200-odd page volume that is delightful to read and makes for much more easily digestible food-for-thought.<br />
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<i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Proust-Change-Your-Life/dp/0679779159?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">How Proust Can Change Your Life</a></i><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0679779159" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> is a pretty self-explanatory title, but I’m a fan of unnecessary elaboration and want to share with you some of the chapter titles, such as How To Be A Good Friend (including lessons on listening), How To Take Your Time (featuring a foray into Pascal’s Pensées), How To Express Your Emotions (giving your loved ones nicknames like plouplou & le flagorneur [the toady] is a good start) and my personal favourite, How To Suffer Successfully. If we follow his train of thought, de Botton compares so many common, modern modes of behaviour to those of early 20th century French characters it is really quite astonishing – and even made me wonder about the nature of human behaviour and how much (or little) it is affected by generational differences. De Botton clearly knows his stuff; his understanding not only of Proust’s work but of his personality, lifestyle and personal relationships resounds clearly throughout the book, giving it a much broader feel than simply a narrow exploration of In Search of Lost Time. He uses humour & irony so subtly but with such aptitude that it really creeps up on you – de Botton has a real gift; he is able to trick you into learning something and enjoying it, which if you ask me is the only real way to learn. (This coming from a girl with no tertiary education to speak of, who still believes herself an intelligent & valid person!)<br />
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Above all else this sweet little book provides a fantastic introduction to a man my impatient 21st century mind might have otherwise overlooked. De Botton emphasises that while Proust was no flawless genius or impeccable literary mastermind, he was sensitive, deeply intelligent and had a weighty understanding of what it means to be human – all traits that make him a worthy read even today. </div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06231868972861617791noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-55338454534476521022010-04-13T23:07:00.000+10:002010-04-13T23:07:23.909+10:00Beautiful Exile: The Life of Martha Gellhorn by Carl Rollyson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjJc2-kOBzRPXOIqfGTTMdLQ2Rc9sFhgEjFjg-1Q3MRsyCizT_Bxn8vU-Btt_jNLluerD-ooostzXga3fAC3PuVluQahGHDyU_S-hIp7JKtQ19dJXYgdUk9FY5fKIA_zLxTz1OczDyK45/s1600/beautiful+exile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjJc2-kOBzRPXOIqfGTTMdLQ2Rc9sFhgEjFjg-1Q3MRsyCizT_Bxn8vU-Btt_jNLluerD-ooostzXga3fAC3PuVluQahGHDyU_S-hIp7JKtQ19dJXYgdUk9FY5fKIA_zLxTz1OczDyK45/s200/beautiful+exile.jpg" width="129" /></a></div>If you've never heard of Martha Gellhorn, then you have something in common with me before I picked up this book. It now seems strange to me that I had no idea who she was, knowing what I now know about her life, her work & her spirit.<br />
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<i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-Exile-Life-Martha-Gellhorn/dp/0595480470?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Beautiful Exile</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0595480470" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i> is worth a read just for the discovery of such a punchy, ambitious & headstrong woman, who found the term 'feminist' offensive. I would have to agree with the book jacket quote deeming her 'plucky'. Martha Gellhorn was compassionate & perpetually outraged, and you certainly wouldn't have wanted to mess with her. Rollyson explores Gellhorn's mother Edna's life in a brief but interesting first chapter, which I felt set the scene for her entry into the world perfectly. Born in St Louis in 1908, Gellhorn had a childhood set by her mother's example; Edna being one of St Louis' prominent community servers. It therefore comes as no surprise that one of Gellhorn's main concerns throughout her life was endeavoring to ease the suffering of others. <br />
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In her teenage years, Martha Gellhorn married the french novelist Colette's stepson (and also, ahem, her lover), Bertrand Jouvenel. In her twenties she had an affair with H.G. Wells, before meeting, living with and eventually marrying writer Ernest Hemingway (she was his third wife, and they stayed married for 4 years). Gellhorn dropped out of college to pursue a career in journalism. She traveled to Paris & joined the pacifist movement. She reported about the humane issues all across the USA during the Depression. She stayed with the Roosevelts in the White House & struck up a lifelong friendship with Eleanor Roosevelt before she was 20. She reported practically from the front line during the Spanish Civil War, and then reported on World War II from all over Europe. By the time things started to sour in her marriage to Hemingway, he used his fame & connections to 'beat' her and maneuver himself closer to the D-Day landings at Normandy. To best him, she impersonated a nurse and managed to get right into the thick of things - even more than he was.<br />
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If all that isn't enough, she went snorkeling in her 80s, lived in a tiny cottage on a Kenyan mountaintop, adopted a boy from an Italian orphanage, traveled to more than 200 countries, either charmed the pants off or annoyed the hell out of everyone she met, and lived to be 89. Apart from the lack of compelling, page-turning narrative you find in a novel, this biography has it all. It is thorough, sympathetic, dramatic and contextual. It really was a pleasure getting to know the talented, contrary and utterly human Martha Gellhorn.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-76165513604670576002010-03-27T00:20:00.000+11:002010-03-27T00:20:44.181+11:00The City & The City by China Miéville<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYY36KUrDCytM219-SZ9VRkb1NjjBWHXSzo6RVWQFll_EkrgwvkY_1zJP7UkTUR9PvFQYtGnibefkPmT1dLSqkFOkEos1NL_Wysvwn4h7fWYexyMnK88AjAykMNfA_ngfY5jg9aDbWPE7/s1600/thecity&thecity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYY36KUrDCytM219-SZ9VRkb1NjjBWHXSzo6RVWQFll_EkrgwvkY_1zJP7UkTUR9PvFQYtGnibefkPmT1dLSqkFOkEos1NL_Wysvwn4h7fWYexyMnK88AjAykMNfA_ngfY5jg9aDbWPE7/s200/thecity&thecity.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>Forgive me for reviewing yet another China Miéville novel; he is just one of my favourite authors & I read anything of his I can! <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/City-China-Mieville/dp/0345497511?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The City & The City</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0345497511" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i> is a deviation from most of his previous work; its a murder-mystery set against a realistic eastern European backdrop populated by human beings rather than in the fantastical monster-ridden realm of Bas Lag, the setting of three of his previous books.<br />
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Inspector Tyador Borlu of the Beszel Extreme Crime Squad is called to a derelict estate in a corner of greying Beszel when a young girl's murdered body is discovered under a mattress. Borlu may have thought he'd been in the force long enough to have seen it all, but his investigation into this murder gets more complicated with every followed lead, and eventually takes him on a journey to another city. Ul Qoma: a modern, brightly-lit metropolis gaining international trade despite its somewhat vagabond status. It has been a long time since Inspector Borlu has visited Ul Qoma, even though he has walked past many of its streets & sights every day for his whole life. As alibis unravel and anonymous tip-offs result in successful interrogations, Borlu realises that rather than getting closer to solving the case, he is unearthing a deeper conspiracy that could affect the fates of both cities, and whatever the force is that binds them together (or keeps them apart).<br />
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In this shadowy tale of seeing & unseeing, politics & revolution, murder & police procedure; Miéville exaggerates the human need to cling on to illusions in order to see their desired social reality. His experiment is riveting and complete, his cityscapes deliciously fleshed-out and their cultural dynamics scrutinized. Not usually being a crime reader myself, I found <i>The City & The City</i> a real noire delight - it has just the right balance of crafty Miéville imagination & traditional Kafka-esque detective story to be a unique, exciting book that YOU SHOULD READ!<br />
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In advance: you're welcome!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-19536421333297164842010-03-25T02:10:00.000+11:002010-03-25T02:10:08.634+11:00Wonders of a Godless World by Andrew McGahan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwgWvrusNzgCXmLzWNnhyT2IDit42RDnOpLee3FYcXyXsyK0r_7dgczWn3qoWpynxruRAM63Dqtdh__X3FSn9n9phyFM41UqNsvfNzbaqrIRUeOwIpNiXgSYRS74ukdbDoJJNQmaczgT0/s1600/020110+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwgWvrusNzgCXmLzWNnhyT2IDit42RDnOpLee3FYcXyXsyK0r_7dgczWn3qoWpynxruRAM63Dqtdh__X3FSn9n9phyFM41UqNsvfNzbaqrIRUeOwIpNiXgSYRS74ukdbDoJJNQmaczgT0/s200/020110+013.jpg" width="130" /></a></div><i>Wonders of a Godless World</i> tells the story of a mute orphan girl living and working in a run-down mental hospital on an unnamed tropical island dominated by a volcano. Despite having a strong affinity with the earth and an inexplicable ability to predict the weather, the orphan has little competence with language. The narrative shows the world through her eyes; how she struggles to comprehend the things that go on around her, or to make any sense out of her existence.<br />
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Late one night an ambulance pulls up and delivers the hospital's newest patient. Obviously a foreigner, the mystery man is comatose and his skin is badly charred all over. The doctors try everything they can to revive or animate him, but to no avail; he remains a vegetable. Out of all the mad, delusional, destructive & profane patients resident at the hospital, the foreigner is allocated lodgings with a dapper duke, a waifish virgin, a tragically beautiful archangel and a malicious witch. When the orphan starts to fancy that she hears the foreigner communicating with her in her head, all manner of strange phenomena begin to occur. The patients are in turmoil, the volcano erupts and everyone begins behaving strangely, leading to a series of unexpected and brutal deaths. The orphan, however, has connected with someone for the first time in her life - and he is taking her to places she had never even dreamed of. With the foreigner's guidance, she is learning about geography, outer space, science and self-love. What ensues is an exploration of the psyche, a journey into madness and an examination of the hidden realms of consciousness.<br />
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McGahan's style is strangely straightforward. I read an interview with him where he explained that the idea for this novel came initially from his desire to write a book with no dialogue; the character of the mute orphan who is barely able to communicate crafted out of this desire. I think it is the lack of dialogue and the innocence of the orphan's mind that makes for such easily flowing prose, allowing him to depict man and nature in this bizarre interplay with one another in a clear, energetic way. However, behind the lucid wording lurk the shadows of bigger concepts, like religion, death, sex and love; and while I enjoyed the strange plot twists and exciting pace of the story, I did feel that McGahan only just scraped the surface of the ideas he could have explored with this book.<br />
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From what I understand <i>Wonders of a Godless World</i> is a stylistic about-turn for McGahan, which makes me curious to read some of his other work. He has won many awards (including the Miles Franklin Literary Award and the Commonwealth Writers' Prize for his novel <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/White-Earth-Andrew-McGahan/dp/1569474176?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The White Earth</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1569474176" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i>) and is considered one of Australia's finest modern authors. If you're looking for a riveting story about identity, madness and the forces of nature, <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Wonders-Godless-World-Andrew-McGahan/dp/0007352638/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1269436775&sr=8-1">this one</a>'s for you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-34643351051979082212010-02-22T10:25:00.003+11:002010-02-22T10:36:08.400+11:00A literary birthday: Anaïs Nin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2CuwLTbhCHSdkMRz0dNd6G4ZNPRttAaDDt4lKMEnpUdl3g2M8zn5mZuofg6zugRXYSMICfTuNMEzzIIBp40BokqeZu0-zxmwkqX4YbR2bHmvCAu7S3F2bCPgv521ZRnvHBftwvuDT7t0/s1600-h/180px-Anais.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2CuwLTbhCHSdkMRz0dNd6G4ZNPRttAaDDt4lKMEnpUdl3g2M8zn5mZuofg6zugRXYSMICfTuNMEzzIIBp40BokqeZu0-zxmwkqX4YbR2bHmvCAu7S3F2bCPgv521ZRnvHBftwvuDT7t0/s320/180px-Anais.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440842436472124146" border="0" /></a>Anaïs Nin is one of my favourite writers of all time. And not for her erotica, for which she is most famous. The first time I picked up Anaïs Nin's diaries, it changed me. I don't think I've ever been the same since.<br /><br />Nin shifted my perspectives, opened me up like a flower & taught me sensitivity, poetry in all things, sensuality, and self-analysis. Yes, I'll admit the woman was a little nuts (at the time of her death she had 2 husbands who knew nothing of one another, in different parts of the country; not to mention her weird relationship with her father) but aside from that I know I'm not the only one her writing, and her spirit, touched. She was an intoxicating muse, a financial aid to artists she thought needed her help (though she had no real money herself), and a true disciple of art & beauty.<br /><br />I encourage anyone to pick up one of her journals & discover this demon-chaser, this wild woman, this poetess, this creature of undulating sensuality, still today ablaze with life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-4912598978730948402010-02-16T14:06:00.003+11:002010-03-25T02:11:52.478+11:00American Gods by Neil Gaiman<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw27ETO6y-TQo-VxA5enmh7WTXo57_0JAbzAAnYNRHnNfvHStvdeLhiJ2_5rd_M1Zp0Nvr-pJCOq3-XkcT5vjQyvMhVluMk62RZXi_4QyqbdpQ0pPDdQ2G8SS_hvOgm-UKH4zN2RsXUS4e/s1600-h/075532281902lzzzzzzz1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438672742910729314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw27ETO6y-TQo-VxA5enmh7WTXo57_0JAbzAAnYNRHnNfvHStvdeLhiJ2_5rd_M1Zp0Nvr-pJCOq3-XkcT5vjQyvMhVluMk62RZXi_4QyqbdpQ0pPDdQ2G8SS_hvOgm-UKH4zN2RsXUS4e/s200/075532281902lzzzzzzz1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 132px;" /></a><br />
Shadow is about to finish a three-year prison sentence when he is informed his wife has been killed in an accident. He is released a couple of days early in order to fly home for the funeral, but on the plane he meets a mysterious man named Mr. Wednesday, who offers him a job. Shadow, with nothing left to lose, accepts.<br />
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Working for Mr. Wednesday takes Shadow on a crazy, hazy road trip around America, meeting all manner of people & creatures, being kidnapped, haunted by his dead wife & seduced in his dreams. He must come to terms with the fact that he doesn't really know who he is, and he might have been chosen for this job for a reason. "A storm is coming..." they continuously tell him, and Shadow must find a way to stop it. But first, he needs to work out exactly who, and what, he is dealing with.<br />
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Another fantastic concept from Mr Gaiman - where does he come up with these things?: America is a country mostly made up of immigrants. People from all over the world have come & settled there, bringing with them their ideals, cultural identities, social structures and... their gods. But what happens when gods are transported to a new land and some generations later, forgotten about? Gaiman explores the psyche of American gods, from the forgotten (Anubis, Anansi, Odin et al) to the gods of a more modern society, such as gods of the internet, television and cars. Leprechauns with coin tricks, the murderous black god Czernobog, old ladies in nightdresses who pluck the moon from the sky, the walking dead and television figures that come to life are just some of the enthralling and delightful characters this book explores. I am once again dazzled and deeply impressed with Gaiman's imaginative prose. Really, this book is a mythology geek's dream-come-true; it is packed full of myths, legends, fables and folklore cleverly tucked into its every nook. If, like me, you're not so well-versed in mythological stories, <a href="http://www.frowl.org/gods/gods.html">this</a> might be of some help.<br />
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The only thing that bothered me about this hefty novel (the edition I read was around 650 pages) was how many mystery-doors were opened in the first half or three-quarters of the book that subsequently then had to be closed & tied up towards the end. It made me feel somewhat as though the book was never going to come to an end (although it could be argued that is a good thing!). Gaiman's novels are always exciting, crazy, and imaginative, and this is no exception. <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/American-Gods-Novel-Neil-Gaiman/dp/0060558121?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">American Gods</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0060558121" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></span> made me re-appreciate the value of stories, old and new. People tend to reflect themselves in their fables, which is why fables are timeless and those who can tell compelling, illuminating, humorous or fascinating stories just should.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-86888530690358584882010-01-15T16:32:00.005+11:002010-03-25T02:16:54.959+11:00Perdido Street Station by China Miéville<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMrA03R5QlPTjG_k8y5LTQg_26KXBjIAfZxi-MDmVFSTdsUYQMKOk4Hf3IKTfpPxbN03zsXrDjxC44X0Nj5ZZb1RfiLte2S9qU0EjyC8D4vbtej-dfOZNopBGjhnW091hXGxFW4PYno_F/s1600-h/000agsk1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426839481201538178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMrA03R5QlPTjG_k8y5LTQg_26KXBjIAfZxi-MDmVFSTdsUYQMKOk4Hf3IKTfpPxbN03zsXrDjxC44X0Nj5ZZb1RfiLte2S9qU0EjyC8D4vbtej-dfOZNopBGjhnW091hXGxFW4PYno_F/s200/000agsk1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 130px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Perdido-Street-Station-China-Mieville/dp/0330392891?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Perdido Street Station</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0330392891" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> is set in the jumbled, ramshackle, festering metropolis of New Crobuzon. Situated at the cross section of three major rivers, New Crobuzon is run by fascistic militia-influenced government and crime lords alike. It's conglomeration of species, classes and criminals makes it a vast, cosmopolitan melting pot full of humans, cactus people, amphibious people, scarab-headed women, and Remade: people with various animal or mechanical parts grafted onto their bodies as punishment for their crimes.<br />
<br />
Isaac Dan der Grimnebulin, an 'outlaw scientist' as he likes to think of himself, receives a visitor one day in his cramped laboratory; Yagharek, a great bird-man from the desert. Yagharek seeks Isaac's help, because his wings have been mercilessly severed from his body in punishment for crimes against his people. He wants only one thing: to be returned to the air. To fly again.<br />
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Unbeknownst to them, Isaac and Yagharek's meeting has triggered a series of events that lead to a city-wide nightmare plague, the emergence of dream-eating monster moths, an other-worldy giant spider with human hands and a terrifying insanity, an enormous trash heap with a brain, and various other ghouls from the deep, cavernous pits of Miéville's mind. New Crobuzon feels authentically like a city; a whole and complete place in your imagination - I almost felt that I could buy a ticket to Perdido Street Station and wind up right in the middle of it. Miéville is a complete poet. His language is convoluted and multi-layered, but worth every re-read sentence.<br />
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I oddly find Miéville's characters completely unrelatable - I tend to find his protagonists annoying, and in this case it was no different. I felt more sympathy towards Yagharek, until right at the end. I can't decide if my inability to really like Miéville's heroes is a personal thing, or if it's down to poor writing or actual intent. I doubt it's poor writing - but I have to speak to some other Miéville-ites in order to tell if it's just me, or if the characters are written that way. Despite them though, once again, the story - the great and fantastic story - outweighs anything else, and I was drawn in to the last word. I marvel and wonder at the immensity of the imagination of the man who writes these incredible settings, unbelieveably complex cultures and languages and physiques. China Miéville, I salute you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-39016034914271735262009-12-24T20:30:00.003+11:002010-03-25T02:13:02.968+11:00Merry Christmas<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4210793190_fdbbec7366.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4210793190_fdbbec7366.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 375px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></a><br />
<br />
Merry Christmas bookworms. :)<br />
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Hope there is a giant pile of delicious books under your tree this year!<br />
<br />
P.S. Sorry for the hiatus here, I have been travelling and things have been a bit hectic. I promise posts will pick up in the new year. Happy holidays!<br />
<br />
Evie~<br />
xxUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-47251419970848334502009-11-24T02:42:00.003+11:002010-03-25T02:25:38.221+11:00Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFAjhpsI-AQ8aiPiFcnXSleERkeUtcSpmvvt-xLHvGFBxGCJwahp38cYrEpziN5W28yICzzHXbG_8SjgzYs0Oxxol7etFMp9kSd_cqIHC66cs7t3A8uj0Mu9SmzfJW9m72_iiZXNJkACY/s1600/bfastattiffanys-500pi.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407325958619799794" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFAjhpsI-AQ8aiPiFcnXSleERkeUtcSpmvvt-xLHvGFBxGCJwahp38cYrEpziN5W28yICzzHXbG_8SjgzYs0Oxxol7etFMp9kSd_cqIHC66cs7t3A8uj0Mu9SmzfJW9m72_iiZXNJkACY/s200/bfastattiffanys-500pi.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 130px;" /></a><br />
This highly acclaimed book is nothing short of a delightful, truly American little quip of a read. Weighing in at just 100 pages, it manages to illustrate a host of characters, places and situations between so few pieces of paper it actually almost reads the way a movie feels: like a brief but very detailed... tangible glimpse into another person's world.<br />
<br />
The novella's narrator is an incomplete character; his real name is ambiguous (I thought) and he seems to serve mainly as a voyeur of Holly Golightly's life. However there is more to him, for example in the opening line of the book: <i>"I am always drawn back to places I have lived; the houses and their neighbourhoods."</i> – we immediately start to build a sense of him, and that sense is pieced together throughout the novella in bits, though never quite making a whole. It is through this hazy character's eyes that the reader sees Miss Golightly, though in a slightly rose-tinted hue.<br />
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Holly Golightly is a young woman living alone in New York - hosting parties at her tiny (largely unfurnished) apartment, dancing in exclusive clubs with sailors, horse-riding in Central Park, and yes, dreaming of breakfast at Tiffany's. She is remarkable because, as this story was written in 1958, she lives in a time when women are not usually so outlandish. She is bold, smart, independent, beautiful and talented, although, like all the best characters, she is largely flawed and lost. She is on the run from a guilty past and, it seems, is quite trapped by the life and identity she has built herself in New York. She is secretive, even <i>secretly</i> secretive. She doesn't want to let on who she really is, and as such wears the many masks of the social butterfly (but wears them gloriously).<br />
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Truman Capote is arguably one of the best American writers of the latter 20th century, and in this - probably his most famous - novella, he demonstrates why with style, sensitivity and a precision of character betraying his astuteness. He maintains a great balance between aesthetics (which are a delight) and intellectual intrigue. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Breakfast-at-Tiffanys-Three-Stories/dp/0606192166?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The edition</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0606192166" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> I picked up (above) also contained three of his short stories: <i>House of Flowers</i>, <i>Diamond Guitar</i> and <i>A Christmas Memory</i>, all of which adhere to what I've said about his writing and left an excellent impression on me – and a deep burning desire to read <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cold-Blood-Truman-Capote/dp/0141182571?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">In Cold Blood</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0141182571" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i>, the praises of which I have heard sung endlessly by many friends! One for the bookshop amnesia list, methinks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-20889473797766045452009-11-12T01:37:00.003+11:002010-03-25T02:40:56.073+11:00World's End by T. Coraghessan Boyle<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjQhk2_whWHz5TbT92TzZ3UrWEJpeaxxCCBHFY3U2d8dDSawej0uRz4oA5oHhS_qUnYSjjfe2jV44htx9TJNVlLsBSA_cI-77NpFUMffwZrAPFpw8jV7Z6r6rsVf90vjIVKCl5MuGO6KPE/s1600-h/n130764.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402855708440410850" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjQhk2_whWHz5TbT92TzZ3UrWEJpeaxxCCBHFY3U2d8dDSawej0uRz4oA5oHhS_qUnYSjjfe2jV44htx9TJNVlLsBSA_cI-77NpFUMffwZrAPFpw8jV7Z6r6rsVf90vjIVKCl5MuGO6KPE/s200/n130764.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 128px;" /></a><br />
This expansive novel is a great demonstration of Boyle's literary prowess. Despite the fact that at times I found it hard to chew, <span style="font-style: italic;">World's End </span>taught me lots of things, broadened my perspectives and took me to places in my thoughtscape I hadn't previously ventured. Spanning three historical eras in New York's Hudson Valley area, it tells a moving tale of family lost & found, consequences, history's relevance & the human need to act on beliefs.<br />
<br />
Walter Van Brunt is a despondent kid looking for trouble; or at least his real father, a selfish traitor by all accounts and solely responsible for his mother's death. Walter's father, Truman, starts appearing to him in visions one fateful night which culminates in a motorbike accident. The accident sets Walter on a journey in search of truth – truth about his family, the past and himself. Along the way he meets Mardi Van Wart, a sexy, rebellious drifter, & her father Depeyster, a hugely rich businessman and conservative who knew Truman in the days before the catalytic 1949 riots.<br />
<br />
In the late 1600s, the Van Brunts and the Van Warts were already involved in one another's lives – and in similar circumstances. Boyle evokes colonial New York with a master's skill. The farms, rolling hills, Indian tribes and sugarloaf hats of the Dutch settlers jump from the page into your mind's eye automatically; thus is the power of Boyle's command of language. He employs a playful exaggeration and cleverly constructed symbolism to demonstrate the extraordinary that can be found in the seemingly insignificant things.<br />
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While this novel is huge in that it spans generations, it doesn't spread its spindly fingers further than the grip of the few families involved in the story, and as such feels much more personal. I suppose you could even say it was a family saga of sorts, speckled with the odd curse, ghost or convenient coincidence. Labels aside, <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Worlds-End-Contemporary-American-Fiction/dp/0140299939?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">World's End</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0140299939" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></span> is a compelling, tragic story unlike any I've read before which makes you question whether history is destined to repeat itself, or whether perhaps we have more choice in the matter. Is like father really like son?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-21306616859656843442009-11-11T02:43:00.003+11:002010-03-25T02:47:12.577+11:00Number9Dream by David Mitchell<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm72_grjtUYBMtk__Y5XCgm3p5siLxZ161OJrdpKl1kfvw3HFn5fMwdATmDyzZwkE4d0itjuHCxV-XL8gCyyJJOavD4S8kBSy-zTjQ5WQPLkZ2xpzktx3-nmDX9ToRjysYNqBxv4EQMF5T/s1600-h/0007f17g.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402501732771287938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm72_grjtUYBMtk__Y5XCgm3p5siLxZ161OJrdpKl1kfvw3HFn5fMwdATmDyzZwkE4d0itjuHCxV-XL8gCyyJJOavD4S8kBSy-zTjQ5WQPLkZ2xpzktx3-nmDX9ToRjysYNqBxv4EQMF5T/s200/0007f17g.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 129px;" /></a><br />
Although <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Number9Dream-David-Mitchell/dp/0812966929?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Number9dream</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0812966929" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i> differs from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ghostwritten-David-Mitchell/dp/0375724508?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Ghostwritten</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0375724508" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i> and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cloud-Atlas-Novel-David-Mitchell/dp/0375507256?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Cloud Atlas</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0375507256" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i> in that it is the telling of one story throughout - that being the story of Eiji Miyake, a 19-year-old Japanese boy who comes to Tokyo from his small island home in search of his long-lost father - it is just as all-encompassing, if not more so, than Mitchell's preceding and following novels. <i>Number9dream</i> is structurally defined by eight chapters, nine if you include the final, blank one. Each chapter flits between two narratives, Eiji's story and in each chapter something else - whether it be Eiji's fantasy-world, dreams, children's stories, a wartime journal, or letters. Basically it is as full and rich as any of Mitchell's others, taking you up, down, through and welding you to his character - Eiji - in the most captivating and interesting way.<br />
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I of course loved every word of it, am at a loss to describe how it made me feel, and the impressions of Tokyo I felt from it. All the hysterical, fantastical, violent and euphoric experiences Eiji has subsequent to his few weeks in Tokyo, real or imagined, broaden the understanding of him and fling you into a deep sympathy with him. His story is many-layered, full of coincidence, adventure, romance, daring, misfortune and friendship... and in the end, even though he claims that he feels <i>"sad that I found what I searched for, but no longer want what I found”</i>, it is his journey that is the most important thing - and it's stories like that which I like best... probably because they are cohesive with my own life theories.<br />
<br />
I adore Mitchell's writing, and I've read everything he's published. He's one of my favourite authors & if you haven't read anything by him before, this one would be a great place to start. Go get lost in his surprising metaphors, riveting plots & turn of phrase that makes you gasp in delight. You can thank me later!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-3155839175223045772009-11-07T00:37:00.001+11:002009-11-07T00:40:53.290+11:00Holiday Reading<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1Pv89Ft89u9IbmArBXWHWbHKyvxbw2D1nrKiRQa1f1bV0-cNbPbsBwPGiSLpzY0rOl8_0ItUUZMjYWCrUT_HiDwjre9xsI_Iqejbb5UD-icZhZgSPLduvPMWZmnpbfGXAmxgi4XP0vOJ/s1600-h/haifa+982.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1Pv89Ft89u9IbmArBXWHWbHKyvxbw2D1nrKiRQa1f1bV0-cNbPbsBwPGiSLpzY0rOl8_0ItUUZMjYWCrUT_HiDwjre9xsI_Iqejbb5UD-icZhZgSPLduvPMWZmnpbfGXAmxgi4XP0vOJ/s400/haifa+982.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400984828444126386" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>Holiday reading is the best. Especially if you're fortunate enough to find a hammock to do it in! </div><div><br /></div><div>What's your favourite holiday read?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-36712924631027772372009-11-06T23:50:00.005+11:002010-03-25T02:49:11.147+11:00The Naked Drinking Club by Rhona Cameron<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIOTe0K1cAC7USSGkpYw7dNe2ymxgsq05pO4xcnLhkVOq38w76COQayAMn0W9kIpY5IAXXdtR4KBf8fPAnlU0mV1j4mcfDi_8YlVYiux-2OTmJlN2iCOXgzO1Upm5I80XONGtlVBdY6GW/s1600-h/0009bd58.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400973748879877682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIOTe0K1cAC7USSGkpYw7dNe2ymxgsq05pO4xcnLhkVOq38w76COQayAMn0W9kIpY5IAXXdtR4KBf8fPAnlU0mV1j4mcfDi_8YlVYiux-2OTmJlN2iCOXgzO1Upm5I80XONGtlVBdY6GW/s200/0009bd58.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 122px;" /></a><br />
<div>Ok, I'll be honest. I picked up this book for three superficial reasons:</div>1) It is set in Australia<br />
2) The title (and sub-title, which reads: "drunk, disorderly & down under")<br />
3) Russell Brand's endorsement on the front.<br />
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Lame, I know. But there is a bit more to this book than meets the eye, although I'm going to say right now that it didn't meet the potential I thought it had. There were some really insightful moments and some truly tragic scenes, and some scarily precise depictions of destructive and hedonistic behaviour. At times, though, Cameron's writing brought the whole thing down, and it occasionally read like a piece of chick-lit fluff.<br />
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Kerry arrives in Sydney plastered and with her tongue down a stranger's throat. She has drunk sex with him for a few days before wandering off to Glebe to find a job and start on her 'mission' - the reason she left Edinburgh. When she starts working for a company called ART, selling mass-produced paintings door-to-door (flogging them as originals), the path of her destiny seems to lead her into increasingly more bizarre circumstances. Day-long binges of alcohol and drugs, sex with strangers, drunk phone calls to her grandfather in Scotland, and the intriguing banter with her boss, Anaya, keep Kerry on her toes and in a confusing whirlwind - and, seemingly, away from her ultimate goal.<br />
<br />
Just underneath the surface of all this partying and promiscuity is real heart: Kerry is a broken girl, and she's looking for something to heal her. The characters are touching and true, the setting of Sydney sizzles with its unique vivacity, and the emotional desperation and tenseness builds well throughout the story. There was just a little - I don't know. Something held this book back from being the moving, imprint-leaving novel it had all the ingredients to be. Having said that, it is Cameron's debut - and by day she is a comedienne... so perhaps that's why it felt so light at times. I enjoyed it - there were some really hilarious moments and it maintained a level of frankness that would make the bluntest comedians blush. <br />
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</div><div>Maybe it didn't come to be what I thought it could be. But as it is, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Drinking-Club-Rhona-Cameron/dp/0091901847?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Naked Drinking Club</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0091901847" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /></i> interesting, fun, tragic and outrageous with subtle, dark tones. Weightier than your average beach read.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-90002268689390981942009-11-06T23:25:00.005+11:002010-03-25T02:56:00.238+11:00Notes from a Big Country by Bill Bryson<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtv6WTpsdflKN_8fc8aKzjkG30DGEot2HkmI-Ak_4vp_MinCK8uDZgU_erCgDU1VTEaq07zeZYmPqpu9LyXOdOW64bKyZdYzf7xRaEDhZqIGVbdHd2-rdRI6c_NafWxe0fu47CZEX0JzZ/s1600-h/s640x480.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400968730731427554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtv6WTpsdflKN_8fc8aKzjkG30DGEot2HkmI-Ak_4vp_MinCK8uDZgU_erCgDU1VTEaq07zeZYmPqpu9LyXOdOW64bKyZdYzf7xRaEDhZqIGVbdHd2-rdRI6c_NafWxe0fu47CZEX0JzZ/s200/s640x480.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 128px;" /></a><br />
Hilarious. I can't say much else about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/NOTES-BIG-COUNTRY-Bill-Bryson/dp/B000O8PPEO?ie=UTF8&tag=evie08-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">this book</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=evie08-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B000O8PPEO" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" />. It speaks for itself just to say that I convinced Uri (my fiancé, who makes up for my overzealous approach to reading with his laxness) to read one chapter and he is now hooked and reading (and re-reading!) the whole thing. Really it is a collection of columns that Bryson wrote for the <i>Mail on Sunday </i>when he picked up and moved his family and his whole life back to his home country after living in England for 25 years or so. It's a strange dynamic, having an American who is almost an Englishman reporting about America's quirks and attributes, trying to re-adjust to life in the USA. But Bryson is just too funny - turning a simple trip to the post office into an hilarious anecdote and sometimes letting his taste for the British outrageous humour ride a long wave, becoming somewhat rant-like, but never losing its edge and wit. The short, sharp injections of humour make it all the more enjoyable, as there is never much downtime. It's just about laugh after laugh.<br />
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Bryson's thoughts and rantings are also well-researched. Although these columns were published in the late 90s and therefore some of his statistics and facts might be a little stale now, reading them in his context keeps them relevant. And funny! Some of the information he uncovers and brings to light is shocking, some ridiculous, some unbelievable. But it gets you thinking about things you otherwise probably wouldn't have noticed or looked in to. And while there might be some light jeering, there is no America-bashing at all - Bryson makes it clear he is very fond of his homeland. If you look, you can find things to jeer at anywhere! Actually, that might just be one of Bill Bryson's life theories. <br />
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</div><div>Warning: do not read in public places, unless you don't mind being that weirdo on the bus giggling hysterically into a book.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-52240042211884146192009-10-28T11:20:00.003+11:002009-10-28T11:28:17.051+11:00Nights At The Circus by Angela Carter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_Z57w-QeXAniTi1CLL6O96MQ0fSAAjjikyFTsG-ZMsTKRTVLc6k3bOYW_yFvuXWSIDS20rVTnb6S3AerkkWcOPD9UD118hY_nR2woyEO_QjP9udwoP-78ueF8RT6__k-2LypNy9HWSnu/s1600-h/nights_at_the_circus.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_Z57w-QeXAniTi1CLL6O96MQ0fSAAjjikyFTsG-ZMsTKRTVLc6k3bOYW_yFvuXWSIDS20rVTnb6S3AerkkWcOPD9UD118hY_nR2woyEO_QjP9udwoP-78ueF8RT6__k-2LypNy9HWSnu/s200/nights_at_the_circus.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397441064151890754" /></a><br />Sophie Fevvers: Flight or Fancy? Fevvers (as she is affectionately called) is a celebrated aerialiste, a larger-than-life trapeze artist of the most unique kind: she has wings. The public adore her, madmen want to make a human(?) sacrifice of her, Grand Dukes attempt seduction. Who is she, though? And more importantly - is she real? Such are the questions on the lips of American journalist Jack Walser, who decides to depart from his familiar territory of war & disaster reporting, and concentrate on a more 'human interest' angle. Initially, he interviews Fevvers simply for her 'thus far' story, but decides it is not enough and, thinly disguised as a clown, joins the circus of which she is a star performer and follows her to Petersburg and beyond. I'd like to say "hilarious consequences ensue", but in <i>Nights At The Circus</i> the hilariousness of the events that unfold (and there ARE moments of extreme hilarity) is outweighed, for the most part, by shock, gruesomeness, and all-too-serious ridiculousness.<br /><br />A book that seems at first glance to be a bit of a fancy turns into a much more serious look at psyche, tribalism, cruelty, endurance, love, and the absurd. From what I gleaned from the intro by Sarah Waters that preceded the edition I read, Carter's writing is often like this. She is spoken of as a 'magical realist', and I can see why - but I think this novel is a bit like an ocean - sparkly and wondrous on top but with dark, hidden depths of endless foreboding possibility. The 'magical' element is more of an enchantment, and certainly not a flimsy, Potter-esque sorcery. Waters opines in her intro that <i>Nights At The Circus</i> is Carter's masterpiece; and also the most 'engaging and accessible' of her fictions, which very much intrigues me to read some of Carter's other work.<br /><br />It is a huge novel; geographically spanning from London to Siberia but also the characters emotional journeys are diverse and all-encompassing. Carter's writing has an odd and unique style - she is a queen of metaphor, a lover of detail and a master of significance; foretelling; symbolism. Some paragraphs are so lush they hook you right in to their seams, some are so bland they reel you out to their perimeters. At times I was smiling, laughing, wincing, gasping, praying - eyes glued to the page, willing them with all my might not to skip ahead in anticipation... I mean, not every chapter was compelling, some were downright listless, but once again, I am loath to criticise as when you reach the end of a good book, you realise even the bits you didn't like reading at the time were just necessary elements of the incredible whole.<br /><br />The characters are colourful and sometimes astounding - I suppose that almost automatically comes with the setting of a circus. I remember (like most kids?) wanting to run away with the circus when I was little, after I read a book set in one, but Carter did not glamourise or romanticise the circus in that way. It became appealing seeing it through Walser's eyes, (he DID run away with the circus) - the dirt, the animosity, chimps wearing clothes, tigers dancing, elephants stamping their chained feet, clowns endlessly tumbling and playing, music everywhere, the wondrous and spectacular becoming the 'norm', the extreme characters, the buzz and frivolity of the routine... all rolled up into one bright, bustling, vibrant, multicoloured mass of molecular dazzle - a Circus. Although Fevvers, her foster-mother Lizzie, and Walser are all intensely interesting characters - it was the Circus itself which stole my attention the whole way through making the rest fall under its brilliant light. I liked <i>Nights At The Circus</i>, even though the plot sometimes disagreed with me, and I was occasionally confused. I like that it was different, exciting, weird and wonderful. I like what I came to know of Angela Carter, and hope to explore her work further. I recommend it if you're looking for something a little different, with plenty of rich language and stories within stories; bizarre characters and iridescent settings. I think it is essentially feminist: Fevvers comes into her own and kicks off all labels and categories, to finally speak for herself.... which, of course, resonated with me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-72640756380687478962009-10-23T01:11:00.002+11:002009-10-23T01:16:06.427+11:00Complete Prose by Woody Allen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWgHg0Z85RIDABvArGg2mw4I6b_W3h6EEYmch7-FqkPOQRhOVukp3l4jsYD32_r520U-AmkFgRj_mSdf-VLqHMAyttvWVDuBQf6Qgxux-glDIqXscxJsjEJOqv9kZMqgjmLLwR-ceD8xS/s1600-h/woody.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWgHg0Z85RIDABvArGg2mw4I6b_W3h6EEYmch7-FqkPOQRhOVukp3l4jsYD32_r520U-AmkFgRj_mSdf-VLqHMAyttvWVDuBQf6Qgxux-glDIqXscxJsjEJOqv9kZMqgjmLLwR-ceD8xS/s200/woody.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395427918529258146" border="0" /></a><br />This collection of Woody Allen's prose consists of three books: <span style="font-style: italic;">Without Feathers</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Getting Even</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Side Effects</span>. If ever a collection of words made me laugh out loud (or, more accurately, guffaw) it's this. Allen's prose sometimes reads like lots of one-liners strung together, sometimes farcical and sometimes outrageous, sometimes insightful and mostly absurd; but always hilarious. He has a real knack for characters (as we know from his films) and highlights with ease the absurdity of people, institutions and situations. With over 50 short stories brought together in this volume, it's difficult to choose a favourite. <span style="font-style: italic;">If the Impressionists Had Been Dentists</span> (which you can read <a href="http://queen-evie.livejournal.com/157386.html">here</a> if you're interested) was up there, but the detective story with God as the missing person was a classic, as was the Chess by correspondence, or Hitler's hairdresser's journal. Allen cracks his satirical whip over many aspects of society with such sharp wit and decadence you actually feel fuelled by his words - or at least I did. The extent of his absurdism (which I understand is quite Groucho Marx-esque, although I have never read any of Groucho's work) is such that, while laughing hysterically you are simultaneously a little outraged by the clarity that the ridiculousness unveils… or perhaps it was meant to be read a little lighter than that and I just got carried away, hehe.<br /><br />In any case, an excellent read, probably something normal readers would enjoy picking up, reading a chapter of and putting down again every so often - although I've never been good at that (plus it was a library loan). I'm such a ridiculously straight reader; I have to read each page in succession until the end! If you're a Groucho fan, or an Allen fan, or an absurdism fan - definitely pick this one up.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-53044432948407108212009-10-21T01:32:00.003+11:002009-10-21T01:41:09.316+11:00No one belongs here more than you. Stories by Miranda July<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPx30VkShajG3cqHAKqUzD8TcD3YKGYA4gzb57M1GLdulFrQiCU6kgkRuurvow00WOLCZrTQjlc-_0xwj8Snv-fk46FumyXHNtP0nS6P9g8Zh3cnofHi0UuLMA1G0fgqRrCY1KSg-6WwT/s1600-h/0009qftb.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPx30VkShajG3cqHAKqUzD8TcD3YKGYA4gzb57M1GLdulFrQiCU6kgkRuurvow00WOLCZrTQjlc-_0xwj8Snv-fk46FumyXHNtP0nS6P9g8Zh3cnofHi0UuLMA1G0fgqRrCY1KSg-6WwT/s200/0009qftb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394692188095579234" /></a><br /><div>This enchanting collection of short stories (many of them previously published elsewhere) show Miranda July's fascinating perspective, sensitivity, wit and scope of understanding with edginess and vivacity. It confirms what I already thought of her from seeing her film <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0415978/">Me and You and Everyone We Know</a></i> - that she has incredible insight and comprehension of human psyche - and a unique creative voice in her writing.</div><br />Every story is touching, deeply personal and often heart-wrenching or hilarious. She always writes in the first person, I notice - possibly a habit carried over from acting? Anyway, her characters tend to delve into fantasy realms in their heads, to avoid the harsh brunt of reality. In one story, a middle-aged man ignores the gay come-on of a colleague by fantasising about said colleague's (non-existant) underage sister. In another, a woman constructs a romance in her head with her epileptic Korean neighbour. One of my favourites tells the story of a girl who is "fucked" by a "dark shape" as a teenager, develops a relationship with the shape and is therefore unable to date actual men. When the dark shape stops visiting her in the night, she breaks her silence and people think she was sexually abused by a family member. She then recognises her 'shape' in the eyes of one of her teenage special needs pupils, and they develop a relationship. All of the stories broke my heart in one way or another - July has a way of delving into the deepest darkest recesses of her characters' minds, and pulling out such profundity it's sometimes scary.<br /><br />Overall, it made me question our classifications of 'sane' and 'normal' - from reading her narratives it seems everyone is a little bit freaky, everyone has their neurosis... and from this stems the idea that the public world is just one huge mask behind which we all sit twitching with our individual personality tics. I love July for setting me on this train of thought - it's so interesting and one she explores so fearlessly in her work - film, writing, performance or otherwise. This is a gem of book, I urge you to read it and laugh and cry and laugh.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7871690049998209069.post-31650362309694920292009-10-21T00:16:00.003+11:002009-10-21T02:23:37.778+11:00The Lollipop Shoes* by Joanne Harris<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGgh2zia2SiL_QFVbwJY9Wd79YEDwPDsnguR_lr9jPzYRxLYfcLhFjFJff4yMjBxFOfvVidE2MxUgn4LpzqOmXxQa6SzTKvNosaCQ584Q1kO8zzO5_lkMtzeBfeGUOXWkLTJWSwTyiKBH/s1600-h/000ccseh.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 129px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGgh2zia2SiL_QFVbwJY9Wd79YEDwPDsnguR_lr9jPzYRxLYfcLhFjFJff4yMjBxFOfvVidE2MxUgn4LpzqOmXxQa6SzTKvNosaCQ584Q1kO8zzO5_lkMtzeBfeGUOXWkLTJWSwTyiKBH/s200/000ccseh.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394671113219055234" /></a><br />If I have one major complaint about Joanne Harris, it's that all her books are a bit same-ish, thus making her work somewhat predictable. Then again, this could be a favourable quality – you know what you're going to get with her and in my opinion, the standard is high.<br /><br />Obviously I loved<i> Chocolat</i>; full of delicious, cocoa-dusted confectionary and Harris' own brand of magic. And all the other books of hers I've read (<i>Holy Fools</i>, <i>Coastliners</i>, <i>Blackberry Wine</i>) have had that same mystical quality that makes her work just… scrumptious. <i>The Lollipop Shoes</i> is no exception, with all the sensitivity, sensuality and spice of a Joanne Harris book and a little dollop of black magic to boot.<br /><br />Picking up four years after <i>Chocolat</i> ends, we find Vianne & Anouk in very different circumstances. Now known as Yanne and Annie, they live a quiet life above a dusty <i>chocolaterie</i> in Montmartre, attempting normalcy and anonymity. They even succeed for a time, Yanne wearing black shoes and Pantoufle just a vague shadow at Annie's heels. But the wind never stays quiet for long, and one afternoon in late autumn Zozie de l'Alba comes blowing into their lives on it. Vibrant, exciting & mysterious, she's a hard package to ignore, and Annie (now 12) is especially taken with her vivacious shoe collection.<br /><br />Helping Yanne with the shop and Annie with her school troubles, Zozie seems like a godsend. But Zozie, with her knowledge of voodoo and Aztec magic, has a hidden agenda, and her sinister plans will shake their quiet new world to its fragile core.<br /><br />It is written from three different perspectives in alternating chapters: Zozie's, Yanne's and Annie's. While I love Harris' style of writing which she imbues with such flavour, I don't think she quite got the hang of the shifting narratives. Their voices didn't change much – it was like the same actor reading three parts in the same way. That said, it was her usual high quality of emotive and fragrant prose which made <i>The Lollipop Shoes</i> pleasurable for me. And I think it's accurate to say that if you love one of Harris' books, you'll love them all.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*published in the US as <i>The Girl With No Shadow</i></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0