Last year (only two blogs down – I haven’t used this outlet
very much) I listed all the books I read in 2012. And I’m going to do it again
as I’ve decided to record everything I ever do in list form, even bowel
movements.
Anyway, like in 2012 I had the unlikely target of reading 50
books within the year. Did I do it? No, 50 is too much unless you enjoy nothing
other than reading. But I do, 2013’s biggest time drain being the
garden/allotment as usual. No Olympics (or Skyrim) in 2013 though so maybe I
managed more than the 20 I read in 2012. (spoiler) I did and not only because
most of the books were shorter than the A Song Of ice And Fire doorstops I read
that year. Read on…
I liked the Olympics. No, really, you
wouldn’t have guessed but I liked the Olympics. Not to such a level that I felt
bereaved afterwards and empty for months, no, just a nice normal level. So I
picked up this autobiography of Britain’s favourite female cyclist…after Laura
Trott. The story of an athlete dedicating their entire life to a sporting goal
does not a gripping story make. Any “trauma” is ratcheted up about 10 notches
on the drama scale in an attempt to make it like a thriller, but in Pendleton’s
hands it just comes across as whining. The worst thing she had to deal with was
questions about the suitability of her relationship with a member of the
British cycling squad. Descriptions of races amount to “I did a pedal and
settled into second place, but then did a bit more of a pedal and finished in
first”.
Anyone who has read this book and seen the
film of the same name is obliged to say that there is zero similarity between
the two. The book is better. I’d obviously decided to start 2013 in a gentle
way, nothing so far could be described as challenging or even particularly
worthy of my time.
Another autobiography. But at least not by
a sporting celebrity, therefore there is generally more to it than descriptions
of a race and attempts to find some dark secret to justify writing the thing.
Mitchell is funny obviously, and the bits
about dating Victoria Coren are surprisingly open and really rather sweet. But
is there a need to hear the life story about a funny TV comic? You see, Rik
Mayall’s rather unreadable autobiog at least contained details about his
quad-bike crash and offered an insight into the effects of such an accident,
both immediately after it happened and the long-term problems that arose from
it. Mitchell on the other hand had a nice childhood, went to Cambridge and then
got on telly. He’s a funny writer but also, to me, disappointingly conservative
in his views sometimes.
The Time Traveller’s Guide To Medieval
England was a good read and sold well, hence this follow-up. But it does have
diminishing returns, whereas there are differences between English life in 1300
and how people lived in the late sixteenth century they really aren’t great
enough to justify such a big book. Because of this Mortimer concentrates on
what has differed, clothing for
instance. And this is the worst bit of the book, reading about the macabre and
cruel punishments dished out to supposed miscreants is fascinating, fifty pages
about the clothes worn by different classes of men and women is not. The book
suffers from this uneasy flow between being interesting and then dull
thoughout.
Okay, look, two things:
a)
I really loved the Olympics
b)
I didn’t just read biographies in 2013.
If Vicky Pendleton could be
accused of making mountains out of molehills in her book, then Ennis is guilty of
making Olympus Mons out of atoms in hers. What is her deep trauma that drives
her on to being an Olympic great? She was called names once at school. Racist
names? No, someone just teased her about her size once.
Jessica Ennis does come across as
lovely as she does on the telly, but this sweet naivety does not lead to a
great read. You are so dedicated to the one goal as a sporting person – to be
the best in your field - that there is no time for anything else in your life
and you remain insulated from what is going on in the world around you. So
you’re not going to get Jessica Ennis’s opinion on multiculturalism, just as
you wouldn’t find out Peter Shilton’s view about Palestine in his book ‘I Did A
Save’ or discover what Darren Gough thinks about the decline of heavy industry
in his native Yorkshire in his award winning book ‘I Ran In and Chucked a
Corky’.
It was the best of times, it was the worst
of times. It was a mawkish book, it was a mawkish book.
Dickens really was a Victorian
sentimentalist. I bought every Dickens book last year (they were on sale in the
work canteen (!)) and was going to wade through every one. But even as an
oversentimental fool that’d be too much redemption and sacrifice for one year.
I did plan to read A Christmas Carol over Papa Noel’s holiday but got
distracted by giant toblerones and mozzarella sticks.
Ben Moor’s brief light-hearted book,
containing three readings/plays he’d performed. They’re amusing without being
funny.
If you like history and fantasy then who
should you read? Bernard Cornwell! This is the first of three Cornwell books I
read in 2013. A Cornwell book will not live with you after you’ve closed it,
which I suppose is a bad thing, yet you will chug through it at a great pace to
find out what happens next. That is a good thing. This is actually the latest
in a series where I haven’t read any of the others. But it doesn’t matter, the
events of previous books are inconsequential to what happens here. Isn’t that a
bad thing though? Nothing happened in 2500 pages split across four books that
meaningfully impacted on the main character in this one? That’s why they don’t
stick with you once you’ve finished it. If you picked up book 5 of A Song Of
Ice & Fire you’d be lost, book 5 of the story of Uthred effectively starts
from scratch.
A brief look at what lies beneath the
streets of London: the Underground, plague pits, Roman ruins and old rivers. I
do always enjoy Peter Ackroyd’s history writing, he’s very accessible in what
he writes and it can drag you along through a book. You learn and enjoy
yourself, what people now call Entercation. See later, for some historians who
don’t do this as well. Also for an Ackroyd book that I didn’t enjoy.
Congratulations to Lyn Macdonald for
winning the ‘Grimmest Book I Read This Year’ for the second year in a row!
Somme is a harrowing, often heartbreaking telling of the Battle Of The Somme,
mainly though the words of survivors of the battle (it was written in the early
eighties) and often using accounts from those who didn’t live to see the end of
the conflict. Macdonald ties all this together brilliantly, giving a clear
description of the battle, from the preparation through to the disastrous
conclusion. Some of the testimonies from ordinary soldiers rank amongst the
most powerful things I’ve ever read, bringing out the horror of the situation
in eloquent, distressing ways. No horror writer could match the prose used here
to describe the practically unimaginable
horrors.
The book above depressed me so much that I
trawled through my bookcase immediately after finishing it for the lightest
thing I owned. And I found this beat-up copy of Pratchett’s first Discworld
novel, water damaged from living in a damp loft for 20 years. I haven’t read a
Pratchett book in over 15 years but you could still feel the difference between
this and his latter work. He’s finding his feet here, corny jokes and farce
abound whereas I believe the later books are more serious and satirical.
Still bummed out from Somme, I then read a
Danny Wallace novel. And surprisingly it’s every bit as grim as Somme, often
reducing the reader to tears with the heavyweight harrowing writing style of
the former best mate of Dave Gorman.
No, of course, it’s froth. Mildly amusing
nonsense. But I liked it, it was fun. I read it in just over a day. But can now
barely remember what happened in it. But what do you expect, it’s A Danny
Wallace book.
In my post-Christmas lull I was looking for
other times of the year that were enjoyable. And I thought of reading this book
sat in my garden in spring. That was nice, watching bees fly around as I had a
drink and read this, the story of the first successful climb up Everest. It’s a
well written account of the climb and the personalities of those involved in
it.
I read this in the garden too and it’s
great. The story of Britain’s greatest frigate commander not called Nelson. And
he even challenges that man for military brilliance. With military commanders
from Georgian times it’s very hard to make them likeable, they were usually sadistic
dicks, but Stephen Taylor portrays Edward Pellew in a sympathetic light. He’s
human and makes faults (nepotism comes before doing a good job) but you feel
his heart – especially for the time – was in the right place.
Miles Jupp’s tale of blagging his way onto
an Indian cricket tour as a reporter is probably a tale so slight it didn’t
need telling. Jupp is obviously a nice fella and for a cricket fan it’s nice to
get an insight into what cricket people are actually like, yet nothing really
happens. Jupp gets the shits but he’s in India, everyone gets them there.
Hannah brought me back this book from Oslo.
The story of England towards the end of the Anglo-Saxon era and the start of
Norman times, all loosely tied together by Queen Emma, a Norman woman who
married first an Anglo-Saxon king and then a Viking one. The problem with
history from this time is that there is only a slim collection of historical
records to base any book upon so once you’ve read a few books from this time
(and I have) there is relatively little to tell. Doesn’t stop this being a good
book, I just think I’ve reached saturation point with it. Maybe I’ll just stick
with Cornwell’s books from this time instead.
‘If you loved Ripper Street then you’ll
like this’ says the sticker on the front. I did like Ripper Street so thought
I’d give it a try. One thing I will say for The Yard, it made me consider
taking up writing.
I’ve always wanted to write yet some
authors write in such an intimidating way, with a command of English I can
never match. This is off-putting, I’d be belmed out of any publisher’s office.
Yet The Yard makes me think maybe I have a chance after all, because whereas the
story here is passable (yet making the murderer known from early on removes any
tension from it), the writing is not the greatest. “If you wanted Dan Brown to
write Ripper Street then you’ll like this”.
Second Cornwell of the year. This is set in
er, 1356, leading up to the battle of Poitiers in The Hundred Years War.
Historically quite accurate and readable (like all his books seem to be), though
yet again it does not remain long in the brain. Just over 6 months after
reading it I can no longer remember anything of the plot. Or who the characters
were. Or how it ended. I just had to look up the synopsis on Amazon. Oh right,
yeah, Thomas of Hookton. Most of Cornwell’s books revolve around a gruff badass
beloved of the ladies, worshipped by his men and with extraordinary fighting
skills. Just think of a medieval Sharpe.
I do need to read more classics, I read
more at school then I have in the 20 years since I’ve left. Everyone knows what
happens in this book though, yeah? I’d never read it before though.
Philip Hoare wrote my favourite book of all
time, Leviathan. Some books I read in 2013 didn’t remain in my head five
minutes after finishing them, Leviathan still haunts my thoughts years after
reading it. The Sea Inside is essentially a dozen or so different tales and
thoughts about people/animals tied to the sea (some rather loosely such as
Hoare’s writing on ravens). It maintains Hoare’s lyrical prose seen in Leviathan
but without the one main subject that book had it lacks the focus or coherence
of his masterwork.
Back in the summer Fopp was selling all the
Jeeves books for under £2. So I bought all I could find having never read any
before. Whereas I can’t see how people become besotted in Wodehouse (the humour
is too gentle for modern tastes and the end of any story is effectively
signposted from the start) they are an enjoyable read and quick to blast
though. Yet I haven’t read anymore because Fopp didn’t have book 2 in the
series and Wodehouse asks me in the foreword for book 3 to read them in order.
I don’t want to disappoint the very dead man.
If you read my list of 2012 books you’ll
see I read the first three books in this series. They’re about a modern day
roz-boz in London who can do magic and the adventures he and the master wizard
get up to. The first one was great, the following two less so. This is a return
to form with a genuinely surprising ending. Looking forward to book 5, this
should be soon as he’s knocking them out at more than one a year.
Third Cornwell! Also set during The Hundred
Years War but at Agincourt (must be a misprint on the cover). Same as usual, I
can remember vaguely what it was about. I’m doing him a disservice, I obviously
enjoy them or else I wouldn’t have read three in one year.
Uh-oh, another sporting autobiography. This
was a difficult read as for large parts of it all it is is a list of cyclists
doing a race. Maybe if I liked cycling more then it’d be interesting but this
contains no information about Wiggins’ upbringing (that was in his first
autobiography) and a book essentially about the Tour de France makes a boring
read, just as the event itself makes a boring watch. As much as I love Team GB
they sure do write dull books.
My first – and only – fantasy book series
of the year. As is often the case with fantasy series the books are huge, with
maps inside and lists of characters at the back.
Shadowmarch is a slow start to what turned
out to be an enjoyable series, with the pace picking up to a largely satisfying
conclusion. There are a few moments when you question the motives of characters
(people fall in love too easily and without much evidence of attraction being
there) but any problems with characterisation is made up with the world built
by Tad Williams. By the end you feel there are a lot more stories that could be
told in this world. Williams has a vivid imagination and some good stories to
tell.
Hannah said it was her favourite book yet
I’d never read it. She also said that it may mean more to Catholics. Maybe it
does. How do some books become classics then? What differentiates a Brighton
Rock from a Bravo Two Zero? Well, bar the fact that one is well written and
thought-provoking. I mean, Bravo Two Zero is brilliant isn’t it? Ha ha ho de
ha.
Some people have interesting lives. Victor
Gregg fought in North Africa during WW2, was captured and involved in numerous
escapes from camps in Germany, then got caught up in the Dresden firestorm.
Thinking that he still needed more excitement in life he then became a
messenger in East Germany between people involved in the campaign for change
just before the fall of the Berlin Wall. Still, has he ever eaten 8 veggie hot
dogs in the same meal? Bet he hasn’t. Glenn 1 Victor 8.
Hannah bought me a box-set of books written
with a loose theme based around the London Underground. This is the first book
from that set, written by John O’Farrell. It essentially boils down to John
O’Farrell stating why he is a Labour supporter (and stood for election last
year) and almost an apology for being a nu-labour wet.
Of all the books in the London Underground
set this is the one most concerned about ‘The Tube’ itself (as you can tell by
its title). And it is probably the best one of the lot.
A history of Henry VII, this book won
awards a plenty when it came out. And I do have to say it’s meticulously
researched, there can’t be anything left unsaid about the time of Henry’s life
covered by the book. Yet, personally, I found it hard work, because it is very
dry and – the opposite of what others say in the quotes on the book – written
in that academic style that doesn’t exactly make the pages fly by. A lot of
fantasy books include a glossary of characters to help the reader along and
though this is not something done in a history book Winter King could really
use it. Penn is familiar with all the characters, a reader probably isn’t, especially
when a lot of characters are one minute referred to by their name and on the
next page by their title.
I can’t get enough of King Arthur (bring
back Merlin!). Yet this largely faithful version of Thomas Malory's’ Le Morte
d'Arthur’ by Peter Ackroyd was an almost painful read. The original Welsh tales
of King Arthur were filled out in the medieval period for the tastes of the
time: chivalry, courtly romance and buckets of Christianity. Malory sidelined
Arthur to concentrate on the pious knights that made up the Round Table and
their adventures. What follows is a twisty, often contradictory structureless
tale reading to modern eyes like something written by a primary school child.
“Then Lancelot laughed at the other knight and
killed him. Another knight then rode up, Lancelot killed him too then prayed to
God and an angel appeared and said he was wicked and must praise Jesus.”
For 300+ pages.
It’s not Ackroyd’s fault, but it’s 2014, we’re
better at telling stories now. Knights were dicks.
William Leith is scared of the Underground.
Mostly because of claustrophobia. This short tale is about that fear and how he
tried to face it one day.
Another London Underground book – this one
a brief history of Metroland and the floral and fauna contained within.
Book 2 of the Shadowmarch series
Book 3 of the Shadowmarch series
Book 4, blah de blah
A frankly tedious essay on social
differences between different stops on the London Underground central line. I
couldn’t wait for it to end. Tells you nothing you didn’t know (people live
longer in richer areas than poorer ones). Yeah, we know. I wouldn’t have minded
if the conclusion had been ‘let’s kill bankers!’. It wasn’t though, it’s an
essay, no opinions are allowed.
HHhH, Laurent Binet’s tale of the
assassination of premier dicksplash Reinhard Heydrich during WW2 is a
brilliant, enthralling and occasionally horrifying read about brave men doing
brave things, knowing that their actions will result in their own deaths and
horrific reprisals against innocents. You know, I’ll come out and say this and
it might shock you but I think the Nazis were bad people.
A twist in the telling that may annoy
others – but which I thought was interesting – is that Binet will often break
out of the story and describe his own feelings about what he’s writing and how
difficult it is write such a book dispassionately. Great book.
Sometimes books just infuriate me. This is
one such book.
Lucy Wadham tells the story about her
well-off family growing up in privileged West London. Looking at reviews people
seem enchanted about the story of her bohemian grandmother, drug addicted
sisters and square parents. I just loathed the lot of them.
The grandmother is an intellectual snob of
the worst kind, surrounding herself with people she felt were of the same
intelligence, but, of course, only as long as they came from the appropriate
social strata. What Wadham takes for a ‘free spiritedness’ in her beloved nan
is actually selfishness and an almost sociopathic lack of empathy for others.
The sisters are all talked about through
their glamorous drug addictions but it reads as a game, when you’re rich you
know that there will always be ‘Daddy’ there to ensure you’ll be well looked after
if things go wrong. But that safety net isn’t there if you’re out of your mind
in a Preston drug den / Chinese restaurant. Your dad is probably not going to
put you in an expensive rehab clinic if you’re poor. All the sisters have this
anti-authority stance that pisses me off coming from the privileged; it reads
as false as anything that deceitful fake Julie Burchill ever wrote about
understanding the working class. It’s all safe and without risk. You’re still
rich at the end of it all.
And the parents are the key to it all this
hatefulness – that well-off parent’s disinterest in your own children, sent off
to a school far away as soon as you’re able to get rid of them. Then they turn
into dysfunctional adults, skagged up, confused why nobody has taught them how
to be an adult, seeking the parental figures they never had through failed
marriages with unsuitable men.
Fuck them! Fuck the rich! Kill them all!
They should let me on The Late Review, I
could finally get it cancelled.
J.M. Coetzee’s award winning small book
about man’s relationship with animals. It won’t convert anyone to a
vegetarian/vegan lifestyle yet it does contain my favourite piece of writing
about vegetarianism.
“You ask me why I refuse to eat flesh . I,
for my part, am astonished that you can put in your mouth the corpse of a dead
animal, astonished that you do not find it nasty to chew hacked flesh and
swallow the juices of death-wounds.”
Thanks Plutarch.
