'Mistress of the Art of Death' by Ariana Frankin, or 'I need to speak to someone because I'm a bit too into child rape'

I'M ACTUALLY HALFWAY THROUGH LES MISERABLES!

Of course I'm still way off my target of finishing the darn thing before the film comes out or, you know, before the next ice age, but it feels like a massive achievement.
So I took a break from the epic french novel to indulge in one of my reading guilty pleasures, namely medieval mystery novels. In a previous incarnation I was a medieval history student, and occasionally I like to remember those care free days with an actual real scholarly book, other times I just read a novel set in that period for a quick medieval fix. Lee Child with his rubbish book of rubbishness and Victor Hugo with his long book of much longness were kinda killing my love of reading a little, so I decided to have a go at medieval mystery that I've fancied reading for ages, and that has been gathering dust on my shelf for a few years now. Also it's set in Cambridge, which I recently visited for the first time, so it seemed an apt choice.

'Mistress of the Art of Death', as the name suggests, has a female protagonist, and this is the first murder mystery I've tackled with one. My medieval regulars are normally male, with Brother Cadfael (the late Ellis Peters hero) and Captain Own Archer (Cadace Robb's rather dashing male lead) serving as my regular medieval fixes. The historian in me sees the sense in male protagonists in this time period, and I was wary of a female lead, not least a female medical lead. Still every review I have read of this book told me it was historically accurate, so I shushed my internal historian and decided to give Dr. Adelia Aguilar a go.

The story focuses on a party of foreigners led by the feisty (just an aside why are female protagonists always feisty? is it just me?) Dr. Aguilar who arrive in Cambridge to seek the murderer of a child and find some further missing children. To be fair to her the doctor is pretending not to be a doctor, and has traveled from a medical school in Italy, which historians do believe educated women. They soon uncover the bodies of further children, and must find the murderer quickly as the townsfolk of Cambridge are pretty keen on blaming the Jews and slaughtering them in revenge. In true heroine fashion Adelia dramatically finds the killer, escapes his fearsome clutches, falls in love along the way and is commended by the king and encouraged to stay in England to find more killers to ensure further books in the series. Pretty standard stuff really.

But what is far from standard in this book is the completely vile, disgusting, stomach turning child murders. Now don't get me wrong, there ain't a child murder that is pleasant, but this book reaches new heights of grossness. Brother Cadfael's murder investigations normally were only as graphic as a nun drinking poison, or an infected dagger wound, and that is kinda what I want. I have no stomach for vile murders, if I wanted that I would read some of the more modern serial killer novels, or, you know, a Jack Reacher book. So reading about children having their eyelids cut off and being raped to death was not exactly what I either wanted or expected. Nor was I prepared for a graphic confrontation with a naked, skull masked murder in a remote clay mine with a heroine who must shout the most vile insults she can think of at the raping bastard in order to make him loose his erection and prevent him getting it on with an 8 year old boy. Not good. Not nice. Not right.


In fact the book really made me think the author wanted to write something more gritty and modern, but felt that she should set it in the past for some reason. The book is set during the reign of Henry II, one of my favorite kings, and one of Ariana Frankin's too apparently, as she wrote a quite academic book about his legal system (under her real name Diana Norman). Perhaps this is why she wanted to write a historical book, which features Henry himself, even with a more modern zeal for gore! Overall I would probably read the next book in the series, which is also sat on my shelf, to test how far this gore goes. Sadly there will only be the few book in this series that are already published, as the author has recently pasted away.      

Some Books from Morecambe Market

So I haven't bought many books recently, mainly because my shelves be all kinds of full, but this weekend I couldn't resist purchasing these three beauties. I got them from a house clearance stall at my local market, along with some awesome elephant book ends.

This is 'Animated Nature vol. 1' by Oliver Goldsmith. It's quarter bound in leather, but I admit it has been through the wars somewhat. However its pretty leather bounding is not what I bought it for.

 The plates in this book are fascination, and quite a few of them, like the frontispiece here, are in colour. That's the handsome author on the other page, and the date is 1870.

Books like this you normally find with the plates removed, because they sell for far more than the book ever would if you frame them. Who wouldn't want this on their wall, especially with such a fantastic illustration of a whale. That's right folks that thing at the bottom is a whale!

Also these illustrations of 'man' are quite fun, there are several pages of them, showing us what all the different races look like. If I really wanted to I guess I could cut these plates out and sell them, but I couldn't commit such a heinous crime!

These babies are a very different story. As a kid my Mum used to read a poem called 'The Lion and Albert' to me. She herself listened to her grandfather recite it every Christmas, and he had heard Stanley Holloway read them on the radio. It's a tale of a family who visit Blackpool zoo, but unfortunately their son Albert is eaten by a Lion. The whole thing is told in a Lancashire accent and is really funny. So when I saw the books of these poems, published in 1940, I just had to have them!

 The illustrations are gorgeous, all in black, white, red and green. I've never heard of any of the poems except 'The Lion and Albert', so I had a great laugh reading through them.

And what did I pay for them? £1 each! I love that it is possible to find such old books so cheaply in this country. Sure these Albert books are in a pretty poor state, but who cares? I shall keep them forever and entertain my kids by reading them the poem just like my Mum did, only now they will have the pleasure of seeing the illustrations too!

Lancaster Book Group- 'The Killing Floor' by Lee Child, or 'Dick-lit; A Beginners Guide To Writing Predictable Macho Novels That Will Make You A Fortune'

So the Les Miserables EPIC READ OF MUCH EPICNESS continues, and I'm still not even half way through, and even though I'm mostly enjoying it I do wonder if I'll still be reading it when I'm 50!

However I was allowed a brief interlude between pages of Much French Misery to read November's offering from my book group. As I mentioned in a previous post I've actually been 'let off' the last two book group reads because I'd already read them, allowing me time to focus on Les Mis (weep!). This month however I'm up again with the first of Lee Child's Jack Reacher novels 'The Killing Floor'. I feel it goes without saying that this is not the sort of thing I would choose to read normally, but hey-ho the purpose of book groups is to make you read something you haven't already right? Right?

This is the motto which fuelled the rest of this post

So I tried to be open minded, I honestly did. I thought 'hey this is a best-selling book, a best-selling book about to be made into a Hollywood blockbuster, there must be something redeeming about it?'. I know plenty of people who have loved these books, sure all those people have been men over 40 but that doesn't mean they won't interest me, hell plenty of 20-something women such as myself enjoy Sophie Kinsella and God knows I hate her*, so maybe I'll have similar tastes to middle age men. You never know right? Right?

So, yeah, it sucked. It sucked big time. It was really bad. Like hella bad. Like a waste of paper bad. Like I can't believe it got published bad. Like it makes me want to become a writer because God knows I can write better than that bad. Bad. 

The basic story goes that hard man Jack Reacher, ex-military golden boy and ultimate lone wolf, wanders into a small town in Georgia and is promptly given the sort of warm welcome that makes Rambo look like.... well, actually it's just a total Rambo rip off so I guess a comparison is a waste of time here, it's just the initial plot of Rambo. Anyway he goes to prison for a while for a crime he didn't commit, gets out after killing a few folk inside, and attempts to chase down the people responsible for his initial incarceration and horrifically murder them. All with the help of everyone in the town who's black (like 3 people, but Lee Child is keen to tell you that the bad guys are not only murdering scum, BUT THE BASTARDS BE RACIST TOO) and the one female character, who also happens to be drop dead gorgeous and has the uncanny ability to drop her knickers every time Jacky boy enters the room. Oh and she's a cop, but she's totally down with the protagonist killing bad guys left right and centre because, you know, he gives her the good lovings.  

Jack spends the majority of the book either murdering people in horrific and grizzly ways (and I'm not kidding here, one guy has his eyeball popped out with a thumb, another has his neck hacked away until his head is only attached to his body through his spinal cord), sleeping with the only woman in town or SHRUGGING. Seriously this guy must be suffering from a repetitive strain injury in his shoulders because of the sheer number of times he has lifted them towards his ears. Every response he gives throughout the entire novel, whether it is to a police chief holding him at gun point or a bad guy threatening to chop his balls off, is pre-empted by a shrug. I know he's cool and everything, but who in their right mind shrugs in that situation? 

Oh and the plot twists, the clever plot twists, the plot twists are so predictable it's painful. Early on in the book Jack learns that the conspiracy he's trying to crack has 10 members, all of whom must be chased down if he is to stop their diabolical scheme. Of course we're supposed to guess which members of the town are one of the 10, and every time one of them reveals themselves, usually laughing manically and pointing a gun at Jack's head Bond villain style, we are supposed to exclaim 'oh lordy I didn't see that coming'. You can tell Lee Child is proud of these moments, he writes them with relish, leaving the revelations till last thing in a chapter to keep you hooked. But it's so easy to guess who is in the 10 it's all very flat. Every single one of the bad guys can be easily identified by the sheer fact that they are rich (the conspiracy involves counterfeiting)  and racist. Now I'm not saying racists are nice people, generally they're not, but I'm guessing in a small town in the state of Georgia it wouldn't exactly make you stand out, nor would it mean you were a member of an international counterfeiting ring! However this is not the worst of the failed plot twists, oh no, there is a quite outrageous and startling one that really beggars belief. The book begins with a guy being murdered, a guy that is shot in the face and cannot be identified. Now I don't know who decided to put the slightly lame 'Jack Reacher's CV' in the front of the book, I'm guessing some smart arse publisher who thought it would be cool. This 'CV', which you are surely expected to read before you start the novel given where it is placed in it, clearly tells you the date of Jack's brothers death, something obviously essential to put on any CV (!!!). Therefore it doesn't take a genius to notice that JACK'S BROTHER DIED THE SAME DAY AS THIS MYSTERIOUS MAN! And if that wasn't obvious enough too anyone with a brain in their scull then the first half of the book is peppered with comments like 'the man reminded me of you Jack', 'the man was about your height and build Jack', 'have you heard from your brother recently Jack?' etc. Then finally when the identity of the dead man is revealed WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SURPRISED! Seriously, seriously, seriously retarded writing, and editing, and publishing. 

But on a final note it not just the writer and the editor and the publisher who are retarded, oh no the casting director on the new film is going to have to take that title too. See throughout the novel it is mentioned almost as many times as Jack shrugs that Jack is exactly 6 foot 5. It's in the little CV printed at the beginning, it's pointed out by various people, and every time Jack is presented with something that might be too short for him, like trousers or beds, he has to mention that he is 6 foot 5 and therefore finds these things tricky DON'T YOU KNOW. Therefore I present a meme which perfectly illustrates the look on my face when I looked up the upcoming film on IMDB. 

 Casting the shortest male lead in Hollywood to play a guy who is constantly referred to as very tall. Smart mover casting director, smart move. 

*not just because she writes inane books I'll have you know, oh no I have personal reasons for hating her that are totally unrelated to her crappy books. 

'The Chateau' by William Maxwell or 'I think Americans in France after the war doing nothing is REALLY INTERESTING'

Again my apologies for not posting for a while. This month has been rather hectic at work and as a result I have had little time to blog or to read! I'm continuing to slog my way through 'Les Miserables', which at 1200 densely packed, small margined, extra large pages is going to take me a fair while. That said however I am really enjoying it and will post about it in due course.

This is what I'm desperately trying to avoid!

The last two books for my reading group happen to be books I have already read, which has given me a break from these 'obligatory' reads, so for some dumb reason I decided to go back to the book group at my workplace- completely daft! Hence me reading a really obscure American novel that apparently some genius ex-pupil of my school recommended to the librarian instead of getting on with my 1001 quest! Seriously pants on head retarded! 

 DERP!

So 'The Chateau' is about an American couple who thought it would be a good idea to travel to France for an extended holiday in 1948. They spend the entire book slightly puzzled about why everyone doesn't love them as the great liberating American heroes and why the trains aren't running and why everything looks a bit bomby and everybody is poor and sort of fed up with the Germans. Sweet Jesus this book does very little for the 'Americans abroad' image!

 Is pretty much what the French do throughout this novel

Literally these guys spend a few months in France (and other countries, but for some reason Maxwell decides not to tell us about that) travelling round and being socially awkward. Very little actually happens cause this is one of those books that is supposed to be SUBTLE and CLEVER and therefore BORING! Maxwell gives us lots of tiny, insignificant details about train times and luggage and nylon stockings (which these super awkward American's bring along to give to their chambermaids, and then wonder why people think they are patronising!)  but fails to tell us about stuff that might actually be interesting. For example they are constantly eating large multi course dinners or having to get ration books, but not once do they say what they are eating! I mean you go to a country like France after a lifetime of American cookery (that's not me being patronising, just saying it's gonna be, ya know, different!) and you would think it might be worth commenting on. If it's a choice between a detailed description of lavish French cookery or train times, I know which one I would rather read about. 

 Hi, I'm William Maxwell, pleased to meet you. 

So this pair of Americans spend most of the book living in this chateau (hence the title) with a snotty aristocrat that has fallen on hard times since the war and seems to slightly resent having to open up her fine and wonderful abode to gawking foreigners and poor people. A set up for hilarity you say? You could make a fine sit-com out of this you say? The more grown up and literary of you say what an excellent medium for discussing the complicated relationship between members of a country and its liberator as well as the class divide in modern Europe. Well you would all be disappointed, because excellent as all those things would be, Maxwell squanders his opportunity and instead just makes the whole experience awkward, boring and tedious. There is some apparent secret about how the family lost their money which is hinted at as being terrible and is built up to be some grand revelation for the end of the book, but even this disappoints. The narrative closes with no answer to this, but then in some strange, slightly tacked on bit at the end it is revealed, and it's really nothing special. Really. Also the tacked on bit at the end smacks of Maxwell getting totally bored with the whole thing, failing to write what was actually going on into the actual story, and creating a short 'conversation' with an anonymous person (surely not the reader, they fell asleep ages ago!) that reveals everything. And hell even the revelations are dull!

  why did I write such a long review? This sums it up perfectly. 

In conclusion this book sucks. It really sucks. Hella sucks. There is a reason no one has ever heard of it. 

Lancaster Book Group- 'Islam: A Short History' by Karen Armstrong and 'The Reluctant Fundamentalist' by Mohsin Hamid

Firstly I should state that on the non-fiction title was set by my book group, I had 'The Reluctant Fundamentalist' on my shelf already and picked it up halfway through the Armstrong book because it had a complimentary theme. It was 200 very sparse pages so I pretty much finished it during a 2 hour break from Armstrong.

I chose this book (the Armstrong) because my group thought a non-fiction title might be a good idea. It is one that has sat on my shelf saying 'read me Liz, read me' for a few years now, and as a teacher of Religious Studies the fact is I probably should have read it by now! I actually have most of the authors books on my shelves, picked up from various charity shops. I find the idea of her appealing, an ex-nun who now writes approachable and unbiased accounts of various world religions sounds like the sort of person I would like to read.

The reason I picked her Islam book in particular is, I should think, pretty obvious. Like most people in my profession I have been struggling with the lack of understanding of Islam in the west, which often manifests itself as fear and hatred. Even some of my more liberal, well-educated friends struggle to come to terms with a religion that, if we believe some media's accounts, would like to eradicate the western way of life and burn us innocent whities as infidels! That this is completely untrue I would like to think goes without saying, but sadly I find I really do have to make it clear. So much is said about Islam, about the meaning of the word, the nature of Jihad, their attitudes to women and their perception of non-muslims, that I thought reading this might be a good way of helping me sift out the racist lies from the truth.

Armstrong wrote this before 9/11 (though my version contains a 2 page postscript briefly addressing the issue) and in some ways it does show. She does address the issue of fundamentalism, but perhaps not in as much detail as you would expect if the book were written today. It is very hard to think back before 9/11, it changed out perception of the world so much. I consider myself fortunate to be old enough (just) to recognise the difference between post and pre 9/11, but try as I might I find it impossible to communicate this to my pupils. From September my youngest pupils will not have even been alive during 9/11, and even the eldest were too young to be aware of the change. They grew up with a fear and suspicion of Islam that I never had as a kid, and they probably learnt the word 'terrorist' far before I was aware of it.  

The Islam portrayed by Armstrong is much more neutral. Sure there are things in this religions past that it is/should be ashamed of. A couple of massacres, a rather unsavoury method of gaining revenue by 'raiding' Arab merchants (a very common practice of the time Armstrong is keen to point out), but what religion doesn't? Crusades anybody? The underlying message of Muhammad (pbuh) is one of peace, tolerance and generally being decent to one another, had they been alive at time same time I'm pretty sure him and Jesus would have got along like a house on fire!

Armstrong believes the rise of Islam was extremely good for the Arab people, it united the disparate tribes and put in place a clear and administrable moral code. It allowed the nation to expand, and while it inevitably succumbed to civil war and invaders in much the same way all large empires do, it was overall successful and very tolerant of the Christians and Jews who lived in the areas it occupied. Religious tolerance was the aim of the game, and conversions to Islam were not even encouraged until much later on. To be honest, while this was all interesting, I felt Armstrong lacked focus during this middle but of the book. Emperor follows Emperor and I struggled to tell which was which and why I should care. However she redeemed herself in her final section on fundamentalism.

Those people who give up their lives and thousands of others for their religious causes, those people who appear to hate the west and who butcher their own religion and turn it into a misogynistic, intolerant, hateful mess. Those people I do not understand, could never get a grasp on, but I think I have a better idea now. I have never sympathised with anything the Nazi's did, but while it was vile and hateful I could understand their motivations. Having read about the suppression of religion and the enforced secularisation that happened in many Muslim countries after the rise of the west I have a degree of understanding. I still think the actions of Islamic fundamentalists are wrong, but at least now I have some perspective, some understanding of their history even if it does not justify it. And this is why we should all read this book, because with some perspective, some insight, perhaps we may be able to get through to those people who take their beautiful religion to an extreme.

'The Reluctant Fundamentalist' does try in many ways to do what Armstrong does in her fundamentalism chapter, only much shorter, easier to read and completely fictitious! It is a tense conversation between an American man (who doesn't actually speak) and a man he meets in Pakistan. The Pakistani man tells his life story, how he got a scholarship to an ivy league college in America and became very successful there, but now he is here back living in Pakistan. I can't say much more without ruining it, but the whole thing is very gripping and you begin to wonder why he moved back home and what, if anything, he is going to do to the American. An awesome, awesome thriller that is super short but super clever, well worth a read.

Well I hope that didn't offend too many people!     
       

1001 Books 117/1001- 'Orlando' or 'I'm Going to Tell a Story and I Won't Let Little Things Like Gender and Mortality Stop Me'

So this is the second novel by Ms. Woolf novel I've tackled this year, 'Mrs. Dalloway' being the first.  In a way I think I've approached her books the wrong way round. I read 'The Hours' before I read 'Mrs. Dalloway', so the whole thing came as little of a surprise, indeed old Clarissa is referenced in so many other things it's impossible to not have some idea of what happens in this book before going in. Along similar lines I also read most of Jeanette Winterson's collection of insipid, inaccurate, bizarre, historical, lesbian fiction (yeah I didn't enjoy them CAN YOU TELL?) as well as Radclyffe Hall's sapphic tome 'The Well of Loneliness' (who knew such a controversial book could be so dull?) already, both of which clearly tip a heart to the great 'Orlando'*

So I don't really know why I came to Virginia Woolf so late in life, I think I thought I would always like her, I've certainly had her books on my shelf waiting to be read since I was a teenager, but I just never got round to it.

So was it worth the wait? Mostly yes. I found both 'Orlando' and 'Mrs. Dalloway' a lot harder to read than I thought I would. I mean I knew she was always a respected and intelligent author but I guess I always figured I could handle it; COCKY MUCH? I got through it just fine, but it took me a little over a week, which is quite a long time for a book that is only 200 pages long AND has illustrations.

I have first world problems

Still I plodded on with it, and once I got over the fact that I was never going to have any of this whole 'Orlando is immortal and changes gender' stuff explained to me I quite enjoyed it. The more anal side of my brain spent the first 60-odd pages getting more and more frustrated that Orlando was still some how young despite being like 100 years old and I didn't know why, but eventually I realised that I wasn't supposed to be thinking about that and that it wasn't important and then I kinda relaxed and let the madness happen.

Orlando is a privileged child, born in a mahoosive house towards the end of Elizabeth I's reign. He (at this point) ends up being a favourite of Queen Lizzy, then goes on to have a passionate relationship with a naughty Russian princess on the Thames when if freezes during James reign, goes all mopy for 50 years when she leaves him, becomes an ambassador in Turkey cause an Archduchess keeps trying it on with him, becomes a woman miraculously overnight after a rebellion in Constantinople, spends a while living with gypsies, goes back to London, gets pursued by the same Archduchess who has now become an Archduke, hobnobs with some famous poets, becomes a famous poet herself, gets married to a sea captain that spends most of his time travelling round Cape Horn, has a kid and the book ends in 1928. Simple as right?

I don't know 'officially' why Woolf made Orlando into some sort of X-man/woman, I know the whole thing is supposed to be about Vita Sackville-West with whom she was more than just good friends with IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. I also know that Vita would occasionally dress up as a bloke when she was off with one of her girlfriends. But I think (for what it's worth) she just didn't let inconvenient things like gender that get in her way. She had a tale to tell, so why let boring things like the laws of nature get involved? This, after all, is fiction, the whole point is that IT ISN'T TRUE.

And kudo to Virginia, I admire her complete lack of adherence to the basic laws of life. Fiction should be about exploring new and unusual ways of telling a story and I applaud the effort. However for this to work you really do need a good story...

*OK I know 'The Well of Loneliness' came out at about the same time as 'Orlando' and probably wasn't directly influenced by old Virginia BUT Ms. Woolf did defend the publication of 'The Well' when it was censored. Also what I'm try to get at here is that most people would read 'Orlando' long before 'The Well' because it is far better know and far better written!

1001 Books 116/1001- 'Dracula' or 'Horror Stories, You're Doing it Right'

FINALLY a book review where I have something good to say! I cannot tell you (whoever you are) how long it has been since I read a good book. I was starting to give up hope of finding something half decent on the 1001 list!

I can not believe I waited this long to read 'Dracula', everyone has read 'Dracula', my boyfriend has even read 'Dracula', and he mostly just reads books with pictures (and by that I mean comic books, not kids books, LOVE YA DARLING). I always got the impression I wouldn't like it, that it paled into significance compared to 'Frankenstein' and that Stoker was a one hit wonder. But I was wrong, I was like hella wrong. 'Dracula' rocked my world with its awesome epistolary style (yeah that's right I took English Lit A level), it's kick ass women and its genuinely evil vampire dude. The descriptions were awesome, the atmosphere was creepy and the characters were well written and likeable.

So what made me think I wouldn't like 'Dracula'? Well maybe it was everything it spawned! Don't get me wrong I love quite a bit of the modern vampire stuff, particularly Joss Whedon's version. I grew up with Buffy and her kick ass ways, and my heart melted when Angel came on screen just like every other teenage girl. As for Twilight, I'm ashamed to say I read the whole series (I know I know this is a shocking revelation, but when you work in a bookshop it's easier to have read the current 'big thing' because everyone is always going on about it, I read 'Da Vinci Code for the same reason) and while I was probably more into the werewolves, there was something about that sparkley fellow Edward.

But they weren't vampires. Seriously they weren't, Angel and Edward were both vampires that didn't act like vampires, and that was what made them attractive. They don't suck your blood, but the fact that they could if they wanted to kinda gives your make out sessions that hint of danger that girls love. The REAL vampires, the bad guys, the ones that actually suck your blood, well they are kinda icky and ugly.

And that is why Dracula was a nice refreshing change, he IS a bad guy, and not a bad-guy-who-had-something-terrible-happen-to-him-like-having-his-true-love-murderer-in-front-of-his-eyes-and-we-can-totally-get-why-he-is-doing-all-this kinda bad guy; no he's just bad. Evil. End of. The heroine doesn't have a crush on him (no SHE DOESN'T Francis Ford Coppola, so why did you make Winona Ryder go all gooey eyed over him? grr) he isn't described as in any way attractive and he is completely ruthless. There is no heart of gold under that thousand year old Transylvanian chest, and when he is defeated there is nothing but glee from the characters and the reader.

So having a vampire villain who is ACTUALLY a villain has an interesting and very pleasing effect on the female characters in this book- they KICK MOTHERTRUCKING VAMPIRE ASS! Seriously Mina Harker is awesome, she has intelligence, independence and integrity. She sticks by her, frankly at times a bit wussy husband, not because she feels she must (there are plenty of times when she is encouraged to 'turn back' and 'stay away' from the whole vampire hunting affair) but because she loves him. And she doesn't assist by making tea and looking pretty but by correlating information and completing research. Furthermore, when the lads decide to cut her out of the vampire hunting and 'go it alone' they cock it all up and poor Mina ends up getting bitten- it is only by working together that they are able to defeat Dracula. Mina Harker is an outstanding role model, and all right at times her part in it all is more like a secretary, but considering this book was written in 1897 it is still pretty damn impressive.

Now I'm not suggesting that Buffy doesn't kick ass because, frankly, she kicks tonnes of it, but her weakness is always her love for Angel (and in later series Spike). When he goes all evil on her ass she turns into a weeping jibbering wreck. OK she eventually pulls it together, but it isn't her finest moment. As for Bella, well she becomes a drooling loved up mess from the moment she meets Edward, and even contemplates killing herself when he buggers off. OK she reads books and is fairly smart, but in the end she decides not to go to university so she can stay home and marry her highschool boyfriend and have his mutant babies, I mean come on! Mina Harker would have slapped the silly bint round the face, told her to man up and put a stake in her hand. Mina didn't want to snog Dracula, she wanted to cut of his head because he upset her husband and killed her best friend. She was out for revenge, and didn't let any undead lothario get in her way.  Somehow in the past 100 years, when we've made such vast leaps forward when it comes to gender equality, we need to look back to see an example of a powerful heroine when it comes to vampire writing. What is it about the 'fanged ones' that makes us go all girly and weak, it's weird right?

1001 Books 115/1001- 'On The Road', or 'How To Get Famous Writing A Book Without A Plot: The Jack Kerouac Story'

Lets just make one thing perfectly clear, I hated this book, I hated its guts. This was not a good book.

Now for some more profound rambling. I read 'On The Road' as part of my continued efforts to complete the '1001 Books to Read Before you Die' marathon that consumes my autistic mind. 'On The Road' is part of damn near every one of those lists of great books and I figured so many compliers of lists of great books could not be wrong. Right?

I know what I expected from 'On The Road', I expected a profound story of a journey across America where some young men would eventually realise something deep and meaningful about life and would finish their adventure somehow wiser and more enlightened than they were previously. Now I can dig that, I mean plenty of stories involve a journey, hell if you get all metaphysical and what-not every book is a journey of some kind, even if it is just the journey the reader goes on to learn more about the characters (oh-eer). I did the travelling thing (briefly) in my younger, more carefree days and I believe it made me a better person. OK I kinda expected the message at the end of this book to be something I thought would be a bit wanky, pretentious and daft, but I expected to be essentially pleased that the youths were more than they once were because the hit the road.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The two main characters (both of whom have ridiculous names BTW, if you wrote a book with Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty as the main characters now-a-days most publishers would probably expire laughing) are young, irritating, drug taking, alcoholic, law breaking, womanising, chauvinistic thugs at the beginning AND at the end of the book. They don't develop, they don't become something, they don't see the error of their ways or develop deep political convictions, they fuck about causing nothing but distress to everyone they encounter and then they the steal a car and drive to another city and proceed to FUCK EVERYONE OVER ONCE MORE!

Never mind the deeply unattractive message this sends to the reader, most of whom I gather are teenage boys, but what about say, I don't know, A PLOT. There is no story here, in the best part of 300 pages the two main characters drive from New York to San Francisco umteen times, often getting to their destination and then driving back after a matter of hours. They regularly pass through the same towns on their journey, normally with the narrator mentioning a car they stole or a girl they slept with or a bar they drank in last time they were in town (yeah I know you did it like 30 pages ago I REMEMBER), but there is nothing built on to that. Not 'there is a girl I slept with 6 months ago- oh look now she has gotten married', no that would involve some direction from this author, they just mention something that happened before and then shrug their shoulders and keep going.

The bonkers character Dean gets married 3 times in the book and leaves each wife at some point to shack up with another one, leaving them with his kids to raise and no money, and this is just OK. It's fine for Dean to do this, and to leave his wife because she objects to him spending all their money on a fancy car and then driving it across the country to go have a drink with someone on the opposite coast and then drive it back and ruin it in the first place AND FURTHERMORE DO THIS ABOUT A GAZILLION TIMES. Not only are these wives unreasonable, but Dean will hit them in the heat of an argument and will find other more dutiful women who will do nothing but smile and cook dinner and proceed to tell them that is how a woman should be. Oh yeah and on several occasions he abandons his friends, including in another country, so he can run off with a different woman. This guy is a total scumbag, Jeremy Kyle would seriously kick his ass, yet I get the impression we're supposed to love him. The narrator, Sal, thinks the sun shines out of this guys backside, even when Dean abandons him half dead of dysentery in Mexico City!

Furthermore what is with the 'stream of conscience' thing? The whole book is written like a poorly edited diary- 'I woke up, and then I ate some breakfast and then I smoked some tea, and then I drove to Denver and then I drank a bottle of whiskey and then I slept with a girl and then I washed my face and then I met up with my friend Ed and then I DIED OF BOREDOM'. I mean seriously the whole thing read like that the whole way through, not to mention pages and pages describing music and bands. The pages just drag on and on in the same boring monotonous tone so you start to forget which town their in and what car their stealing or who one of the many MANY 'friends' that they seem to have in every town is.

Now I know Kerouac wrote the whole thing very quickly on one long piece of paper or some other gimmicky drivel that every hipster will be super keen to tell me, but honestly I don't get it. If Kerouac is so brilliant and revolutionary then why is he writing a book that encouraged young men to act like dicks? This was written in the late 40's/early 50's- men had been acting like dicks for centuries but were just starting to change. Others have suggested to me that the reason I didn't like this was because I didn't read it as a teenager, but honestly even at 16 I'm pretty sure nothing about they characters would ever have appealed to me. I never wanted to be a skint drunken bum with a tendency to screw over my friends and any member of the opposite sex- am I in the minority? So now I am seriously wondering what it is that makes so many people totally love this book? Seriously what? I really want to know.


         

Lancaster Book Group- Daughters of Witching Hill and all the other Pendle Witchy books

So I haven't posted in a while. My bad.
Anyhoo this month my book group decided to take things in a more supernatural direction. Living in Lancaster as we do we could hardly fair to know about the infamous Pendle Witches, hung in this very town almost exactly 400 years ago just up the road from where we meet. The witches trial, well documented by clerk Thomas Potts, has sparked the imagination of many. The most famous novel associated with these poor unfortunate souls is probably Robert Neill's 'Mist Over Pendle', which I read as a teenager going to that all to common 'gothic' phase. It was written in the early 50's, and took the view that the witches were probably stupid dirty ragamuffins who didn't know any better and we should pity them. Also Roger Nowell (the magistrate that accused the witches) was a kindly old gentleman who didn't really want to hang the crazy peasants and he had a cousin who is BATSHIT CRAZY about NEW DRESSES.

Before Mr. Neill and his DRESS OBSESSION (seriously, it's a good 12 years since I read this and the main thing I can remember is how much the cousin went on about having a new dress, and fabrics for that dress and designs for kirtles and OH GOD KILL ME NOW) we had to rely on William Ainsworth and his 1849 'The Lancashire Witches'. Now I have a copy of this and I haven't read it (again, my bad) but given that I have read the last page and the witches GET BURNT AT THE HISTORICALLY INACCURATE STAKE (so never happened to any witches in England) I think I can categorically state that I won't be impressed.  It's fair to say then that the old witches were due a new novel, perhaps by someone who can actually be bothered to read the account of the trial (available here for free so no excuses) and doesn't get distracted by a nice bonnet and velvet cuff.

So American Mary Sharratt took up the call. I'd get all irate about her not being British and never having been to the arse end of rural nowhere that is Pendle (I can say that I'm from round there) but credit where credit is due the woman lived over here for a while, so kudos to her.
Sharratt takes the approach of 'the witches were poor but kindly healing wise women who did lots of good but were cruelly treated by 'da man' and were forced into being a bit naughty sometimes'. This is a much more PC interpretation, full of feminist thought on medieval witchcraft (see Mary Daly, and then run away) where cruel, heartless men-folk burn those adorable old midwives with their healing herbs and fondness for the 'old ways' and then go away to chortle and drink claret. I'm not saying that was wrong, hell I wasn't there I dunno, but it all just sounds a bit to simple and straightforward to me. History is never as easy as it looks, in 200 years 9/11 will be some 'naughty' Muslims attacking kind hearted, innocent America for no good reason. We know, we lived through it, is was WAY more complicated than that.

So anyway, enough of my witchy ranting, what about the goddamn book? Well it was alright, it was all a bit simple, the witches were good, the rich men-folk were bad and there was a few 'oooh was it witchcraft or just a big coincidence' moments to get you tapping your chin in intrigue. It was told first person all the way through, between either Demdike (the classic grandma witch) and her pretty but naive granddaughter Alizon. This worked well until the bit where Alizon got hung, and we were with the narrative right up until she heard the executioner let her drop which just left you going 'well how in the name of all that is Lancastrian did she ever write this down' which spoiled it somewhat. Somewhat short sighted for an experienced author. Otherwise I liked it, it kept me reading, I found no major historical inaccuracies and it was mostly believable if a little idealistic.

In a few months Jeanette Winterson publishes her own take on the Pendle Witches, who are fast become the new Spice Girls. Will you take historically inaccurate-witch Ainsworth, clothing obsessed witch Neill, men hating witch Sharratt or new and improved lesbian witch Winterson. Take your pick readers!

1001 Books To Read Before You Die

My brother is profoundly Autistic. It is very common for family members of autistic people to display autistic tendencies. I believe this is why this book so appealed to me. It gave me a categorical list of 'good' book, ensuring that my precious reading time was not occupied with the kind of drivel that my last post concerned.

When I first came across it I was working in a bookshop, which was fantastic but often threw up problems of what to read next. I've always had eclectic taste, and when you work with thousands of books everyday you list of 'to-be read' books just gets longer and longer. No matter how much time you dedicated to reading it was impossible to read the whole shop, and you could be fantastically well read but there would always be a customer who would look disappointed when you told them you hadn't read the book they were interested in. I read books like Twilight (I know I know) because it was fantastically popular and made my job easier. Yet more and more books were published every week, and it threw my little semi-autistic brain into chaos.

The need to alphabetise everything- just one of the many side effects of bookselling

But this book brought me hope. It gave me a reason to read and a reason to discard any book I chose. It made me pick up books I'd never thought twice about, because Mr. Boxall said I really, really should. It also shone a light on those classics I had carelessly neglected to read and, as it lists books chronologically by publication date, showed me the time periods I was lacking in as well.

 I won't lie, it hasn't always been my friend. This book has made me read some absolute stinkers. 'Heart of Darkness' was like pulling teeth, 'Rob Roy' like pulling teeth with a really annoying Scottish accent. It also comes with the complications of editions. There are currently four different versions of this book, all with slightly different lists. As I own the book I go off the 2006 list, but this is far from the best list as it is heavily biased in favour of certain authors (Coetzee and Dickens) and is very English centred. This can lead to frustrating episodes of buying a book and then realising it is a- not on the 2006 list or b- not on any of the lists. It has to be said that Arukiyomi's fabulous spreadsheet helps massively with this and is highly recommended.

However this book is responsible for introducing me to some of the best books I have ever read. Like seriously. I don't know why I didn't read 'Wuthering Heights' when I was 13 like everybody else, but I'm truly gutted I didn't and extremely thankful to 1001 for introducing me to it. Same goes for 'To Kill a Mockingbird'.

Currently I'm working my way through my 111th book on the list 'The Nice and the Good', which is also my Reading Group book for May. When I've finally waded my way through it I'll tell you all what I think!

Lancaster Reading Group: The Interpretation of Murder- Jed Rubenfeld

It's fair to say I wouldn't have touched this book with a 10 foot barge pole if it hadn't of been the title selected for my reading group last month. It has the icky 'Richard and Judy'/ in every charity shop for 50p/ generic man walking on a sepia cover-ness about it to really turn me off. To add further insult to injury a copy of said masterpiece had been languishing on my shelf for at least 2 years before me finally deciding to cull it and send it to the charity shop a few weeks ago. Also I hate Freud.

My major issue with books like this is the blatant name-dropping in order to sell books. The author (or perhaps more likely their publisher) tries to sell the book by making the reader feel more intellectual than they actually are. I believe the thought process runs something like "I always wanted to study psychology... ugh those psychology textbooks are big and boring looking... ZOMFG! HERE IS A FICTION BOOK ABOUT FREUD, I CAN GET CLEVER WITHOUT HAVING TO TRY LOLZ". This is particularly painful in this book as Freud is really a fairly minor character, who mostly sits in his hotel room being smug and wetting himself.

And speaking of trying to be clever, isn't Mr. Rubenfeld the smarty-pants? What the author doesn't know about New York, Psychology and Architecture isn't worth knowing, and apparently the reader needs to be told ALL OF IT. These snippets of information, while generally quite interesting, feel forced into the story. This makes the author come across as smug and patronising, which is never a good thing.

Anyway THE STORY is your fairly typical whodunit, and it is the need to know who did the rather raunchy and attention grabbing murder in the first few pages of the novel that kept me reading. Of course the actual answer to that question is VERY convoluted and complicated and wrapped up in sex and psychology and femme fatals and secret passageways and OH NO I'VE GONE CROSS EYED. Honestly by the end I still wasn't sure who had done it, or even if it had been 'done' at all!

All that said it wasn't that bad. I read it. I didn't vom. It was meh.

2 out of 5 stars, for the sheer fact that I didn't guess who did it within 50 pages.