Tuesday 28 December 2010

#94 The Heart of the Matter, by Graham Greene (Vintage)

After The Ministry of Fear gave me such a wonderful introduction to Graham Greene, I'm afraid I was again left slightly disappointed by The Heart of the Matter, my third Greene novel of the year.

On reflection, I think it's been the pace of The Heart of the Matter and The Quiet American which has caused this reaction. Throughout both novels, you feel like you're meandering your way through the story, to the extent that it feels like there is a lack of purpose. That might not be true, but that's the impression created - one which dovetails quite nicely in the attitude of Scobie, the main character in The Heart of the Matter.

Scobie is a police officer in a war-time African state, forced to endure the heat, the mistrust of colleagues, a struggling relationship with his wife and more. He stoicly tries to do his job and maintain his faith, only to end up with an equally loveless and complicated relationship with another woman and blackmailed by a local gangster.

It's a story about suffering, whether that's the incidents which Scobie must investigate, his relationships or the inner turmoil he endures, and perhaps because of that, it's a difficult novel to warm to, and rarely enjoyable, for all that it retains the reader's interest.

So, rating time:

#94 The Heart of the Matter, by Graham Greene (Vintage) - 6/10

Next up: Player One, by Douglas Coupland (William Heinnemann)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #93 The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell (Little, Brown)

    I've become a bit of a Malcolm Gladwell convert recently, as you'll be able to tell by the fact that The Tipping Point is my third book by the same sociological author in a matter of months. But it's another remarkable book.

    The beauty of Gladwell's writing is that he takes everyday familar occurances and applies a microscope to them to reveal their deeper meaning and what they tell us about ourselves and the human race. In lesser hands, the result would be incredibly dry, even boring, but Gladwell chooses his subjects wisely, tells a fine tale and infuses his stories with drama and rich context.

    Two days after finishing this book, which nominally explores 'how small things made a big difference', I was telling someone how vervets are amazingly attuned to other vervets, but despite evolution's greatest efforts, still cannot recognise the tracks made by their greatest predators.

    As Gladwell writes: "Vervets have been known to waltz into a thicket, ignoring a fresh trail of python tracks, and then act stunned when they actually come across the snake itself." Yet vervets are "incredibly sophisicated when it comes to questions about other vervets. If vervets hear a baby vervet's cry of distress, they will look immediately not in the direction of the baby, but at its mother - they know instantly whose baby it is."

    You jump from that to what television programme Sesame Street, a syphilis epidemic and the war on crime in New York, which started with tackling graffiti on the subway, can tell you about how ideas, trends and social behaviours are spread around the world, and how learning lessons from suicide can help combat smoking.

    It's truly fascinating, and my only disappointment is that I'm running out of books by Gladwell to read. And vervets.

    So, rating time:

    #93 The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell (Little, Brown) - 9/10

    Next up: The Heart of the Matter, by Graham Greene (Vintage)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • The finish line approaches

    A quick question - what's more important, the reading of the books, or the blogging?

    This is something I've given plenty of thought as the end of the year - and the end of this 12-month, 100-book challenge - approaches. Unfortunately, and sorry for sounding like a broken record, but this is one of my busiest times of the year work-wise, and when you couple that with a Christmas that was anything but relaxing, featuring long drives, gas leaks and lots of cooking, my leisure time has suffered.

    As a result, I've had to prioritise. Rather than a blow-by-blow account of the challenge, I've been forced to focus on the actual reading. But I didn't want any readers to become disheartened by my seeming lack of progress, so I thought it best to post a quick update...

    So, it's been 20 days since my last confession, and I have now finished 98 books.

    These were:

    #93 The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell (Little, Brown)

    #94 The Heart of the Matter, by Graham Greene (Vintage)

    #95 Player One, by Douglas Coupland (William Heinnemann)

    #96 Road Dogs, by Elmore Leonard (Pheonix)

    #97 Four-iron in the soul, by Lawrence Donegan (Penguin Group)

    #98 Fevre Dream, by George RR Martin (Gollancz)

    Reviews will follow, but now I'm starting to consider the all-important question: what will be the identity of my last book.

    Number 99 has been selected - Our Man in Hibernia, by Charlie Connelly. It's a book I've been looking forward to reading for most of the year, not least because the author is a friend - not that I will allow that to affect my notoriously stingy marking.

    But what of number 100. I'll try to keep you posted...

    NB: And The Friend of the Wench is up to 98 as well!

    Saturday 18 December 2010

    #92 The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom (Little, Brown)

    I had conflicting emotions after turning the last page of Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven. On the one hand, I found the novel, the death of an elderly maintenance man who works at a fairground, overly simple. But it's deceptively effective and, for all that I'm not one for the subject of religion, which is as integral as the title suggests, it was quite moving at times.

    In contrast to The Grapes of Wrath, this isn't a book to dwell on, and it's a nice easy read - just what I needed at this stage of the challenge. And while I bridled a bit at the portrait of heaven which was portrayed, there were a number of nice touches.

    Some background is probably needed. Eddie dies (don't worry, it's not much of a spoiler) and enters heaven, where he meets five people who have influenced his life, or whose lives he has influenced (hence the title) - whether he was aware of it at the time or not.

    It's a clever idea, which doesn't lessen as the book progresses, and speaking (or writing) as someone who's a big fan of the interconnectedness of life, and its holistic nature, I enjoyed the links between each character and the underlying sentiment that although Eddie himself believed he had wasted his life ensuring that the fairground rides were safe, it wasn't until he died that he could appreciate how much joy he had brought to the children through the rides.

    That said, I think it's always difficult when authors or directors start to define concepts such as heaven, because it's always more powerful in the imagination - whether you believe in such things or not, and, having finished the book around a week ago, my biggest criticism is that The Five People You Meet in Heaven doesn't make much of a lasting impression.

    So, rating time:

    #92 The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom (Little, Brown) - 7/10

    Next up: The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell (Little, Brown)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #91 The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck (Penguin Group)

    Well, it's finished. No, not the challenge, but my reading of The Grapes of Wrath - a Pultizer Prize-winning novel and acknowledged American classic. But I found it awfully hard-going at the start.

    I love author John Steinbeck, and Of Mice and Men is among my favourite novels, but I've always been a bit daunted by The Grapes of Wrath, as much for its sweeping look at the Great Depression as its not insignificant length. Suffice to say, I've renewed this book no fewer than five times since I withdrew it from the libary in mid-October...

    But the book itself is a masterpiece. While it's relatively easy to portray events - if difficult to do it well - to create a mood is much harder, and to create one which so pervades the novel a barely believable triumph.

    The Grapes of Wrath begins with despair and fear as the Joad family leaves the Oklahoma dustbowl and year after year of failed crop harvests in search of work in the promised land of California, and relates how they hang on to hope in spite of the hardship and sacrifice they encounter.

    It's a 'hard' book in many ways. The suffering is huge, while the language is so evocative that the reader feels like the family, making progress so slowly that persistence and resilience are required in abundance. Every alternate chapter gives a short overview of the plight of families like the Joads and reinforces the magnitude of their plight in the 1930s.

    And yet. Despite the fight for food, the lack of work, the absence of a home, the ill treatment by police and Californian residents, strikes, the gruelling nature of the pilgrimage west, illness and even death, The Grapes of Wrath is above all an inspirational story of hope and how family and human nature can overcome almost anything.

    I could go on, but I'll limit myself to one more word: excellent.

    So, rating time:

    #91 The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck (Penguin Group) - 9/10

    Next up: The Five People You Meet in Heaven , by Mitch Albom (Little, Brown)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Tuesday 7 December 2010

    #90 Mortal Causes, by Ian Rankin (Orion)

    You know you're in safe hands with Detective Inspector John Rebus, not to mention his creator, Ian Rankin.

    It's easy to dismiss a series such as this as straightforward crime novels. It's indisputable that that's what they are. They're relatively easy to read and very entertaining, but that wouldn't be giving Rankin nearly enough credit, because it takes great skill to construct something as simple and effective.

    Over the years, I've dipped in and out of the Rebus series, to the extent that I'm never quite sure which ones I've previously read. That it doesn't really matter where in the series you enter, and that each novel brings a huge amount of satisfaction and pleasure, probably explains why I keep returning.

    Rankin's chief success lies in his depiction of Edinburgh, as much a character in his books as Rebus himself. And in a world where the latest book, television programme or film contains so many twists and turns at every corner that it leaves you wondering which way you're facing, Rankin's low-key plotting and gradual reveal makes a nice change.

    Not that there aren't a few shocks. The world Rebus inhabits - in the case of Mortal Causes, one where paramilitary terrorist activity is encroaching on the detective's world - is a nasty one, full of murder and violence, lying and cheating, much of it conducted by Rebus himself.

    But Rebus always remains the man you'd like out on the streets tackling crooks on your behalf - just as long as we can read all about it.

    So, rating time:

    #90 Mortal Causes, by Ian Rankin (Orion) - 7/10

    Next up: The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Sunday 5 December 2010

    #89 Breathing Lessons, by Anne Tyler (Vintage)

    After reading The Accidental Tourist, I told my More Literary Work Colleague that I hadn't been hugely impressed with Anne Tyler, only to be be put firmly in my place, to the extent that I felt inclined to give another of her books a go. Breathing Lessons was that book.

    It was both an improvement and an interesting read - not least because for the first time this year, I've seen something of myself in one of the characters.

    Breathing Lessons revolves around one day in the life of the ever-optimistic yet misguided Maggie, who cannot help meddling in the lives of those around her. She thinks nothing of telling a tiny lie if she believes it will reconnect her son with his errant wife and child, and as the novel progresses, it becomes clear that similar small mistruths in the past have led to this unfortunate and unhappy point.

    Maggie's husband is the stoic Ira, a quiet man who tries to get on with life, is keen to avoid arguments, is happy to accept situations which have developed and believes it is pointless to try to change the past. I identified with him a lot.

    The events related within Breathing Lessons are quite mundane - going to a funeral, going to see your grandchild, dealing with family illness - but the realism of the relationships which are portayed is what makes the novel worth reading.

    So, rating time:

    #89 Breathing Lessons, by Anne Tyler (Vintage) - 7/10

    Next up: Mortal Causes, by Ian Rankin (Orion)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #88 No and Me, by Delphine De Vigan (Bloomsbury)

    Unable to get to the library after running out of books to read, I actually had to invest in a new book to maintain my momentum as the final month of this challenge approached. I didn't have much time, I was only able to dash into a WH Smith while collecting some contact lenses from the store opposite, and the novel I ended up with was No and Me.

    The last time I hastily selected a book emblazoned with a sticker denoting it had been chosen by Richard and Judy's Book Club, I was rewarded with a novel of surprising excellence: How to Talk to a Widower, which I've praised many times before. Unfortunately, No and Me didn't have quite the same impact.

    Despite having previously studied French Literature and the likes of Moliere and Camus, I read the translated version, and I'm afraid I was left a bit disappointed.

    The tale of a child genius, Lou, who befriends and starts to care for a homeless girl, No, after she agrees to help her with a school project, it's by no means bad or without interest. But for a book which has homelessness as its main subject, it's a bit too light and frothy for my taste, not grimy enough at all. Indeed, I've since been interested to learn that this was marketed as an adult book in France, but has been targeted at the more teen and chick-lit market in this country.

    There are some nice touches. The impact of No on Lou's family and how she helps them to heal while her own life continues to disintegrate is a poignant contrast, and I enjoyed Lou's random experiments on everyday objects.

    But while their relationships between the duo, and older, cooler friend Lucas ring true, I can't help feeling the way the story puts a lot of emphasis on the fact the Lou has an incredibly high IQ of 160 for a 13-year-old is partly used by the author to get around the issue of her precocious language, which never seems realistic.

    So, rating time:

    #88 No and Me, by Delphine De Vigan (Bloomsbury) - 6/10

    Next up: Breathing Lessons, by Anne Tyler (Vintage)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #87 Sharpe's Company, by Bernard Cornwall (Harper Collins)

    A friend of mine, Big Gay Rob, swears by Sharpe (almost more than Sharpe does himself in the novels). His girlfriend doesn't mind; she reckons Sean Bean, who played Richard Sharpe in the television series of the books, is 'all man'. And I have to admit that, after finishing Sharpe's Company, I can't argue with either point of view.

    Sharpe's Company is the proverbial right rollicking read. You're never more than a heartbeat away from another battle, another betrayal, another beautiful woman to catch Sharpe's eye amid the never-ending plot and intrigue of an army at war.

    The focus of this book is the Siege of Badajoz in Spain in the early 1800s, and things aren't going well. Sharpe's lost his captaincy and is being bated by an enemy within the ranks, while the battle isn't going any better...

    That he's going to come through it all is never in any doubt, and there is very little to surprise readers. But there is plenty of frenetic fun and excitement en route as Sharpe bests what appear to be insurmoutable odds to win the battle, protect his woman and rid the army of (a bit of) corruption.

    The above is all well and good, of course. But even as a relative newcomer, I know author Bernard Cornwell prides himself on his historical accuracy, and the authenticity of the setting and the events combines with even the most outlandish plot to produce a very enjoyable book.

    So, rating time:

    #87 Sharpe's Company, by Bernard Cornwall (Harper Collins) - 8/10

    Next up: No and Me, by Delphine De Vigan (Bloomsbury)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #86 The Heart of a Goof, by PG Wodehouse (Everyman's Library)

    Another PG Wodehouse, and another book from the great man about sport, but this time it's golf which is the focus of The Heart of a Goof.

    Earlier this year, I read a book devoted to Wodehouse's love of cricket and the effect of the sport on his work. It now seems surprising that there was no mention of golf, because Wodehouse clearly has a deep affection for the game, and, in a foreword, even mounts a vociferous defence against any potential criticism that he is wasting words on what some might consider an inconsequential subject.

    As if I didn't like Wodehouse enough already, he points out that it's through golf and other sports that real drama is created and is most truly evident. Which is exactly the argument I make to the Wench when I want to watch a significant sporting event...

    But enough of that. The book itself is a collection of short stories, but has the neat trick that each is introduced and related by the same person, 'the Oldest Member' of a golf club, who adroitely traps someone into listening to his latest tale. With some of the stories also containing the same characters, it never feels like a simple compilation, though, and there is plenty of progression and real character depth.

    You're never far from a humorous situation with Wodehouse, and of all the authors I have read this year, there isn't one who is easier to read and who makes turning the pages such an reflex action - and so enjoyable.

    So, rating time:

    #86 The Heart of a Goof, by PG Wodehouse (Everyman's Library) - 8/10

    Next up: Sharpe's Company, by Bernard Cornwall (Harper Collins)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Friday 3 December 2010

    #85 Magnificent Bastards, by Rich Hall (Abacus)

    I'm a big fan of the stand-up comedy of Rich Hall, one of the more intelligent and laconic comedians on the current circuit, but Magnificent Bastards, his collection of tall tales, didn't inspire the same pleasure.

    It's perfectly fine, and there are some nice touches within the short stories, particularly with regard to the creation of some quirky characters. But the collection is quite disparate and never really gels together to become a greater sum than its parts.

    The best story is of a man who vacuums prairie dogs as he plots to reclaim his family home, but on the flip side there is a bizarrely hyperbolic tale of a girl who invites 45,000 MySpace friends to a party at her house.

    So, rating time:

    #85 Magnificent Bastards, by Rich Hall (Abacus) - 6/10

    Next up: The Heart of a Goof, by PG Wodehouse (Everyman's Library)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #84 What the Dog Saw, by Malcolm Gladwell (Penguin Books)

    Giving it 10/10 probably tells you all you need to know, but further evidence of how much I liked Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers is the fact that I more or less went straight out and bought another of his books, What the Dog Saw.

    It's not as good. But that's like comparing Asafa Powell to Usain Bolt. In anyone's terms, when it comes to running very quickly indeed, Powell is outstanding. But he's not Bolt.

    Anyway, metaphors aside, it's a fascinating read, as Gladwell turns his attention to finding interesting stories in apparently any mundane subject he puts under his microscope, whether it's the failure of companies to compete with Heinz's Tomato Ketchup to what hair dye advertising did for the empowerment of women, which was my favourite tale, and the dangers of over-analysing decisions with the benefit of hindsight.

    So, rating time:

    #84 What the Dog Saw, by Malcolm Gladwell (Penguin Books) - 8/10

    Next up: Next up: Magnificent Bastards, by Rich Hall (Abacus)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #83 The Wire Re-up, edited by Steve Busfield and Paul Owen (Guardian Books)

    I received The Wire Re-up from the Wench for Christmas, but there is a reason why I've only just got around to finishing it.

    The book is a mixture of articles, interviews, and viewers' responses, views and interpretations to the groundbreaking American TV drama, the "best thing that has ever been on television" etc. Stop me if you've heard this all before.

    Because the books follows each episode of the programme, in sequence, it was my plan at the start of the year to watch each hour-long show before reading the appropriate section. Unfortunately, that's an extra 60 hours of television to add to this challenge, and when I realised I was only four episodes in about a month ago, I swiftly abandoned those plans.

    So how's the book? Pretty good, as it goes, and while it's clearly a 'present product' (the Wench bought it me for Christmas, I bought it for my dad) and has its share of filler, such as a quiz set by the actors, it also contains a large amount of serious study and discussion about the show, with many of the best bits coming from viewers themselves who responded to a Guardian blog.

    I should confess that I followed the blog avidly, albeit as a lurker without having the confidence to offer my own opinions. Perhaps this posting redresses the balance.

    It's interesting that the main thing I took away from The Wire Re-up was a reminder of how funny the programme was/is. It's a show of such realism, containing so many horrors and appalling violence, that you forget the many laugh-out-loud moments.

    You wouldn't read this book without having watched The Wire, and I can imagine that many people would consider all the philosophising about a television programme incredibly pompous. But it's their loss.

    So, rating time:

    #83 The Wire Re-up, edited by Steve Busfield and Paul Owen (Guardian Books) - 7/10

    Next up: What the Dog Saw, by Malcolm Gladwell (Penguin Books)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • One month to go

    I know it's technically December 3rd, but I meant to write this two days ago - so after 11 months of a life dominated by fictional works, let's just pretend...

    Regular readers may have noticed that the blogs have dried up of late, the result of a combination of an excruciating work schedule and my computer going kaput. It's a technical term. Even this posting isn't going to have a nice accompanying photo because it's too much hassle on the computer I'm now using.

    However, the one thing that hasn't suffered is my reading. And although my yearly total alongside apparently remains rigidly stuck on 82 - falling a fair way short of my nemesis, the Friend of the Wench - he may be somewhat disconcerted to learn I may not be quite so far behind as he thinks.

    So, coming up over the next few days as I play catch-up, are reviews of the following:

    The Wire Re-up, edited by Steve Busfield and Paul Owen (Guardian Books)

    What the Dog Saw, by Malcolm Gladwell (Penguin Books)

    Magnificent Bastards, by Rich Hall (Abacus)

    The Heart of a Goof, by PG Wodehouse (Everyman's Library)

    Sharpe's Company, by Bernard Cornwall (Harper Collins)

    No and Me, by Delphine De Vigan (Bloomsbury)

    Breathing Lessons, by Anne Tyler (Vintage)

    So, here we go...

    Sunday 7 November 2010

    #82 The Accidental Tourist, by Anne Tyler (Vintage)

    Nick Hornby is one of my favourite writers, but I’m going to have to stop taking his advice about books to read. The front of my copy of The Accidental Tourist, by Anne Tyler, sees Hornby proclaiming it is ‘brilliant, funny, sad and sensitive”, while the reverse sees the effusive writer of the likes of Fever Pitch saying ‘My favourite writer, and the best line-and-length novelist in the world, is Anne Tyler”.

    It’s statements like those which influence my book selections for this challenge, but much like One Day, I find that, unfortunately, Hornby’s tastes don’t tally with my own.

    I can’t entirely blame Nick. The Accidental Tourist is a Pulitzer Prize-nominated novel, so it’s clear that at least some critics agree with Hornby rather than me, and William Hurt, Kathleen Turner and Geena Davis starred in an award-winning film of the same name. But while the story was entertaining enough, it never gripped me. It was never funny enough or poignant enough to generate in me the emotional response that others have apparently experienced.

    Like How to Talk to a Widower, the main character is a man recovering from grief, in his case the death of his son. He is a guidebook writer for businessmen who have no intention of seeing the sights of the places they visit, but just want to know about their home comforts – the Accidental Tourist in question. But he’s also an accidental tourist in his own life, a man who is unable to engage with others and loses his marriage as a consequence.

    Into his life enters a bizarre dog trainer, who gives him the strength to rebuild his life and lead to him having to actively make a decision on how he wants to spend his remaining days, but I was never significantly moved by the ups and downs and twists and turns. Sure, there were times I raised a chuckle, but I never reached the emotional highs and lows Nick hinted at. It’s my loss, I know.

    So, rating time:

    #82 The Accidental Tourist, by Anne Tyler (Vintage) - 6/10

    Next up: The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #81 Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley (Vintage)

    “Our library,” says a character in Brave New World in reply to a question as to whether the shelves have any Shakespeare, “contains only books of reference. If our young people need distraction, they can get it [elsewhere]. We don’t encourage them to indulge in any solitary amusements.”

    It’s a paragraph which sums up Brave New World, Aldous Huxley’s classic view of a future in which the majority of people have not a care in the world, where war and conflict has been eradicated – but where people have merely become automatons. The contrast is provided by the savage reservations, where people have complete freedom but are forced to live primitively, forcing the conclusion that with technological progress comes a loss of liberty – a concept with which any Blackberry user would quickly concur.

    Appropriately enough for this blog, literature features strongly in Brave New World. The title of the book is taken from The Tempest (Shakespeare is prominent throughout) and reading itself is a form of rebellion.

    The beauty of Brave New World is its satirical subtlety. Huxley could have laid his vision of a Dystopian future on with a trowel, but it’s the smaller points which have the greatest impact. The founder of the new world order is Henry Ford, who has become a religious icon, so people exclaim ‘Ford!’ instead of ‘God’ or ‘Jesus’ and make the sign of the ‘T’ (for the Model T Ford) instead of the cross.

    The most disturbing elements relate to the reproduction techniques now being used by civilised society and the promiscuity which is so prevalent, but rather than portray black and white, Huxley makes sure to paint many of the alternatives just as bleakly. It’s a book, like HG Wells’ The Time Machine or George Orwell’s1984, which poses many philosophical questions and is rather short on hope.

    To that end, many claim some of Huxley’s writings have already become true. We have not yet got individual helicopters, but what’s ‘soma’ if it’s not Prozac or similar drugs, while amid recession we are encourage to embrace consumerism (“ending is better than mending; the less stitches, the more riches”).

    If I had one criticism of Brave New World, it’s the ending. The plot – much criticised upon publication, apparently - isn’t exactly pulsating with life, and things come to a conclusion which is too neat, if still dreadful.

    Overall then, Brave New World is on the ‘classics’ list for a reason. And you can read what the Friend of the Wench made of it here.

    So, rating time:

    #81 Brave New World, By Aldous Huxley (Vintage) - 8/10

    Next up: The Accidental Tourist, by Anne Tyler (Vintage)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Saturday 6 November 2010

    #80 The Ballad of Trenchmouth Taggart, by Glenn Taylor (Blue Door)

    Early ‘Trenchmouth’ Taggart must be one of the most incredible characters I’ve read this year, and this novel, the story of the life of a man who is an outlaw, murderer, deadshot, inventor, woodsman, musician, journalist and much more, one of the most incredible tales.

    It’s a book that while you’re reading it, you’re caught up in the bizarre twists and turns he takes, from nearly drowning as a baby and receiving the oral infection which would give rise to his nickname to his final days protecting the environment and his family. Not forgetting the alcoholism, mental instability, Blues innovator, outcast and union strike periods and more in between. But once it’s completed, you take stock and ponder just how believable it really all was.

    In many ways, it doesn’t matter. I’ve read many books where so much time has been spent establishing the setting that the story itself suffers. Here, the story, a real old American take, undoubtedly takes precedence and while I’m sure the places and timeline have been exhaustively researched, it wouldn’t make much difference if they hadn’t.

    Whether you enjoy The Ballad of Trenchmouth Taggart will depend on what you think of the main character, an anti-hero who is compelling and repellent by turns. Me, I alternated between the two, and these feelings mirrored what I thought of the book as a whole.

    So, rating time:

    #80 The Ballad of Trenchmouth Taggart, by Glenn Taylor (Blue Door) - 6/10

    Next up: Brave New World, By Aldous Huxley (Vintage)

    #79 Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell (Penguin Group)

    Utterly brilliant.

    If you’re judging the merits of the books I’m reading by the length of the reviews they generate, you’re going to be sorely disappointed in this instance because I could write for hours on the brilliance of Outliers and not do it justice. So I’m not even going to try. Suffice to say, if you haven’t read it, you’re missing out, and despite only finishing it the other day, I’ve managed to bore several people on its subject already.

    A sociological study at its heart, prospective readers shouldn’t fear. Malcolm Gladwell is never anything other than a fascinating storyteller and intersperses his points, many of which are extremely provocative, with some entertaining case studies into the lives of Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Canadian professional ice hockey players and Korean pilots and much, much more – even his own family.

    Gladwell’s objective is to discover which factors contribute to someone’s success, whether reaching the top - and he’s talking about the very top - of a profession, can simply be down to innate talent and hard work, or whether it matters in which month of the year you were born. His investigations and conclusions are often incredible.

    From the lessons educational systems can take from rice paddy fields, to the cultural causes of plane crashes, Outliers is gripping, inspirational, thought-provoking and, thanks to a wonderful writing style which regularly makes the complex seem simple, very readable indeed. Go read it.

    So, rating time:

    #79 Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell (Penguin Group) - 10/10

    Next up: The Ballad of Trenchmouth Taggart, by Glenn Taylor (Blue Door)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #78 Better Late Than Never, by Len Goodman (Ebury Press)

    A bit of a bizarre addition to the canon of 100 books for the year, perhaps. However, The Wench was given Better Late Than Never, the autobiography by Strictly Come Dancing judge Len Goodman as a joke by a friend, and given Goodman owns and runs a dance school opposite the library I regular visit, it seemed a fitting choice.

    I was midway through – and struggling with – John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath at the time, and I fancied something a little easier on the brain. Goodman certainly obliges with a very readable account of his life, from East End boy to television star, and it’s a lot better than I expected. And while Goodman’s easy-going recollections and honesty are the main reasons for this, it would be churlish not to also credit ghost writer Richard Havers, who does a fine job.

    Living and working near to a lot of the areas where Goodman grew up, the likes of Dartford, Welling and Blackfen, I found his early life the most interesting part of his autobiography. It’s not without humour, and there are some poignant stories which effectively convey a time and place. Goodman knows how to tell a self-deprecating tale, doesn’t hide from the poor decisions in his life or admitting the regrets he has, and comes across as a pretty decent bloke, much as he does on telly.

    Unfortunately, the more the book focuses on dancing, the more I found myself switching off. Of course, you can hardly tell the story of Goodman’s life without examining the role dancing has had, but while the early days - his introduction to ballroom and Latin American and early competition success - ignite interest in the reader, the later focus on endless competitions provoked ennui.

    Finally, we come to Strictly, and here Goodman wastes the rapport he has established with the reader. A couple of looks at the darker side of the BBC show apart – a moan about one of the professional dancers and a regret regarding some comments to Kelly Brook – Goodman’s previous frankness evaporates. You get the feeling he’s holding back, and even though that might not be a surprise as he continues to star on the primetime show, it still disappoints.

    So, rating time:

    #78 Better Late Than Never, by Len Goodman (Ebury Press) - 7/10

    Next up: Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Sunday 24 October 2010

    #77 The Quiet American, by Graham Greene (Vintage)

    Well, here’s a turn-up for the books (challenge). I was really looking forward to reading another Graham Greene, and The Quiet American is acknowledged as one of his classics, but I really didn’t enjoy it very much at all.

    My main problem was that I struggled to follow the story. It’s not that I didn’t understand it (or at least I don’t think so!), but rather it never became readable enough for me to want to fully comprehend the metaphors and the allegories.

    At the heart of the tale, set in 1950s Indochina, is a love triangle between a native woman, who wants merely to ensure a future for herself, an ambiguous if jaded English reporter and an American officer who turns out to be more than he appears. It’s a hugely political book, with the trio each representing their nations and wider political beliefs, with the Vietnamese Phuong torn between her two suitors, with tension ever increasing on journalist Fowler, one of nature’s observers, to take sides.

    As the evidence mounts of American Pyle’s duplicity and treacherous intentions, despite his honourable behaviour towards Phuong, Fowler realises he has to take action. And so the book, which begins with Pyle’s death, concludes as it was destined. But the route there was so slow and meandering that I only started to care when a particularly horrible explosion takes place late in the piece.

    I can see how The Quiet American, with its relevance to the Vietnam war, can be admired, and perhaps even reviled by some due to its anti-American stance, but either way, it never captured my full attention.

    So, rating time:

    #77 The Quiet American, by Graham Greene (Vintage) - 5/10

    Next up: The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #76 The Observations, by Jane Harris (Faber and Faber Limited)

    It’s hardly Paul Auster, but making observations about The Observations seems a bit surreal. Thankfully, the latter is a book about a newly commissioned young maid and her life and it’s quite a ribald entertaining affair.

    The maid, Bessy Buckley, is as forthright as they come despite her tender years, and even though many phrases she uses are corruptions, nicknames or simply made up, there is no mistaking what she means – hence a disliked reverend is called Reverend Bollix.

    For a book containing such dark subjects, from child prostitution to instable mental health to alcoholism, it’s strange that it retains such a playful air, however, and laughter – both Bessy’s and the reader’s – is never far away.

    That said, for quite a lengthy book, stretching to upwards of 500 pages, I don’t believe I was engrossed at any stage. Interested, but never desperate to find out what was going to happen next.

    So, rating time:

    #76 The Observations, by Jane Harris (Faber and Faber Limited) - 6/10

    Next up: The Quiet American, by Graham Greene (Vintage)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Saturday 23 October 2010

    #75 Leviathan, by Paul Auster (Faber and Faber Limited)

    It cost me about £13 more than it should have done, but I suppose Paul Auster’s latest, Leviathan, was worth it!

    My monetary issues came courtesy of a library fine. Unfortunately, I took out Leviathan around three months ago, but immediately ‘lost’ it. I renewed it online four times – the wonders of the modern library system, about which I promise I will write at some point this year – but then my computer broke, I was busy at work, I forgot about it and [feel free to add any of your own excuses here].

    Thankfully, it turned up, not least because it meant I could pay my fines (my other books were overdue by this stage as well) - but not before I actually managed to read the book!

    I was hooked from the start, Thankfully, Wikipedia provides the opening lines:

    “Six days ago, a man blew himself up by the side of a road in northern Wisconsin. There were no witnesses, but it appears that he was sitting on the grass next to his parked car when the bomb he was building accidentally went off. According to the forensic reports that have just been published, the man was killed instantly. His body burst into dozens of small pieces, and fragments of his corpse were found as far as 50 feet away from the site of the explosion.”

    The subsequent tale, then, is of how events came to pass, pieced together by a struggling author who also relates how he is in a position to tell the story of his best friend. But while things start as a typical ‘thriller’, it’s not long before Auster is subverting the genre to introduce his typical existentialist ideas.

    The usual themes are present; isolationism, the interconnectedness of things and the changing nature of identity, but this is combined with a story which compels you to keep turning the pages.

    If I was being hyper critical, there were one or two coincidences, which Dickens-like become important plot devices which I could have done without, but there’s no denying that Auster consistently provides entertaining, yet intelligent and thoughtful, fare.

    So, rating time:

    #75 Leviathan, by Paul Auster (Faber and Faber Limited) - 8/10

    Next up: The Observations, by Jane Harris (Faber and Faber Limited)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #74 Pied Piper, By Nevil Shute (Vintage)

    Given Nevil Shute is my new favourite author as a result of this book challenge, I had high hopes of Pied Piper. That my perhaps unrealistic expectations were not quite realised was a shame, but that’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy it.

    It’s another ‘love story’ set during the war, and as seems usual in Shute’s stories, the love is a little more complicated than you might expect; not so much between man and woman as between elderly man and the children he is trying to escort to safety, not to mention the love the women who accompanies him has for his late son.

    In contrast to Requiem For a Wren and A Town Like Alice, I never felt fully engaged with the main character, whose idyllic fishing trip in France quickly turns into a battle for survival after the Germans invade and he tries to flee back to England, taking numerous children under his protection en route.

    As usual, Shute’s main characters are imbued with hope and good intentions in the face of life-threatening circumstances, so the reader is really ‘living’ their experiences and wants them to survive, to achieve their goals. But it remains believable, so setbacks - even deaths - are common, and are made all the more effective and affecting.

    The other thing I like about Shute is his ability to tell a simple tale simply. The occasional flashback aside, there are very few gimmicky tricks and cleverness, and the sparse language he uses concentrates your attention on the story.

    Unfortunately, I didn’t find Pied Piper’s story quite as moving and powerful as his afore-mentioned novels - but they were truly excellent, so it’s really picking holes in another fine book.

    So, rating time:

    #74 Pied Piper, By Nevil Shute (Vintage) - 8/10

    Next up: Leviathan, by Paul Auster (Faber and Faber Limited)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #73 The Highest Tide, by Jim Lynch (Bloomsbury Publishing)

    [Puts on American film trailor voiceover deep voice] "In a world where the tide is rising, one boy has the power to alert his fellow man to the dangers to the planet..."

    But this isn’t a film (although the adaptation cannot be too far away), and while The Highest Tide is a fairly charming tale of a small boy alive to the problems caused by the changing environmental nature of the world, with a particular focus on marine life, it doesn’t quite hit home.

    There is a lot to like. The 13-year-old main character Miles is very believable, as knowledgeable about the sea as he is unworldly wise in all other matters, and such is the influence of the sea and its teeming life, it becomes a character in the book on its own merit.

    The media circus which descends on his home after he makes a series of incredible discoveries, and how he deals with the reporters and the attention, is nicely observed, and his relationships with his friends, the aquarium owners to whom he sells his discoveries and his confused former babysitter, with whom he is infatuated, provide plenty of chuckles. But the novel takes a wrong step when a cult, and therefore religion, is introduced after he starts to make prophesies - aided by a ‘psychic’ friend – which start to come true.

    It was a diversion that I could have done without, but that minor negative plus a downbeat ending meant I finished the book less enthusiastic about it than I was halfway through.

    So, rating time:

    #73 The Highest Tide, by Jim Lynch (Bloomsbury Publishing)- 7/10

    Next up: Pied Piper, By Nevil Shute (Vintage)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Tuesday 19 October 2010

    #72 Money, by Martin Amis (Vintage)

    He’s often called the finest English writer of his generation, and Money is supposed one of his best works, so I was looking forward to reading my first Martin Amis book.

    That said, I wasn’t coming into it without any preconceptions. You can’t read a newspaper – particularly the literary sections – without your eyes alighting on yet more accusations that Amis is ‘misogynistic’, so I was interested to see whether his words lived up to the hype. Of course, I was also interested to know whether he was any good...

    I came away largely disappointed, in both respects. There’s no denying Amis is a fine writer, but I can’t say I enjoyed Money, a tale of excess in all pursuits, from financial matters to fast food and sex. The narrator and anti-heroic main character is so unsympathetic that you really don’t care what happens to him, even as he tries to extricate himself from various messes which are not entirely of his doing.

    Then there is Martin Amis himself, a character in his own book, and a writer at that. I’ve really got little patience with writers who indulge in this kind of post-modern self-awareness (the main character is even called John Self, by the way). At its best, it’s tacky and pointless. At its worst, it’s cleverness for cleverness’ sake.

    While his prose frequently soars, and there is much to admire in the descriptive assault he makes on readers, there is also a lot of ‘look at me, isn’t my writing clever’ in Money. But while some have criticised the unimaginative plot, I have to say that was the only thing which kept me turning the pages. Loathsome as I found Self, who knows the worth of everything but the value of nothing, I wanted to know the resolution.

    On to the accusations of misogyny. Of course, it’s Self who is misogynistic – women are treated abysmally throughout (it’s noticeable that the one ‘happy’ relationship he discovers is instantly screwed up through his weakness) – rather than Amis, but it’s to such an extent, far beyond normal boundaries, that you can see how such questions are asked. And that’s just after reading one book.

    This is the second book in a row during my challenge, after The New Confessions, to feature the making of a film which is destined never to be made, or at least in the way its director intended. And I wonder whether it’s a metaphor for this challenge, because I’m falling dangerously behind...

    So, rating time:

    #72 Money, by Martin Amis (Vintage)- 7/10

    Next up: The Highest Tide, by Jim Lynch (Bloomsbury Publishing)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #71 The New Confessions, by William Boyd (Penguin Group)

    I’ve come to know many characters this year, but none as vivid or as comprehensive as John James Todd, the ‘star’ of William Boyd’s The New Confessions. I say comprehensive because Boyd leaves nothing out in his depiction of a man who finds and loses fame with the same regularity as his friendships.

    The scope of the book is extraordinary, ranging from the end of the 19th century through Edinburgh, the First World War, Hollywood and McCarthyism, with Todd all the while making decisions in an effort to prolong his fame and ensure he still ‘matters’ which gradually alienate him from his friends, family, colleagues and ultimately the world.

    Todd isn’t a character with which you sympathise, mainly because there is no attempt to shield the reader from the nastier sides of his character. Indeed, he reveals most of it himself. But because he is the heartbeat of the novel, the reader becomes as bound in his adventures as he is himself. You revile him as much as you admire his pursuit of what he deems to be important at whatever stage of his life he has reached, and Boyd’s eye for historical detail brings his world alive, especially the post-war film world of Berlin.
    All in all, it’s a real tour de force. My only issue was with its length and its relentlessness. It’s far from an ‘easy read’ and as much as the attention to detail and the setting of events in a historical context magnifies the emotions of the tale, rather than let the reader follow what appears to be a natural course, Boyd ties you to Todd and the narrative to such an extent that you start to resent him, and a story which steadfastly refuses to end.

    So, rating time:

    #71 The New Confessions, by William Boyd (Penguin Group) - 8/10

    Next up: Money, by Martin Amis (Vintage)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Monday 18 October 2010

    #70 Crossfire, by Dick Francis & Felix Francis (Penguin Group)

    Readers may recall that in the dim and distant past – OK, February – I commented on the death of Dick Francis, whose horse-racing books I greatly enjoyed as I was growing up. Unfortunately, as he got older, and following the death of his wife, who reportedly contributed a great deal to his novels, the quality of his books diminished, so it was with some trepidation I approached his final work, Crossfire.

    Thankfully, there was little reason to be fearful. It’s far from a Francis classic, but it’s certainly not all bad, and there is enough to keep most readers entertained, even if much of it is incredibly far-fetched.

    As is customary in Francis’ books, we’ve got a character with a ‘special’ background, and, sadly, in this day and age, it’s unsurprising to find he is a soldier. And a seriously injured soldier at that. The book is dedicated to ‘grandson and son Williams Francis’, a Lieutenant in the Army Air Corps, so it’s clear the authors didn’t have to travel far to do their research.

    The soldier in question returns to his mother’s prestigious stables to discover that she’s being blackmailed, and pretty soon he’s up to eyes in various schemes, plots, tax fiddles and, of course, a beautiful women.

    Fans of Francis will see a lot of private detective Sid Halley, one of Francis’ best characters, in Crossfire’s Tom Forsyth. For Halley’s amputated hand, Forsyth is missing a foot, and both endure plenty of pain, are threatened and imprisoned, and show no hesitation in resorting to violence en route to resolving their personal conflict.

    Unfortunately, the plot is more nag than thoroughbred, but it retains enough interest to keep you turning the pages, and it’s by no means a bad way for the Francis legacy to bow out.

    So, rating time:

    #70 Crossfire, by Dick Francis & Felix Francis (Penguin Group) - 6/10

    Next up: The New Confessions, by William Boyd (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #69 Sex, Bowls & Rock & Roll, by Alex Marsh (The Friday Project)

    Has it really been a month since I last blogged? No matter. While my writing may have stalled slightly, my reading has continued apace, so prepare yourselves for some regular updates this week as I play catch up – on this challenge, on my nemesis and perhaps even on life itself.

    We’ll start with a piece of harmless flim-flam. Sex, Bowls & Rock & Roll: How I Swapped My Rock Dreams For Village Greens is, I realised after I had finished reading it, one of those books which has stemmed from a blog (privatesecretdiary.com, apparently).

    Unfortunately, in my experience, this is rarely a good thing – although I’m willing to change my mind if I get the right offer. Publishers, you know where to find me!

    The blurb on the reverse instructs readers: “You’ll piss yourself laughing, and if you don’t believe us, turn to page 16.” Unfortunately, I neglected to do this before taking the book out of the library. Had I done so, I might have saved myself a medium amount of bother.

    To set the scene, there is this bloke who fancies himself as a musician, who moves to Norfolk, where he finds there are very few musicians with which to form a band. So he takes up bowls. With little success. And so Sex, Bowls & Rock & Roll is a knockabout tale about his bowls matches, his general countryside mishaps and everyday life in a small village.

    Much as I couldn’t summon much enthusiasm for the book when I was reading it, so I can’t summon much energy to criticise it following its completion. There was the odd humorous line, but it was nowhere near as funny or poignant as it should have been and perhaps took itself to be.

    Page 16, by the way, features the author at the dentist. With a knob gag. It’s hardly Voltaire.

    So, rating time:

    #69 Sex, Bowls & Rock & Roll, by Alex Marsh (The Friday Project) - 6/10

    Next up: Crossfire, by Dick Francis & Felix Francis (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Sunday 19 September 2010

    The beautiful St Bride's

    I’ve said it before, and I’ve no qualms about saying it again: since I’ve started this challenge, all kinds of literary coincidences have attracted my attention.

    Take Saturday, when I attended the lovely wedding of the even lovelier Liz and Rufus. I’d never heard of St Bride’s Church, but its location on Fleet Street suggested links to the publishing industry and I wasn’t disappointed. Indeed, it was true delight.

    ‘The cathedral of Fleet Street’ or ‘church of the press’, as it’s known, was impressive to say the least. Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the fine steeple became the model for traditional wedding cakes, which was first made by a baker on the nearby Ludgate Hill and was no doubt popularised by the numerous newspapers, magazines and other publications located all around.

    According to the informative order of service, the church’s association with printing and publishing dates back to 1500 when Wynken De Worde, an apprentice of William Caxton (reportedly the first man to introduce the printing press to England), brought his press to the parish. He was eventually buried in St Bride’s.

    Since then, the likes of John Dryden, John Milton, John Evelyn, Samuel Pepys, Dr Johnson and Charles Dickens have congregated here, and although their days have long gone - as have the newspapers, who have gradually moved away – the historical links with the press remain: it was fascinating to see some of the seats are engraved with the names of assorted individuals and companies associated with printing, from giants such as Lord Beaverbrook to OK! magazine.

    The reception was held a short walk away at Stationers Hall, the home of the original Guild of Stationers (booksellers who copied and sold manuscript books and writing materials and limners who decorated and illustrated them). This became The Stationers' Company, which is closely connected with the communication industries that have derived from the original trades of the guild such as printing, packaging, advertising, design, photography, film and video production and print and digital publishing.

    All that, and a bloody brilliant wedding, too. A pretty perfect day all on fronts.

    #68 The Drought, by JG Ballard (Harper Perennial)

    If it’s a dystopian future you’re seeking, look no further than JG Ballard, whose bleak prognoses ensured ‘Ballardian’ would enter the English language. But it would be wrong to consider all of his works wholly depressing.

    Novels such as The Drought, which tell of a worldwide shortage of water caused by man’s production of industrial waste, foretell bleakness on an apocalyptic scale. The humans left in this world face incredible hardships and impossible decisions, but despite the horrors, it’s also a tale of survival and adaptation.

    I was immediately hooked by The Drought, although I grew more unsure the more I read. The characters were hard to like, I struggled a little with the structure and I was caught by surprise by the leap forward in time after their opening struggle to reach the coast. A dreamlike quality is created for the reader, who stumbles along in the characters’ wake enduring problem after problem and disappointment after setback, and this is curiously disengaging.

    That said, Ballard’s use of language and imagery, even symbology, is remarkable. He paints a picture better than most authors – and it’s a beautiful picture regardless of the horrors being portrayed. This is regardless of the fact I regularly needed a dictionary close at hand to get to grips with Ballard’s chosen words.

    The Drought therefore becomes a book I admired rather than enjoyed. The sudden violence and psychological trauma provoked an unsettling response. The struggle of the wildly disparate, although surprisingly few, characters to retain their identity is fought as much as they battle for survival - and I felt as though I was struggling alongside them.

    It’s not the sort of book you would select for a gentle Sunday evening in front of the Antiques Roadshow, then, but if this challenge is about furthering my literary knowledge as much as finding new authors I like, then books such as The Drought and authors such as JG Ballard are essential reading.

    So, rating time:

    #68 The Drought, by JG Ballard (Harper Perennial) - 7/10

    Next up: The New Confessions, by William Boyd (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • A light is Shone on the blog

    Behind, as I am, with my reading, I’ve been trying not to spend too much time on these reviews. Where possible, I’ve recently been declining the opportunity to research authors further or find out more about the subject or the themes of the book I’ve just completed so I have more opportunity to wade through the mounting pile of pages which lurk in the corner of my lounge, catching my eye as regularly as an attractive girl in a bar.

    But when the author of the book you have just reviewed gets in touch to pay you a compliment and suggest some further reading, it’s hard to say no...

    I wrote the other day about how much I enjoyed the links between alcoholism and authors explored within In the Rooms, by Tom Shone. And Tom himself has pointed me in the direction of a more obvious study – an article he wrote for Intelligent Life.

    Apparently, ‘Of America’s seven Nobel laureates, five were lushes’ and there is an equally long list in these shores, referencing the likes of Dylan Thomas, Malcolm Lowry, Brendan Behan, Patrick Hamilton, Philip Larkin, and Kingsley Amis.

    It’s absorbing stuff and, by proxy, it’s also a real insight into the production of In the Rooms. This article was clearly made possible from the research Shone conducted before writing In the Rooms and it’s interesting to see details which made it into the book (perhaps most obviously when alcoholic writer Douglas Kelsey refers to newly sober Raymond Carver regularly inviting him to play bingo) and the huge amount which merely contributed to the feel of his novel.

    Tom’s own blog Taking Barack to the Movies (covering ‘politics, pop, books, movies’) is equally interesting – although it has cost me precious hours in my quest to complete this 100-book challenge...

    More positively, Tom’s kind comments at last bring to an end an area of this challenge where the Friend of the Wench, was one up on me, my rival having previously been honoured with the author of a reviewed book getting in touch with him.

    Solely in the interests of competition, therefore, and completely self-indulgently, I feel I should point out that Shone is a former deputy literary editor of the Sunday Times. He presumably knows a bit about half-decent writing, then, and he ‘loves’ my blog. Have that Friend of the Wench!

    Friday 17 September 2010

    #67 Wodehouse at the Wicket, edited by Murray Hedgecock (Hutchinson)

    I like PG Wodehouse. I like cricket. So Wodehouse at the Wicket, a study into the impact the sport had on the great British novelist, and his writing, plus a selection of articles, was pretty much right up my street. Or aiming right at my stumps, if you prefer a bit of cricketing parlance.

    As a newish Wodehouse convert, I must admit that I wasn’t aware that cricket featured so heavily in his work, but thinking back to Psmith Journalist, main character Psmith was only in New York to accompany a friend of his on a cricket tour.

    Among the revelations which stood out was that famous butler Jeeves was named after Warwickshire cricketer Percy Jeeves, who was renowned for his gentlemanly ways. The short cricket-based articles with which Wodehouse was able to start his writing career were entertaining, too.

    Overall, the Murray Hedgecock-edited tome is mildly diverting rather than enthralling, however. It’s well researched, and there are some great insights, particularly into Wodehouse the schoolboy cricketer, but it’s a little too insubstantial, although not insignificant, to really impress.

    So, rating time:

    #67 Wodehouse at the Wicket, edited by Murray Hedgecock (Hutchinson) - 6/10

    Next up: The Drought, by JG Ballard (Harper Perennial)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #66 In the Rooms, by Tom Shone (Windmill Books)

    This might not be the most celebrated or well-known novel I’ve read this year (it was an impulse pick-up at the library), but it was certainly among the most enjoyable, for a number of reasons.

    A lot of In the Rooms (a phrase used to describe help meetings of alcoholics or drug users) dovetails nicely with this challenge – not that I’m an alcoholic or anything. Its main character is a literary agent, Patrick Miller, who has moved to New York and comes across a legendary reclusive author and finds the only way he can approach him is at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. So he has to pretend he’s an alcoholic.

    I deliberately didn’t add the phrase ‘with hilarious consequences’ to the end of that last sentence, but there are some very funny moments, mostly involving the characters he encounters at the meetings, as Miller finds himself slipping further and further into his deception and is unable to extricate himself from the lies he has told.

    It’s a merry little tale. But where it chimes with this blog is in the book’s underlying close look at the relationship between authors and alcohol, and whether the likes of Raymond Carver, Elmore Leonard and Charles Bukowski wrote better drunk or sober.

    Add in some insight into the workings of publishers, writers and literary agents, and guest appearances by the likes of Bret Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney, and it has the feel of real ‘writers’ book. I really enjoyed it.

    So, rating time:

    #66 In the Rooms, by Tom Shone (Windmill Books) - 8/10

    Next up: Wodehouse at the Wicket, edited by Murray Hedgecock (Hutchinson)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #65 Adventures on the High Teas, by Stuart Maconie (Ebury Press)

    The ‘in search of…’ whimsical travel book has become increasingly popular in recent years, as best evidenced by the likes of Bill Bryson and 100 Books in a Year favourite Charlie Connelly, and the genre travels all the way to Tony Hawks and his trotting around countries trying to fulfil bizarre bets.

    Adventures on the High Teas: In Search of Middle England is another one of these, then, with author, broadcaster and comedian Stuart Maconie setting out to discover what exactly makes Middle England what it is. And what that phrase means exactly. Because different people have different views, ranging from the perception and connotations linked to the Daily Mail to the world of Brief Encounter and Mike Oldfield.

    There’s a lot to like about High Teas. Maconie makes for an amusing raconteur and the places he visits, such as Knutsford, Tunbridge Wells and Meriden – the exact centre of the country (ish) - are well selected. There’s some fine historical information and lots of anecdotes and encounters en route.

    Perhaps it was a too long, however. I was growing a bit weary by the end and could have done with 50 or so fewer pages or more humour to sustain me the more pages I turned. I enjoyed it, but it didn’t set my heart racing.

    So, rating time:

    #65 Adventures on the High Teas, by Stuart Maconie (Ebury Press) - 6/10

    Next up: In the Rooms, by Tom Shone (Windmill Books)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #64 The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler (Penguin Group)

    Finally, I opened the book. It was dark; the only street lamp outside flickered and briefly threw up shadows into the alleyways opposite. The alleyways which produced all kinds of late-night sounds, from screams of joy to screams of pain. But that was the last thing on my mind. Across the room, the wench smouldered as she coolly observed me in the half-light. I always did like a red-haired woman. But first, I had to read this book.

    As the above hopefully proves, it’s not difficult to write in the style of Raymond Chandler. But it’s difficult to do it well…

    The Big Sleep is the Big Daddy of crime books, inspiring countless film noirs, shady cops, femme fatales and PIs like the uncompromising Philip Marlowe. All too often, those who pave the way for a genre tend to have their work forgotten; it’s easy to argue that Chandler is more respected for his legacy than the books he actually wrote. So it’s good to go back and be reassured that the work itself is of such a good quality.

    The Big Sleep has all the elements you’d expect. Sex, violence, double-crossing, naked women, seductions, deaths, gun-shots, conspiracies, gambling and a plot which twists and turns more than Marlowe in search of a drink.

    Chandler’s greatest gift is his turn of phrase. Descriptions are quickly dealt with but paint a vivid picture and in the reader’s mind a shady world is carefully constructed full of stakeouts, hurried conversations and damning conclusions: “Whoever had done it had meant business. Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.”

    So, rating time:

    #64 The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler (Penguin Group) - 8/10

    Next up: Adventures on the High Teas, by Stuart Maconie (Ebury Press)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #63 Requiem for a Wren, by Neville Shute (Vintage)

    Fresh from the brilliant A Town Like Alice, I rushed to read more of Neville Shute’s work and it was a decision which paid dividends.

    Requiem for a Wren is another World War love story, albeit a simpler tale of a man trying to discover more about the life of his deceased brother’s girlfriend while also investigating the apparent suicide of a maid at his parents’ house.

    But the elegant way the story unfolds and draws you into the lives of the main characters, and the ramifications that events which occurred in the dim and distant past have on the present, makes the book a real delight.

    Writing this brief review a few weeks after completing it, and having read another five books since, it’s hard to recollect exactly what I like about Shute’s work. His style is very simple yet effective, he returns to subjects on which he has a lot of knowledge, such as Australia and the war, his female characters are particularly interesting, even if dead, and his romances remain strong despite some pretty impossible situations. Put it all together and it’s a literary love affair.

    So, rating time:

    #63 Requiem for a Wren, by Neville Shute (Vintage) - 9/10

    Next up: The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler (Penguin Group)

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  • Hurling yourself into the Hurricane

    I’ve got a bit of blogging catching up to do, but I must first remark on the death of snooker player Alex Higgins, which passed me by to some extent. I was aware it had happened, but it didn’t really sink in until I watched a documentary on BBC2 the other day.

    I only mention it in the context of this blog because the biography of Higgins written by Bill Borrows, which I read a few years ago, contains one of the best opening chapters you’re ever likely to read.

    Your typical biography goes back to the roots of its subject, examines their relationship with their parents, their early days, their education and how all these things and more have combined to create the person they are today and influenced their career in whatever field they’ve excelled – or not, as it increasingly appears to be in these days where fame seems to be the be all and end all.

    Borrows’ book – The Hurricane (Atlantic Books) – has all of this, but not until after the first chapter (and an equally revelatory preface), where the author simply relates his experiences trying to meet and interview Higgins as part of what both parties were hoping would become a working relationship.

    It’s an incredibly moving depiction of what life is like in Higgins’ world, by turns funny and sad (often at the same time), and tells you more about Higgins than any biography or documentary.

    Indeed, such is its lure than I’ve just re-read the preface and opening chapter (Four ‘fucks’ and a ‘prick’ in the opening six lines), even though I’ve still got dozens of other – new - books to read before Big Ben tolls on December 31st. Must focus!

    Wednesday 1 September 2010

    Print deadline approaches

    Four months to go, and 38 books to read. I thought it was about time for a catch-up on this 100-book challenge enterprise now that the two-thirds mark has passed, in terms of the year at least.

    Yes, I’m slightly behind schedule by about four books (approximately 12 days). But on the bright side I’m once more ahead of the Friend of the Wench – and that’s all that really matters…

    Of course it’s not. It’s about enjoying literary excellence, or lamenting its absence, and after my latest visit to the library (of which I will write at some point this year) I have now lined up my next nine books for the coming month or so.

    I’ve also got a list of around 50 books which have been recommended to me by various parties, for which I’m very grateful, and I’m trying to work my way through these as best I can. These range from Margaret Atwood to John Wyndham via Aldous Huxley, JG Ballard and Brady Udall.

    At this stage of the year, it’s getting to the point where I have to prioritise, however. I wanted to read the entire Armistead Maupin Tales of the City series, but have only read the first so far (and enjoyed it). Do I really want to use up three or four of my remaining 38 just to complete the set.

    And what about the likes of personal favourites Paul Auster, PG Wodehouse and George Pelecanos? I’ve read a number of their works already this year – shouldn’t I use the remaining time to seek new authors? After all, without this challenge, I might not have found them.

    It’s a lot to ponder, but I can’t take too long to think about such decisions. After all, there’s more reading to be done.

    #62 Men from the Boys, by Tony Parsons (HarperCollins)

    Although perfectly passable and reasonably entertaining, I wasn’t completely absorbed by Tony Parsons’ Men from the Boys, the tale of a man trying to keep his family intact in face of the numerous setbacks, complications and jealousies which affect daily life, while rediscovering his own late father in the shape of an old family friend.

    There were some chuckles along the way, and Parson writes with an easy-going style, but other writers of similar ilk do it better. If it’s the complex mix of sadness, pathos and laughter you’re looking for, try Nick Hornby or (a slightly less obvious suggestion) even Jonathan Tropper, the writer of one of my favourite books of recent years: How to Talk to a Widower.

    There are some nice moments, particularly in the central relationships between father and son and father and old dying soldier and his friend. But things always go downhill when the women enter the story. It’s a bit of a shame, because Man and Boy, the predecessor to this novel, is far superior.

    So, rating time:

    #62 Men from the Boys, by Tony Parsons (HarperCollins) - 6/10

    Next up: Requiem for a Wren, by Neville Shute (Vintage)

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  • #61 My Booky Wook, by Russell Brand (Hodder & Stoughton)

    Talking of clever (see previous blog), we come to Russell Brand’s autobiography, My Booky Wook.

    As a comedian, film star, television presenter, author, boyfriend of Katy Perry, ‘Shagger of the Year’ (copyright The Sun), self-harmer, recovering drug addict and sex addict, I think everyone must have an opinion on Brand. But even those who cannot stand Brand must acknowledge his talent.

    My Booky Wook is a paradox: an easy difficult read. His writing style is familiar to those used to his stage delivery, full of archaic grammar and regular usage of ‘were’ instead of ‘was’, but it’s a pacy tale full of funny stories which helps you race through it. Unfortunately, many of the stories concern his own abject humiliation, which means you spend as much time cringing at his latest self-inflicted embarrassment as laughing at the humorous way the tales are told.

    He mentions in the book that his greatest asset has been to use his own disgrace and degradation to make people laugh, and it’s a winning combination, although the depths to which Brand has sunk often make reading which is uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. Even lighter tales, such as being locked out a flat naked, turn nasty when in the course of the ensuing he spits in the face of his girlfriend.

    This isn’t a book for those interested in celebrity spotting. The likes of Jimmy Carr, David Walliams, Steve Coogan, Tess Daly and a few others get mentions, but Brand would rather talk about the lessons he learned from someone who relapsed in the same drug treatment centre as him as the hookers, the conquests and his own career.

    It may have a daft title, but My Booky Wook is one of the most revealing and honest books I’ve read for a long time. Whether you come away liking Brand any more after the reading the book is for you to decide (you’ve got to admire the Big Brother reference I slipped in at the end there…).

    So, rating time:

    #61 My Booky Wook, by Russell Brand (Hodder & Stoughton) - 8/10

    Next up: Men from the Boys, by Tony Parsons (HarperCollins)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating