#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)

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

#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

#60 Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn (Methuen)

In my eyes (and I appreciate this is both a sweeping and simplistic generalisation), there are two types of people in the world. Those who do things. And those who have the ideas. Of course, there is nothing wrong with being either – but the important thing is to know yourself and how you fit into the world.

I would place myself in the former category. I’m the kind of thing of person who gets things done, for whom a small amount of perseverance goes a long way, but who struggles to come up with initial ideas. In a work capacity, I like to work with people who have lots of ideas; some of them I might not like very much, only for one gem to make it all worthwhile.

Indeed, I had this very conversation with the Friend of the Wench, who I bumped into in a non-cyber way t’other day (and is currently level with me on 60 books for the year), when I gave him a short preview of the very review you’re currently reading, because it was he who had recommended to me Mark Dunn’s Ella Minnow Pea. Yes, there is a book review coming along at some point…

The example I gave him of my philosophy was this: my whole 100-book challenge and writing this blog was his idea, I stole it shamelessly from him, and yet I do it better. I think he knew I was joking.

The point of the preamble is that Ella Minnow Pea, the phonetic pronunciation of LMNOP (more of which later) stems from a really clever idea. On a fictional island, the man who worked out that the phrase ‘the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog’ - a pangram (from the Greek pan gramma or ‘every letter’) phrase which features every letter of the alphabet - is treated with such reverence that when letters from a memorial featuring the sentence become broken one-by-one, they are henceforth struck from the language, one-by-one.

The story is told is a series of letters between family members, which become increasingly difficult to read as the government bans the letters which keep falling off the roof. So the book itself becomes a study into how language is used to communicate, what liberties can be taken with the written word and how much words can be altered yet retain their original meaning. LMNOP are the last letters which remain at the end, by the way.

Alongside all this, the book explores all sorts of wider themes such as the freedom of speech and the impact of living under a totalitarian regime. So, it really is clever, and in many ways, you can tell it’s been written by someone better known as a playright. But here’s the rub: is too clever?

Some would argue that such a thing isn’t possible, especially in a modern world where everything seems to be being dumbed down, where the fact that a film studio has spent millions upon millions of pounds on making an ‘intelligent summer blockbuster’ (Inception, in case you’re wondering) produced as many column inches as reviews and praise of the film itself. And they’d have a bloody good point.

I don’t believe it’s possible to claim that Dunn hasn’t carried the idea through effectively, either, but I always worry when I come away from a piece of culture, be it a book, theatre or film, thinking about how clever it was, rather than about the great characterisation or the wonderful emotional impact it had on me.

I wasn’t a great fan of the letter-writing concept (although, obviously, I can’t come up with a better way Dunn could have done it, so to speak), and I must admit I don’t envy the job of the editor who must have read the book a thousand times to check no ‘banned letters’ crept into the later chapters.

That said, there is plenty to enjoy. After all, who could fail to raise a smile at a school, that bastion of education, being described as a ‘learny-place’ because the letter writer is no longer allowed to use the letter ‘h’.

So, rating time:

#60 Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn (Methuen) - 8/10

Next up: My Booky Wook, by Russell Brand (Hodder & Stoughton)

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

#59 Jeeves in the Offing, by PG Wodehouse (Arrow Books)

One of the main themes of PG Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster series is the astute acumen and advice of butler Jeeves. So, married as I am to a ginger goddess, it was slightly concerning to read of Jeeves' views regarding red-haired women early on in Jeeves in the Offing.

"I would always hesitate to recommend as a life partner a young lady with quite a vivid shade of red hair," says the butler. Oh? Bugger...

After two wonderful Wodehouse books, I was slightly (and only slightly) disappointed by Jeeves in the Offing. It was good, of course. It was warm and witty, full of bon mots and fun frolics concerning an 18th century silver cow creamer, kleptomaniacs, misguided romances and more.

But I didn't enjoy it as much as the previous two.

So, rating time:

#59 Jeeves in the Offing, by PF Wodehouse (Arrow Books) - 8/10

Next up: Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn (Methuen)

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

#58 A Town Like Alice, by Nevil Shute (Vintage)

Well, well, well. Fifty-eight books in and we have something to really write home about. Well, a short blog at least.

I'd forgotten about Nevil Shute. Many years ago, I read On the Beach, a story about nuclear war and the dignified end of the world, and it had a great effect on me, so I'm not sure why I limited my own exposure to Shute's work to that one book. After reading A Town Like Alice, I regret it even more.

A Town Like Alice is a love story, but it's not your typical US rom-com. After all, the female lead, Jean Paget, is forced to hike hundreds of miles across Malaya by the Japanese army during the Second World War, while the leading man is crucified for stealing a chicken in an effort to help her.

That that part of the remarkable tale, based on the true story of a group of Dutch women and children in Sumatra (although there is some discrepancy about whether they walked or were transported from camp to camp), is just part of the story is where the books excels. Told from the perspective of an aged Scottish solicitor, who is appointed Paget’s trustee when she comes into some money, the story then switches to Australia, where she breathes new life into a dead town.

It's not without issues. In many ways, it's a book of its time and certain attitudes and terms - such as 'golliwogs' and the like - are authentic, if a little uncomfortable.

But the greatest thing about A Town Like Alice - and I'm a little surprised by how much of an effect this had on me - is its strong female voice and feminist theme, which came as a welcome antidote to a number of other books I’ve read this year which are primarily meant to appeal to women. Yes, I’m talking about you Twilight.

Throughout everything, the initial hardship and the suffering, and then Paget's crusade to improve things for womenfolk in the town where she ends up making her home, her desire to make things better for the women around her despite apparently insurmountable odds is incredibly inspiring. All that, and it's a love story too...

So, rating time:

#58 A Town Like Alice, by Nevil Shute (Vintage) - 10/10

Next up: Jeeves in the Offing, by PF Wodehouse (Arrow Books)

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

#57 Shame the Devil, by George Pelecanos (Indigo)

A confession: I must have finished Shame the Devil almost a month ago, but have only just found the time to get around to offering a review. This is therefore going to be a shorter write-up than perhaps is usual.

My third George Pelecanos book of the year, and the challenge, it didn’t quite reach the heights of the previous two. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it, far from it, but a book which is merely entertaining isn’t up to scratch when the best of Pelecanos’ work, and the lessons he tries to impart about race, society, drugs and America, normally hits you in the stomach like a .38, a .22 or a .45 – the guns his characters use in the opening robbery-gone-wrong in Shame the Devil.

This is also my first Pelecanos book without main character Derek Strange, and while it was nice to read something else, such was the powerful characterisation of the previous novels I’d read, I found myself missing him. A ‘strange’ reaction indeed to the absence of a cheating private eye whose moral code is loose, to say the least.

The best bit of Shame the Devil is its focus on the victims, the relatives and loved ones of frequently unspeakable crimes. But it would have been nice for a resolution different to the typical showdown amid a hail of bullets.

That said, if Pelecanos is good at one thing, it seems to be writing the truth, so who am I to judge…?

So, rating time:

#57 Shame the Devil, by George Pelecanos (Indigo) - 7/10

Next up: A Town Like Alice, by Nevil Shute (Vintage)

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

#56 Jelleyman's Thrown a Wobbly, by Jeff Stelling (Harper Collins)

It's been a while. Sorry. Work. Moving swiftly on...

Football is a big part of my life, encompassing work and play. So Sky Sports' Soccer Saturday, that wonderfully addictive television show where 'people watch people watching football matches on television', hosted by the incomparable Jeff Stelling, is naturally a big part of that life. So it might come as a surprise that I didn't have high hopes for his book - Jelleyman's Thrown a Wobbly.

At its best, Soccer Saturday is a whirlwind of enthusiastic activity, football reporting, interviews, jokes, banter, mockery, opinions and controversy, capable of captivating television over the course of six hours, which fly by as a result. At its worst, it's a smug, blokey clicque laughing at their own jokes. Unfortunately, more of the latter than the former is present in the book.

That Soccer Saturday is much more difficult than it looks is undisputed, and the story of how the current format evolved (the history of the programme from when it covered Britain's Best Lady Driver as much as the football), and how the show is put together, makes for interesting stuff.

For those who don't know about the potential drinking games and the explanations behind the recurring jokes, I suppose there are some further passably entertaining sections, but I'm not so convinced by the parts of the book devoted to the other members of the panel.

I don't need to be constantly told that Paul Merson is always checking his weekend coupon when he's off screen, or Matt Le Tissier is constantly scoffing. The first time it's mildly amusing, the second time it simply seems unprofessional. It quickly gets boring and suggesting that the programme has ever set the football agenda, as it does when George Best is credited with starting the chorus of disapproval which greeted then England manager Glenn Hoddle's views on disabled people and led to his dismissal from the post, is stretching the truth, to say the least.

To Stelling's credit, he doesn't shy away from the odd criticism and occasional mild jab at various clubs and fans within the game, which is quite a rarity in these kind of books. But it's not enough to redeem a book which remains passably entertaining rather than a complete compendium of a phenomenen which remains incomprehensible to many people.

So, rating time:

#56 Jelleyman’s Thrown a Wobbly, by Jeff Stelling (Harper Collins) - 5/10

Next up: Shame the Devil, by George Pelecanos (Indigo)

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

#55 The Ruby in her Naval, by Barry Unsworth (Penguin Group)

Recommended by a work colleague of the Wench, Barry Unsworth was another author with whom I was unfamiliar, and I enjoyed The Ruby in her Navel, a tale of courtly intrigue and treason in 12th century Sicily.

It's slightly slow going at times, with webs of deception being woved carefully around the narrator, a Mr Fixit wannabe knight who is both manipulator and manipulated, and who is sidetracked by two very different female attractions. It takes its time to reach a climax, but there are enough twists and turns to keep you reading until the various plots reveal themselves.

There is an eclectic mix of characters, races and religions, with Muslims, Christians, Jews, Latins, Greeks, Saxons, Saracens and Normans all pursuing their own agendas, and Unsworth skilfully relates a world where trust is at a premium and is often misplaced - usually with drastic consequences. Decisions have significant ramifications and, like a game of chess, the one who can predict what will happen five moves further down the line is the one who will emerge triumphant.

One of the things I liked most about The Ruby in her Navel was the prescient tone adopted by Unsworth's narrator. The story is told in hindsight, with frequent "would I only have known that..." and "But more of my father later...", and these hints of what are to come are an extremely effective hook.

I must also mention the book's very first paragraph, which introduces the mystery of Nesrin the dancer, the ruby, a troubadour and the plots which affect kings. It's a fine introduction of what is to come, and the subtleties can be even better appreciated if, once the novel has been completed, you go back to re-read it.

So, rating time:

#55 The Ruby in her Naval, by Barry Unsworth (Penguin Group) - 7/10

Next up: Jelleyman’s Thrown a Wobbly, by Jeff Stelling (Harper Collins)

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

#54 It’s Only a Movie, by Mark Kermode (Random House)

It’s always slightly dangerous reading a book by someone you respect and admire. OK, I’ll say it. I bloody love the ever-opinionated Mark Kermode and the film review programme he does with Simon Mayo on BBC Radio 5 live. Immediately, therefore, my expectations are sky high and, unfortunately, It’s Only a Movie: Reel Life Adventures of a Film Obsessive doesn’t live up to them.

It’s not a bad book, by any stretch of the imagination. While not quite an autobiography (although it does chart his career in the film business), there are plenty of good tales and anecdotes, coupled with a deeper forensic analysis of movie-making.

He may be famed for his rants against stodge of the likes of Marley and Me, Transformers, Pirates of the Caribbean, Michael Bay (I could go on…), but there is much more to Kermode, and some of the book reads like a thoughtful essay on various subjects.

Given his favourite film of all time is The Exorcist – as he mentions at least twice on every show – it’s no surprise that perhaps the best of these dissertations relates how watching that particular film was an other-worldly and ‘genuinely transcendent’ experience for him, and it’s more intelligent fare than some might expect from a ‘film book’.

To his credit, he heaps praise for the radio show’s success on Mayo, and quite rightly, because while the knowledgeable Kermode is the mouthy critic, it’s the broadcaster who quite brilliantly steers the bickering ‘wittertainment’ away from the rocks of self-indulgence and into the minds of the Sony Awards judges.

But back to the book, and my main problem, which is the writing style Kermode deploys: because it’s really very annoying. The concept is fine enough, we’re in his head and he’s imagining someone is making a film of his life, so we’ve got Charles Hawtrey playing Mayo, Julianne Moore playing his wife and the much-loved Jason Isaacs (hello Jason Isaacs), portraying Kermode. Absolutely dandy.

But why oh why did Kermode, or the publisher, or the editor, or whoever, allow the entire book to contain a word in italics - every other line or so - to demonstrate extra emphasis. A quick excerpt is called for:

“…true learning (it seems to me) is all about understanding and appreciating just how much you will never know. For example, at the age of forty-six, I am just starting to realise how vast and unbridgeable are the gaps in my knowledge of the history of cinema, a medium which has only been around for just over a century. Even if I dedicated every waking moment of the next twenty years to studying the art of silent cinema, the growth of Indian cinema, and the bewildering marketing expanse of the ‘Pacific Rim’, I’d still only be scratching the surface.”

Do you see what I mean? I’ll forgive Kermode a lot, but it just seems like bad writing if, by the way you use words and construct sentences, you can’t imply such an emphasis without the use of a different typeface.

So, rating time:

#54 It’s Only a Movie, by Mark Kermode (Random House) - 6/10

Next up: The Ruby in her Naval, by Barry Unsworth (Penguin Group)

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

#53 The Great Gatsby, by F Scott Fitzgerald (Penguin Group)

Remember when I stayed in a hotel room next to one which was famously used by the man who inspired the character of Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby (if not, click here)? Good. You’ll therefore also recall I vowed to read F Scott Fitzgerald’s classic as part of this year-long challenge – and I’m glad I did.

There are some similarities between Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the last book I read, and The Great Gatsby. Both are considered to be among the greatest works of American literature, both are set in and around New York, both feature particularly memorable main characters (Holly Golightly and Gatsby respectively) and, in both books, the tale is told by a dispassionate narrator who gradually enters their world and is fascinated by them and their behaviour.

In truth, it’s hard to compete with Holly Golightly the character, but F Scott Fitzgerald has arguably created a better story in The Great Gatsby, the tale of a wealthy enigma who hosts the greatest parties ever held, but who doesn’t enjoy them himself and barely even knows any of the guests. For all the parties, the grand gestures and the frivolity, there is a sadness and melancholy within the pages as Gatsby attempts to reconnect with a long lost love. This is also demonstrated by the unhappiness of most of the characters, who are having affairs, arguing or struggling to get on in life.

Having grown to know Gatsby, and then grown to like him despite his clearly murky past, the denouement comes as a shock, but continues the sad theme and lament to lost love. If it’s a happy ending you’re after, look elsewhere, but if you prefer rewarding reads, look no further.

Oh, and you can read what the Friend of the Wench (whose copy I borrowed, incidentally) made of it all here.

So, rating time:

#53 The Great Gatsby, by F Scott Fitzgerald (Penguin Group) - 8/10

Next up: It’s Only a Movie, by Mark Kermode (Random House)

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

#52 Breakfast at Tiffany’s, by Truman Capote (Penguin Books)

When I was younger, one of the slang phrases of the time, to denote that something was good, was ‘top banana’. This common usage (which eventually led to a children’s quiz programme on TV-am in the late 1980s and early 1990s) prompted a number of fruit-based derivatives, such as ‘fit as a raspberry’ – I never said they had to make any sense.

So what’s all this got to do with Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Well, imagine my surprise when I saw that a writer as illustrious as Truman Capote had used that very ‘top banana’ phrase midway through his classic novella of the mysterious Holly Golightly and her seductive ways. I was so baffled, I looked the phrase up, and it turns out it stems from Vaudeville shows, where whomever was top of the bill was said to be ‘top banana’. In turn, this led to the name of a Broadway play in the 1950s – around the same time as Breakfast at Tiffany’s was written.

But I digress. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is said to be one of the great stories, but I think it’s true to say that people now might think first of the film, starring Audrey Hepburn, than the novel which formed its inspiration. And that would be a shame, because for all the iconic Hepburn’s loveliness, your imagination always surpasses what your eyes can see, and there is much to wonder at within Capote’s pages.

The story apparently prompted Norman Mailer to tell Capote that he ‘wouldn’t change two words’ in the entire novella, and, while I wouldn’t be so bold as to make a similar statement (not that anyone would take notice anyway), it’s evident that it’s a real work of art.

In Golightly, literature has a glamorous figure who revels in daredevil behaviour – stealing boyfriends, consorting with the mafia, inveigling money out of rich men and with a frequent flagrant disregard for friend’s feelings – but manages to inspire in the reader sympathy and likeability. It’s a real triumph, and as Capote gradually reveals the tale, and you learn more about her, you become as hooked on how things will unfold as Katie Price is on maintaining her media profile. And that’s probably the only time you’ll see Jordan compared to Audrey Hepburn.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s is a real delight. Even the wench read it, and I agree with her verdict – ‘darker than I thought it would be’. But there is also a lightness of mood, created by Capote’s lightness of prose, that captivates you until the moment she disappears…

Read the review by the Friend of the Wench here.

So, rating time:

#52 Breakfast at Tiffany’s, by Truman Capote (Penguin Books) - 9/10

Next up: The Great Gatsby, by F Scott Fitzgerald (Penguin Group)

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

Just as an aside, those who are following my progress may have noticed that, after a bit of a rocky spell, I’m firing all literary cylinders at the moment and firmly pushing myself back into the frame to complete this challenge. Indeed, not that I’m getting cocky or anything, but after finishing Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I knocked off three more short stories by Capote which were included at the end of the edition I had. Just for fun, you understand.

I’m not going to give full reviews of them, not least because I’m not counting them for the purposes of this challenge, but I have to say that A Christmas Memory is among the best things I’ve read this year, and House of Flowers and A Diamond Guitar weren’t too far behind.

#51 Starter For Ten, by David Nicholls (Hodder Paperbacks)

To paraphrase Humphrey Bogart, of all the books in all the world, the Friend of the Wench and I both chose the same one. I trust readers will believe me when I say that there was nothing premeditated about our selection of David Nicholls’ One Day – after all, I don’t think I’ve spoken to him for about a month.

But I suppose it goes to show that coincidences do happen, and our contrasting reviews (you can read his blog here) at least proves there is still plenty of room for diversity in our respective challenges.

Until we get to my book 51, that is, which is one that the Friend of the Wench has already reviewed, and was in fact the one I was looking for when I came across One Day. Apologies if it’s all getting a bit incestuous.

I make no apologies for liking Starter For Ten, though, even if many would probably consider it a slightly more childish novel than Nicholls’ One Day. To some extent, they share a common theme, in that both books use university life as a starting point for life experience and personal growth (it sounds like I’m attending a careers interview…), but while One Day seems, to me at least, to be trying a bit too hard, Starter for Ten is more natural and therefore funnier and more touching.

Ostensibly about a shy boy’s pursuit of knowledge and a place in his university’s University Challenge team, it’s more about the trials and tribulations of growing up, and there were a few cringeworthy occasions when I had to momentarily put the book down rather than read what I knew was coming next, as the main character put his foot in it yet again.

You could argue the characters are simplistic and stereotypical, and probably put up a strong argument at that, but unlike One Day, there was a pervading sense of charm that allowed this to be easily forgiven in pursuit of the next chuckle.

It’s not a masterpiece, far from it, but it’s likeable, good spirited and warm at heart, and you could do a lot worse - if only because you're likely to learn something at the same time. Oh, and you can read what the Friend of the Wench made of Starter for Ten here.

So, rating time:

#51 Starter For Ten, by David Nicholls (Hodder Paperbacks) - 7/10

Next up: Breakfast at Tiffany’s, by Truman Capote (Penguin Books)

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

#50 Acts of Violence, by Ryan David Jahn (Macmillan)

I’ve made it to 50 – and you know you haven’t read the most riveting book when the landmark itself is probably more remarkable than the novel which made the achievement possible.

There’s something missing from Acts of Violence, by Ryan David Jahn. The premise, the murder of a woman while her neighbours are too self-absorbed or distracted to do anything about it, is interesting enough, and the reader gradually pieces the story together as the focus flits from one character to the next. But the disparate strands don’t fully come together to create a whole.

Clichés abound. One neighbour has been drafted but is worrying about leaving his sick mother, another couple are experiencing swinging for the first time, a woman has found out her husband has been having an affair, another man is having his first homosexual experience and yet another couple are in potential trouble with the law. Did Jahn miss anything?

It’s by no means terrible, and there are some good dark ideas but it’s not carried off with anything like enough élan to grab your attention.

So, rating time:

#50 Acts of Violence, by Ryan David Jahn (Macmillan) - 5/10

Next up: Starter For Ten, by David Nicholls (Hodder Paperbacks)

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

#49 Thank You for the Days, by Mark Radcliffe (Simon and Schuster)

Autobiographies and biographies have been few and far between during this challenge, and although Thank You for the Days, by DJ Mark Radcliffe isn’t quite one of those, it’s definitely in that ballpark. Rather than follow the formulaic route of discussing his upbringing - and revisiting all those sentimental childhood episodes which bore most readers of autobiographies – Radcliffe has wisely opted to reminisce about a series of notable moments during his first 50 years.

So we have The Day I Took Bros into a Goods Yard, The Day I Introduced David Bowie on Stage and The Day I Heard That John Peel Had Died, and it works pretty well, all told. In the introduction, Radcliffe himself points out that a good deal of his life story isn’t even interesting to him, so ‘there’s no reason why anyone else should want to hear about it all’.

The collected snapshots do provide a fairly rounded picture, however, and Thank You for the Days is much like the self-deprecating Radcliffe himself, hugely knowledgeable about music, pretty funny at times, occasionally insightful and regularly entertaining.

I have a few criticisms. Some of it is overly sentimental and some of the comic asides are a bit obvious when written down but, equally, there are also some real hits, such as the time when Mark and colleague Lard upset Kylie Minogue by asking an unscripted question at a screening An Audience with… and the inside story of his sacking from the Radio 1 Breakfast Show.

So, rating time:

#49 Thank You for the Days, by Mark Radcliffe (Simon and Schuster) - 6/10

Next up: Acts of Violence, by Ryan David Jahn (Macmillan)

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

#48 One Day, by David Nicholls (Hodder and Stoughton)

I was looking for a different book by David Nicholls (Starter for Ten) when I came across One Day, and, after reading the blurb, remembered that I had once heard Simon Mayo discussing it on the book review slot of his old BBC Radio 5 live show. Which is about all the impetus I need when it comes to selecting my next book.

Without pre-empting the whole rating business, One Day perfectly passable fare and I can’t dispute it provided some enjoyment. However, I must take issue with the incredible number of ‘book of the year!” testimonials from critics and other authors which adorn the cover and opening few pages, sample quote: “Every reader will fall in love with it. And every writer will wish they had written it.” (Tony Parsons, by the way)

There are some things to like about One Day, which explores and follows the relationship between Em and Dex, two students who sleep together on their graduation night, over the following 20 years. Crucially, the author just dips into their lives on one day per year, the anniversary of that first encounter, so you have to pick up whatever else has happened in their lives on the other 364 days. As devices go, it’s not bad, and it’s to its credit that it doesn’t feel like it overstays its welcome.

However, I can’t agree with Nick Hornby when he says One Day is ‘brilliant on the details of the last couple of decades of British cultural and political life’. No, it’s not. Parts of the novel feel like Nicholls has Googled a timeline for each year and just chucked in a couple of references to significant events so the reader can place themselves in the story to provide some additional colour. Oh, New Labour have just won the election (I remember that!) so it must be 1997; look, the lead character is presenting a late-night ‘largin it’ television show and dating a lad’s mag babe so it must be the late 1990s.

If it’s love you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place. There is unrequited love and requited love, coupled with cheap flings and affairs, but aspects of the two main characters are so determinedly unlikeable that you don’t really care about their relationship or whether they will find love. Bad boy Dex is particularly hard work; after he’s spent so long being thoroughly unpleasant to Em, does Nicholls really believe we want Em, whiny though she often is, to end up with him?

All that said, there were some poignant and endearing moments. I cried, of course. I didn’t see the final twist coming. I laughed a few times. It’s like an unchallenging Hollywood rom-com, probably starring Jennifer Aniston – you know what to expect, it’s going to pass the time and be moderately entertaining, but it won’t change your life and you’ll have forgotten it tomorrow. Which is why these reviews need to be written quickly...

Oh, and a quick hello to Guilty Feat, a fellow Wire watcher (so obviously someone of particularly distinguished taste) who has kindly pointed me the way of his own review of One Day. We agree, we disagree, but I enjoyed reading his opinion.

So, rating time:

#48 One Day, by David Nicholls (Hodder and Stoughton) - 6/10

Next up: Thank You for the Days, by Mark Radcliffe (Simon and Schuster)

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

#47 Psmith, Journalist, by PG Wodehouse (Century Hutchinson Limited)

Regret wasn’t a feeling I was expecting after embarking on this challenge. Enjoyment yes, interest definitely, maybe a bit of boredom, but certainly not regret – yet that was my overwhelming emotion after finishing Psmith, Journalist, my second PG Wodehouse book.

I should clarify. It’s not regret at having read this particular novel, but rather a sense of guilt that I waited this long into my life to tackle any of Wodehouse’s celebrated oeuvre. Which, so far, is brilliant.

In the front of my copy of Psmith, Journalist, there is a list of all of PG Wodehouse’s books. Excluding autobiographies, there are 92 in total and the way I’m feeling at the moment, little would make me happier than reading the complete works over the 12 months and adding on another eight books by other authors to complete the century and my challenge.

It’s not possible, of course. Not only did I read 40-odd books before picking up my first Wodehouse novel, Pearls, Girls and Monty Bodkin, I’m also limited to some extent by what’s available in the library. That and the fact that I’m trying to read new authors – and who knows what other wonders are out there – means my eye must occasionally wander away from the shelf of Ws. But I hope that illustrates just how eagerly I’m devouring his work.

The books themselves sound insubstantial. Psmith, Journalist tells the tale of an Englishman in New York, who alters the direction of a cosy weekly newspaper into a hard-hitting tabloid taking on social issues and attracting the attention of local gangs, but Wodehouse is so witty and his use of language so deft that it’s a real joy.

When I visit the library (about which I promise I’ll write more another time), I take out about nine or 10 books at a time, and I then try to sort them into some kind of order to ensure a bit of variety and that I don’t have to read two similar books back-to-back, and so forth. This month, it was a real struggle not to throw the system (if not the books) out of the window and read the Wodehouse straight away, and I can give no higher praise.

So, rating time:

#47 Psmith, Journalist, by PG Wodehouse (Century Hutchinson Limited) - 9/10

Next up: One Day, by David Nicholls (Hodder and Stoughton)

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

#46 Breaking Dawn, by Stephenie Meyer (Atom)

702 pages. Much like Harry Potter, as the popularity of the Twilight series has grown, so has the length of the books, and (alas for the purposes of this challenge) the last by Stephenie Meyer, Breaking Dawn, is the longest yet. So it’s absolutely bizarre that nothing really happens.

Oh, there are a few incidents. This is the book where Bella becomes a vampire, an event which has been so foretold in the previous three instalments there’s no fear of a spoiler there, but there are a few other twists which might keep the most avid fans fleetingly entertained.

That won’t be the case for anyone else, though. I’m all for building up a bit of tension and suspense, but Meyer never comes up with any sort of climax, merely a situation which fizzles out just when things look like getting dangerous – or what some might consider to be interesting.

A review of Meyer’s next work, the novella The Second Life of Bree Tanner which I happened to notice, points out the problems with the Twilight series better than I can, chiefly that the whole world the author has created, featuring hugely powerful vampires and shape-shifter-like werewolves, is incredibly sanitised.

This is a book when the heroine’s greatest power when she turns into a fearless vampire is to be, well, normal. It might be a great message to send out to young girls, who will form the majority of the book’s readership, but it doesn’t make it readable.

Other will no doubt quibble at the quality of prose, the meandering plot, the length, of time, it takes, for anything, to happen, but one final point if I may? Meyer also experiments with the structure of the book (you get a chapter by Bella, and then one with Jacob, for example), but you can tell things are running out of steam when she contrives to introduce a whole series of new vampires with special powers, seemingly for the only reason that the original ones seem a bit boring now.

Back in March, the Friend of the Wench took umbrage at my middle-of-the-road rating for the third Twilight book, Eclipse. I don’t foresee any such problems with this review…

So, rating time:

#46 Breaking Dawn, by Stephenie Meyer (Atom) - 4/10

Next up: Psmith, Journalist, by PG Wodehouse (Century Hutchinson Limited)

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

A challenging enterprise

It’s six months since I started this year-long challenge, and I’ve come up five books short at the halfway mark. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s actually around a fortnight behind schedule and, despite a big effort in June while I was on holiday, I’m starting to get a little concerned about reaching my target come the year end.

That said, I could have made things easier on myself. I have deliberately been selecting some difficult books, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that I reckon I could have read around 10 standard-length ‘thriller’ books in the same time it took me to summon the energy to get through David Peace’s Tokyo Year Zero and Occupied City.

But that would be missing the point of the challenge, which is to read authors and books I might have otherwise ignored, and I feel better for the decisions I’ve taken. Even the one to finish Divorced and Deadly.

Earlier this month, the Friend of the Wench, with whom I have a bit of a ‘friendly’ competition going on (I’ve added the quotation marks because he thinks it’s a lot more friendly than I do), wrote eloquently about the nature of the challenges upon which we have embarked, about writing his own blog, and the enjoyment he’s taken from speaking to others about the challenge and literature in general.

Despite our differences, I couldn’t agree more. The irregular conversations between the two of us, my pride at his acknowledging a book I recommended to him is his favourite of the first six months, chatting to the Old Boy about Graham Greene in a New York bar while watching the US being knocked out the World Cup, kindly being bought books for my birthday by friends, finally following up on recommendations of authors from years ago, revisiting a library (about which I’ll write later), and making connections between everyday life and literature which I might otherwise have overlooked have been real highlights so far this year.

I was therefore unsurprised (although initially a little bewildered) when earlier this week I received a flood of emails from a work colleague of the Wench, an avid reader, recommending around two pages’ worth of her all-time favourite books and the best ones she has read this year. With passionate readers, you come to expect that sort of thing...

I hope all of the above has been conveyed by this blog, and I reached a decision earlier this week to actively tell people about these pages. That’s not to say it’s been a secret, but I didn’t start the challenge or the blog to seek attention and it’s largely been a personal undertaking for no one else’s pleasure but mine.

The other factor was a modicum of self-doubt whether I would have the time to carry on throughout the year. But while on holiday the Wench told me I was being foolish not to let people know about it because they might be interested, so, if you’re reading this, now you know. I hope it provides at least some fleeting fascination.

The Friend of the Wench (if he’s finished boasting about reaching 50 books ahead of schedule – and ahead of me!) is inviting people to take up their own challenge in the final six months – a 50-book challenge, if you will. Again, I couldn’t agree more – I hope it brings others as much enjoyment as I’ve had in the first six months.

#45 Shutter Island, by Dennis Lehane (Harper Collins)

Shutter Island is what I’d call a ‘superior’ thriller. On the one hand, it’s a relatively easy-to-read, well-plotted suspense novel, but there is a little bit more about it than the books which normally clog up the bestseller lists.

Typically, to contradict this theory, this was a New York Times bestseller, but that just goes to show that a lot of people recognised its quality. Indeed, Martin Scorcese directed the ‘major motion picture’ adaptation which has recently been released in UK cinemas (Gone Baby Gone and Mystic River are other films of Dennis Lehane books, I’ve since discovered).

To be honest, and to continue a bit of a theme on these pages this year, I first came across Lehane’s name in his role as a writer on The Wire (the best television show of all time etc…). George Pelecanos, another renowned American author who has similarly contributed to the HBO drama, has provided numerous highlights in my challenge this year, so I thought it was about time I gave Lehane a try – and I was pleased I did.

The story concerns a US marshal who is conducting an investigation into the disappearance of a criminally insane patient on a remote island, where nothing is quite as it seems (if you can imagine the ubiquitous film voiceover guy saying exactly that phrase). Not only is it well written with believable characters, there is enough suspense and plenty of twists and turns to keep readers occupied.

Rather pleasingly, even if I do say so myself, I worked out the novel’s central conceit about halfway through, but this in no way spoiled my enjoyment, and even after that there were plenty of surprises. So, really good, but not great.

So, rating time:

#45 Shutter Island, by Dennis Lehane (Harper Collins) - 8/10

Next up: Breaking Dawn, by Stephenie Meyer (Atom)

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

#44 Occupied City, by David Peace (Faber and Faber Limited)

I was planning to read Tokyo Year Zero and Occupied City, the second novel in David Peace's Tokyo trilogy, back to back, but found myself so drained by the first instalment that I needed some light relief - a role PG Wodehouse fulfilled perfectly.

I enjoyed Occupied City more than Tokyo Year Zero, but many of the comments I made in that review apply once more. There is significantly less repetition, less use of the stylised prose which Peace favours, in favour of interwoven sentences which see entire chapters use italics and CAPITAL LETTERS to convey three disparate strands. As before, it's extremely complex and hard to follow, and the overall effect is that the mind focuses on the sensory impact of the words more than the story itself.

Rereading my review of Tokyo Year Zero, it struck me that I should have given an example of the complicated sentence structure Peace commonly uses, so here's a quick excerpt, taken completely at random, from Occupied City:

"Beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, in the candle-light, no plague-light; white light, hospital-white, laboratory-white, then grey, an overcast-skin-grey then open vein blue, blue and now green, a culture-grown-green then yellow, yellow, thick-caught-spittle-yellow, streaked sticking-string-red, then black;
black-black, drop-drop, black-black
step-step, in the plague-light
drop-drop, step-step,
in the plague-
light-"

And there's just short of 300 pages of that (which is less than Tokyo Year Zero, admittedly).

The plot is also better, by the way. We've moved on a couple of years in post-Second World War occupied Tokyo and now police are investigating a bank robbery in which 12 people were murdered (poisoned). As usual, it's based on a true story and an author's note later reveals an appeal to clear the supposedly guilty party's name continues to this day, posthumously.

Interestingly, Peace has borrowed the Rashomon format, whereby the same event is revisited and retold by several different protaganists, shedding new light on events in the process. This is set against another investigation being carried out into Japan's biological warfare operation.

Each chapter is different. We are treated to the transcript of a detective's notebook, the recollections of a journalist, the testimony of a survivor and ultimately an account by the man who confessed to the crime. It's hugely varied and powerful, and if you want a book to really challenge you, start here.

So, rating time:

#44 Occupied City, by David Peace (Faber and Faber Limited) - 7/10

Next up: Shutter Island, by Dennis Lehane (Harper Collins)

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