Saturday, 10 April 2010

In Which We Discuss Extra-large Tits and Rizlas

...along with Donkey Dick Movie Star and Flash Wanker.

Or, more specifically, Matt Beaumont. Even more specifically, The Book, the Film, the T-Shirt.

I've only read three of Beaumont's novels so far - e., Where There's a Will, and the afforementioned book, film, t-shirt (which is how it is going to be refered to from now on, because I am very lazy).

Excuse me, I'm just going to get on the library website and see what they can do about that.

...nope, it appears to be down for Easter.

That's the thing about the library. Generally, the opening hours are pretty good - 9am to 8pm most days, 9am to 5pm on Saturdays, and closed on Sundays. But, anything even close to a holiday, and they're off. I was quite surprised to find that they were open on Saturday, and, from what the librarian told me, I wasn't the only one. He reckoned they'd had about fifty calls querying whether they would be or not.

I'm not entirely sure why that should effect the website, but, apparently, that has Easter off too.

So, anyway. Matt Beaumont.

His first novel, e., was written in an epistolary style, that is, formed from various documents. It takes part at fictional ad agency, Miller Shanks, and consists of emails sent between employees, from the CEO down to the temp, and including one written by a cleaner.

Bookfilmt-shirt is written in a similar style, but merely switches between points of view, rather than written documents, which offers a little more freedom.

Once criticism often levelled at epistolary novels is that they can encourage laziness - when an author needs to explain something, they can just switch to another character.  Many authors simply avoid using one or more of the key characters, leaving those around them to simply guess at what they're thinking.  Jodi Picoult did it in My Sister's Keeper (the film of which kind of sucked, by the way), and Matt Beaumont does it here.  Pulls it off, too.

Quick note on the film of the book here since I'm not going to give it it's own post; although the book of My Sister's Keeper had an unusual, extremely unlikely ending, it worked for it.  It gave the book a fresher feel, made it a little more unusual.

Where I think the film suffered was, it changed that ending, and downplayed the legal parts, and some of the issues resulting from the court case, which was the book's other strength.  In the end it was just, basically, a made-for-TV movie about a kid with leukaemia (why yes, that is an About A Boy reference), with some famous faces in it.  Rather meh, really.

Anyway, extra-large tits and rizlas.

It's a little difficult to really describe the plot of bookfilmt-shirt, since there are so many different lines and subplots going on at once.  Each character has their own little one, some short, others arcing to the end of the novel.  Pretty much the only way to tell it is as it's written, which eventually ends with me saying "oh, just read it."  Which really is rather good advice, if I do say so myself.

I am going to have a go at summarizing the plot anyway, just because it would be rather lame if I didn't.

The book's about the making of an advert for Blackstock tires, an American company trying to make a name in Britain.  It stars Joe Strider and Rebecca Richards, young stars of Dawson's Creek-type show, All Our Lives Before Us.  Rebecca, a Brit, had been dating Joe (a yank), until he filmed Body Matter with Keven French (who also happens to be the director of the advert in question, since he and the adman go way back).  Joe's star is on the rise due to this, and he's holding that over Kevin, who believes that he needs to make Body Matter II in order to keep his career (sadly, Hollywood really does value actors over directors).  Joe also dumped Rebecca for their young co-star, Greta Bastendorff (an oversight on Beaumont's part, I think; he made her seventeen which, while acceptably young here, is completely illegal and much more shocking over there).

Joe has become a complete diva; he demands extra staff, a new bed, and constantly belittles Rebecca.  Then there's the runner, the PA, the executive-in-charge-of-jellybeans, the adman, the amateur drug dealer turned bouncer (who christens Rebecca 'Extra-Large Tits and Rizlas' after he spots her being searched at the airport), the hairdresser, Norman the Cook, and a whole host of other characters, all with their own viewpoint.  Some are only in for a few scenes, others comment throughout the entire novel.

The book just makes me laugh.  A lot.  That's what I really like about it. From the first page, I was giggling my little head off.  And it's just gone midnight, and I've been working on this post intermittently for almost a week now, so I'll leave it at that.

Thursday, 1 April 2010

In Which We Discuss April 2010

A record of the books I've read this month;



Number Name Author Date Began Date Finished
1 Kings Blood FourSheri Tepper1/4/20105/4/2010
2 The Book, The Film, The T-ShirtMatt Beaumont2/4/20104/4/2010
3 My Sister JodieJaqueline Wilson3/4/20104/4/2010
4 Necromancer NineSheri Tepper5/4/20107/4/2010
5 Wizard's ElevenSheri Tepper7/4/20109/4/2010
6 Jinian FootseerSheri Tepper9/4/201012/4/2010
7 Dervish DaughterSheri Tepper12/4/201015/4/2010
8 Jinian StareyeSheri Tepper13/4/201015/4/2010
9 Past MortemBen Elton15/4/201016/4/2010
10 The Song of Mavin ManyshapedSheri Tepper17/4/201021/4/2010
11 Small WorldMatt Beaumont19/4/201020/4/2010
12 The Flight of Mavin ManyshapedSheri Tepper21/4/201024/4/2010
13 FreakonomicsSteven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner21/4/201022/4/2010
14 SuperFreakonomicsSteven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner25/4/201026/4/2010
15 The Search of Mavin ManyshapedSheri Tepper

24/4/2010

3/5/2010
16 The Undercover Economist

Tim Harford26/4/2010

28/4/2010
17 MidnightJacqueline Wilson

27/4/2010

27/4/2010

18 How to Win Friends and Influence PeopleDale Carnegie28/4/201030/4/2010


I'm going to split this into monthly posts, and then put it all together next year.

Monday, 29 March 2010

In Which We Discuss the Last Fortnight

...can I explain why I didn't call?

Alright, I know what I wrote about trying to write something every week. What can I say? I haven't been in much of a blogging mood. Haven't been in much of a film/book mood either, as you can see if you check out my film blog, The Real Ratings.

Come to think of it, what have I been doing?

Anyway.

A metaphor from Nick Hornby's Polysyllabic Spree has stuck with me. Namely, that reading is a lot like eating. Sometimes, you're in the mood for something heavy - a big, three course meal, for instance. Or maybe something light, or something new, or something familiar, or something like fast food which you know isn't the best thing to eat, but which is trashily enjoyable anyway (Twilight, for instance).

Well, for the past few days or so, I've been leaning more towards familiar tastes. Comforting tastes. Things which are the literary equivalent of my scalloped potatoes recipe - personal, and familiar, and, to abandon the food metaphor, snuggly and worn, like comfy old slippers.

That's why I reread Helen Dunne's Light as a Feather. It's one of those chick-lit novels (I have a not-so-secret addiction to the damn things) that I picked up in a charity shop for about 50p, several years back.

Plotwise, it's not the most inventive thing ever. It's about a woman, Orla Kennedy, who decides to set up a diet chatroom/support group, to help her lose weight for her best friend's wedding. That information should help you classify the book slightly better - it's from the Irish side of the family, and it's about weight issues.

I don't mean that to sound derogatory, just informative. Generally speaking, Irish chick-lit (I intend to keep using that term; I don't find it derogatory or offensive, and the same goes for 'comic' rather than graphic novel) has a unique kind of style. That's not to say that every Irish writer writes like that, or that no writer of any other nationality can - it's just a trend I've noticed. And now I'm going to stop being so PC and just list a few examples; Marian Keyes, for instance, especially with things like Watermelon. Tina Reilly, although without dealing with the heavy issues that Is This Love? discusses. Like Cecilia Ahern, only nothing like so sad as PS - I Love You. In tone though, the book is mostly like Arabella Weir's Does My Bum Look Big in This?, only without so much harping on about self-hatred and Catholic guilt.

...all right, there is a bit of Catholic guilt.

While we're on the subject, American chick-lit is slightly different as well. For instance, the weight issues tend to be a bit more...well, more. I'm mostly thinking of Liza Palmer's Conversations With the Fat Girl, although, oddly, Jane Green's Jemima J has something of the same tone (incidentally, Green is English, with an America-sized ego. No, I did not accidentally leave off the 'n').

Anyway, my point is that in English or Irish chick-lit about weight issues, the women tend to be anything from a sixteen to an eighteen. In American novels, they tend to be rather larger than that.

That said, a lot of my English and Irish chick-lit was picked up in charity shops, and a lot of it dates from the early nineties. So perhaps it's more a sign of the times than of geography.

To contradict myself slightly on the craving-familiarity thing, I also read Jeremy de Quidt's The Toymaker the other day. It was a spur-of-the-moment choice in the library. They had all these glossy new paperbacks on a little shelf near the door, and that one looked interesting (as did Cliff McNish's Savannah Grey, although I haven't read that one yet).

The cover, for a start, was as creepy as hell. See that terrifying little doll?  Shame she doesn't get more screentime, really.

Although the book dealt with some fairly mature themes (such as revenge, murder and organ-theft), you can still tell that it's a young adult novel. Part of that impression comes from the ilustrations throughout, but a lot of it is in the tone. There just seems to be something different about young adult novels, a lack of something to get your teeth into. And, oh look, we're back to the foor metaphor. And I've just realised I haven't eaten today.

Right, had a banana. Where was I?

The Toymaker. It's pretty interesting, and absorbing, but also downright creepy. It reminded me a lot of Philip Pullman's Clockwork. It's a book aimed at young adults, with all the blood left in, which is interesting if you're prepared for it (as you should be after looking at that cover).


Finally, at the moment, I'm rereading Miranda Austin's Phone Sex. I'm fairly sure I've mentioned that before. It's just so readable and fun.

It's essentially the memoirs of a phone-sex girl, mostly anecdotes, but with a few other things, all of it completely absorbing (and not just because it's about sex. I don't think, anyway).

I am starving. More later, maybe.

Thursday, 11 March 2010

In Which We Discuss Last Week

I've decided to make the effort to write a weekly column (well, post, really) on what I've been reading.

Mostly, this was inspired by reading Nick Hornby's The Polysyllabic Spree, which I have, irritatingly enough, misplaced twenty pages from the end. How annoying is that?

The Polysyllabic Spree is a reprint of columns Hornby wrote for American literature magazine, The Believer. At the beginning of each one he lists the books he read that month and the books he bought, before going on to write down his thoughts on them.

It's kind of odd that I enjoyed the columns, despite Hornby and I having very different tastes. I like most of his books, sure - About A Boy, High Fidelity, and How to be Good come to mind - but, for instance, I've never gotten along with Dickens, which is one of his favourites. I also love sci-fi, which Hornby just cannot understand (really, he says that himself). In fact, I'm now determined to go check out Iain M. Banks' work at the library, based solely on a few paragraphs of Hornby's bafflement. Not at the fact of his bafflement, but because the bits he described seemed really, really interesting, and not baffling at all.

Oh, I've just spotted Hornby's latest book, Juliet, Naked on the pile at the end of my bed. That was one of the books I bought at the airport at New Years, on my way to Aberdeen.

Speaking of books I bought at New Years, I finally read that one by Derren Brown, Tricks of the Mind. I found it absolutely fascinating, and finished it over two days. I really couldn't put it down.

Tricks of the Mind
is basically about whatever Derren Brown felt like writing. It's aimed towards the general public, and contains a little information on his life, but a lot more information on memory tricks. Did you know, for instance, that in 2004, the final score of the FA Cup Final was Manchester United 3, Millwall 0? I am never going to forget that, after reading the following paragraph;

'04: M3, Millwall 0. Whore: mum, wall 0. Let's convert 'Millwall' into 'wall' to seperate it from the other Ms. Who's that whore? Why it's my own mother (God forgive me), stood against a wall, making nothing at all.


...makes me crack up everytime.

What he's done there is convert the information into words and formed those into an interesting image that you won't want to forget. '4' becomes 'whore' because it rhymes, while '3', using a slightly different number system, becomes an 'm' sound (because an m has three prongs). 'Man U' become M, Millwall is wall. The nil score isn't converted, because we can use it as it is.

That's only a very short overview of that system, but you had to know that much to understand that paragraph, which is the single funniest thing I've read all year.

The book also covers a little about hypnotism, and some of Derren Brown's feelings on mystics and mediums (he disapproves) among other things. It's fascinating if you're the sort of person who likes to know how things work (I only recently realised that some people don't - they're happy to enjoy something without identifying all the peices. How very odd).

I was hoping that that book would last me for the four hour bus journey down to Southampton, but since I finished it so quickly, I got started on the next one - rereading Maureen McCormick's Here's the Story: Surviving Marcia Brady and Finding My True Voice (incidentally, I managed to finish that on my journey down to the bus stop).

Maureen McCormick played the original Marcia Brady, and that's all most people know about her. I admit, I wanted the book simply because she was my favourite character. I didn't even realise she played Judy in Teen Angel, and I loved that show.

McCormick's a very interesting person, too. I think I would like to be her friend. I like how candid she is about her attraction to men, and the frank way in which she discusses her past drug problems. She still looks beautiful, too.

I like biographies. I'm not always in the mood for them, but it's always interesting reading about people's lives.

Maureen McCormick
did a cameo on Scrubs in 2003. I use a screenshot of that as one of my usericons on livejournal, but you can see the whole clip here, lucky blog readers.



I wonder what it was like for her, after being haunted by Marcia for so many years to say on TV "my name is Maureen McCormick", and then to be shushed? It doesn't seem to have been a big deal for her, but I find that it kind of sums up the influence Marcia has had on McCormick's public life.

Thursday, 4 March 2010

In Which We Discuss March 2010

A record of the books I've read this month;



Number Name Author Date Began Date Finished
1 Tricks of the MindDerren Brown


06/3/20107/3/2010

2 Here's the StoryMaureen McCormack


7/3/2010


8/3/2010


3 The Polysyllabic Spree


Nick Hornby


8/3/2010


17/3/2010
4 Nemi


Lisa Myhre


10/3/2010


10/3/2010


5 Smoke and MirrorsNeil Gaiman


2009


12/3/2010


6 Blind FaithBen Elton

15/3/2010


16/3/2010


7 Tent


Margaret Atwood


16/3/2010


18/3/2010


8 Popco


Scarlett Thomas


18/3/2010


22/3/2010
9 Bringing Down the House


Ben Mezrich


22/3/2010


26/3/2010
10 Light as a FeatherHelen Dunne

26/3/2010


27/3/2010


11 The Toymaker


Jeremy De Qiudt


27/3/2010


28/3/2010


12 Phone Sex


Miranda Austin


28/3/2010


29/3/2010
13 Dead Famous

Ben Elton

30/3/2010

31/3/2010

14 Songs of the Humpbacked WhaleJodi Picoult

31/3/2010

???


I'm going to split this into monthly posts, and then put it all together next year.

Annoyingly, I think I've missed a few between the 12th and 16th of the month.

Wednesday, 3 February 2010

In Which We Discuss February 2010

A record of the books I've read this month;



Number Name Author Date Began Date Finished
1 The Girl with Glass Feet
Ali Shaw

8/2/2010
10/2/2010
2 Misfile, volume 1



Chris Hazelton

10/2/2010
10/2/2010
3
Cadbury's Purple Reign

John Bradley

10/2/2010


1/6/2010
4 Misfile, volume 2
Chris Hazelton

10/2/2010

11/2/2010
5 Misfile, volume 3



Chris Hazelton

11/2/2010
11/2/2010
6 Misfile, volume 4
Chris Hazelton

11/2/2010
11/2/2010

7
Misfile, volume 5
Chris Hazelton

11/2/2010
11/2/2010

8
Misfile, volume 6


Chris Hazelton



11/2/2010


11/2/2010

9
Misfile, volume 7


Chris Hazelton



11/2/2010


12/2/2010

10
The Fairy Godmother
Mercedes Lackey



11/2/2010


13/2/2010

11
Misfile, volume 8Chris Hazelton


12/2/2010



12/2/2010

12
Misfile, volume 9Chris Hazelton


12/2/2010


12/2/2010

13
Misfile, volume 10
Chris Hazelton




12/2/2010



13/2/2010

14
The Wish List
Eoin Colfer




13/2/2010


14/2/2010

15
Misfile, volume 11
Chris Hazelton




12/2/2010



13/2/2010

16
The First Casualty
Ben Elton




14/2/2010


22/2/2010

17
Silver Birch, Blood Moon
Various; Edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling




15/2/2010


17/2/2010

18
Black Thorn, White Rose
Various; Edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling



17/2/201019/2/2010

19
One Good Knight
Mercedes Lackey




22/2/2010



23/2/2010

20


Inconceivable
Ben Elton


23/2/2010



25/2/2010

21


Save Karyn
Karyn Bosnak




25/2/2010


4/3/2010

22




Pet Sematary



Stephen King




28/2/2010



6/3/2010


I'm going to split this into monthly posts, and then put it all together next year.

Saturday, 23 January 2010

In Which We Discuss Kevin (Again)

Last night, I finished re-reading Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk About Kevin. I first read this back in 2008, and wrote a very short review of it here.

The rest of this post is going to assume that you've read the novel too, and will discuss major spoilers. If you haven't, then look away now. If you don't think you will ever read it, I'm going to quote a blurb after this so you can make up your mind properly. If you're still with us after that, don't cry about being spoiled, k?



Nature or Nurture: What makes a monster?

Kevin Khatchadourian killed seven of his fellow high-school students, a cafeteria worker and a teacher, shortly before his sixteenth birthday. He is visited in prison by his mother, Eva, who narrates in a series of letters to her estranged husband Franklin the story of Kevin's upbringing.

A successful career woman, Eva is reluctant to forgo her independence and the life she shares with Franklin to become a mother. Once Kevin is born she experiences extreme alienation and dislike of Kevin as he grows up to become a spiteful and cruel child. When Kevin commits his murderous act, Eva fears that her own shortcomings may have shaped what her son has become. But how much is she to blame?



As I said in my other post, in my first reading, I found the narration flowery. It threw me out of the story at first, and although it is semi-justified by the fact that Eva does write for a living, and is quite well-educated, I still found it quite jarring. I suppose it's also justified by Kevin's skill with words - his English teacher describes his writing as worthy of Swift, and comments on his vocabulary - since there are quite a few hints about just how much Kevin has inherited from Eva.

I also found the narrative to move irritatingly slowly. I wanted to find out what happened when he was (three days from) sixteen, not about before he was born, or what he was like as a baby or a toddler. But, when I did find out precisely what had happened when he was sixteen, I understood the point. I realised (especially after this second read-through) that I'd missed the whole story.

One major strength this novel has is in characterisation. The characters which are mainly dealt with are those of Kevin and Eva. In a book of almost four hundred pages, they are on every single one of them. They seem real, believable, solid. In contrast, more secondary characters like Franklin and Celia seem almost two dimensional and flat. But then, that's the point - the point of the novel is to understand Kevin and Eva as individuals, and as they relate to each other. As Eva herself acknowledges, this isn't something that can be easily explained - it's best understood by piling up all those little moments and anecdotes which seem flimsy by themselves, in order to build up a stronger understanding. This is what Shriver does, masterfully, over the course of those four hundred pages. Reading the novel a second time, knowing what was coming, I could take my time to fully absorb this.

The twist at the end of the novel changes ones viewpoint of Eva. She's not just an incidental character; she's important. She's the one member of Kevin's family whom he decided not to kill. Reading it over again, it becomes more apparent that Eva and Kevin were too alike. He didn't come from nowhere - his traits can be traced back, through his mother, and through other members of his family. It's this single combination that's deadly.

I also suspect that my own growth has changed my viewpoint. I've gone from nineteen to twenty-one between the times I read this book, and I've discovered the concept of Childfree. While I'm beginning to suspect that I'm merely childless, and not childfree - I'm a fence-sitter - I whole heartedly agree with the idea that no one should be expected to have children, just because they can and it's what their parents did.

Knowing about the childfree also makes it easier to understand the way that a mother can simply not like her own child. Again, as Eva comments in the novel, getting pregnant - or rather, trying to - is like leaving a door open. You never know which stranger is going to walk in.

A lot of people talk about loving their children no matter who they are, and what they're like. Can that really be called love, that undiscriminating, unspecific affection? If it makes no difference what they're like, then could you not love a wall just as easily? I suspect that's the difference Kevin noticed between his parents. His father loved him because he was his son. His mother disliked him because he was Kevin. And, in the end, he showed very clearly that he preferred his mother to his father.

I don't think the book has any huge point or moral. I just think it portrays a fascinating relationship, and I found that I could appreciate that much better the second time.