LEARN THIS PHRASE

The Talented Mr. Ripley

2012-03-03T20:21:00.000Z

I am cheating by posting this, because it's actually a post from my old blog which I'm recycling: screencaps from The Talented Mr. Ripley, one of my all-time favourite films. I've been overcome by wanderlust in the last few days (getting a Pinterest account may have something to do with this) and when I think of wanderlust, I always think of this movie. It just makes me want to be in Italy in summer, and it is such a visually stunning film.

I went to see this in the cinema when it came out (I can't believe that was in 1999, 12 years ago! Where do the years go?) and instantly fell in love with everything about it. All these years later, I still love the film as much as ever; in fact, I'd go as far as saying it is probably my ultimate favourite. Everything about it - the colours, the characterisation, the brilliant soundtrack, and of course the acting (from everyone in the cast), and it goes without saying that the Italian settings are one of the most beguiling things about it. With every viewing, I've always come away desperately wanting to visit Italy.

The pleasant thing about screencapping a film is that you notice things about it you probably wouldn't under normal viewing circumstances. I've seen The Talented Mr. Ripley more times than I could possibly count, but until compiling these caps I'd never noticed how significant a role mirrors play throughout it - not only as an obvious motif, but in the background of so many scenes, sitting in the corners of rooms and reflecting distorted, unexpected fragments - and then there's the subtle switch from bright, warm colours before Dickie's 'disappearance' to rich, sinister, dark tones afterwards, and the use of light, pouring through windows, casting things into shadow, lots of hazy sunsets...

Finally, I can't really post film screencaps without mentioning the clothes. I have always been particularly fond of Meredith (Cate Blanchett)'s outfits, especially that beautifully cut powder-blue coat. But I'm also quite fond of Marge (Gwyneth Paltrow)'s leopard-print look towards the end, and her laid-back Mongibello wardrobe - all those knotted blouses and high-waisted maxi skirts. This being the 1950s, everything looks completely effortless and chic. And, of course, you can never go wrong with men in good suits.

A/W 2012

2012-02-23T11:52:00.001Z

Paul Smith

Francesco Scognamiglio

Helmut Lang

Theyskens' Theory

Ralph Lauren

Gucci

Victoria Beckham

Wes Gordon

Burberry Prorsum
Every year I have the same dilemma. I really want to get excited about the spring trends - and indeed, there's always something new I like: this year it's baroque prints, silk pyjama trousers and peplums, for example. But I will never be able to muster much (if any) enthusiasm for pastels, florals and girly summer dresses. My heart belongs to autumn/winter fashion, and it's to the A/W shows that I'm inexorably drawn. Yes, I know, most people do not want to look at pictures of big coats and scarves at the same time as they're hoping for some sunny weather... but while I love the sunshine, the clothes that come with it bore me. On the other hand, the above (personal) highlights of A/W 2012 so far look like a catalogue of things I love to wear: skinny and mannish trousers, pencil skirts and dresses, slouchy layers, shirts with blazers, military coats, big jumpers, tweed, loads of leather and black, black, black. Newsflash: I am not very original. The good news is that it looks like the shops will be full of really nice clothes this autumn.

Book review: Alys, Always by Harriet Lane

2012-02-21T20:08:00.000Z

Alys, Always (2012) by Harriet Lane

Alys, Always, the first novel by Harriet Lane, has received rather a lot of press, and all of it - without exception, as far as I'm aware - has been positive. Given that the author is a former journalist who has written for most of the British broadsheets, this isn't so surprising. But a few things about the book grabbed my attention anyway: the beautiful cover, the promise of a story set amidst the London literary scene, the comparisons to Zoe Heller's masterful Notes On a Scandal.

Frances Thorpe is a struggling journalist who is driving home one night when she sees an overturned car by the side of the road. She rushes to help, and has a short conversation with the woman trapped inside the car, who then lapses into unconsciousness just as an ambulance arrives. Later, Frances learns that the woman, Alys Kyte, died just minutes later. When Frances is asked to visit the Kyte family to talk about Alys's last words, her natural impulse is do what's necessary and escape as quickly as possible - until she realises that Alys was the wife of a celebrated, Booker-winning author, Laurence Kyte. Partly by chance and partly by design, she starts an unconventional friendship with the Kytes' 19-year-old daughter Polly, and soon sees an opportunity to ingratiate herself with the family and to better herself, both personally and professionally.

It's only since I've begun writing this review that I've recognised the similarities between this book and one of my very favourite reads from last year - Gillespie and I by Jane Harris. Much like Gillespie and I's Harriet Baxter, Frances is a single woman with a rather empty life - though her age is never actually revealed, it's implied that she is in her mid-thirties, and she spends her days toiling away as a sub-editor on a left-of-centre newspaper, the Questioner. She has few friends, an awkward and distant relationship with her parents, and is often treated as a dogsbody by her boss. However, she is not simply a lonely person craving any sort of human interaction: faced with potential interest from a scruffily dressed, but nevertheless attractive and available, male colleague at a party in his shabby flat, she baulks and flees. Rather, Frances fancies herself as something of a social climber, and as she begins to realise how far her association with the Kytes could take her, her determination and ambition grow - along with her deviousness.

At numerous points, Frances is asked: 'where did you come from?' The words are spoken both as an accusation and an endearment. This book - Frances's story - is the answer to that question. With the pace and lucidity of a thriller, Lane shows us how quickly Frances is seduced by the Kytes' lifestyle - not just the privilege and status, the adoring acolytes and luxurious homes, but how easy and expected it all is. The simplest observations of the family's everyday routines illustrate with great clarity how unassumingly blessed they are, and this is a state Frances becomes increasingly desperate to achieve. The reader, too, is beguiled by this coveted lifestyle: at so many points I just wanted to jump into the book, to live inside it. In this it reminded me of another great, and similarly evocative, read from last year - The Poison Tree by Erin Kelly. But where Kelly's novel was ruined by a daft, schlocky ending, Lane's boasts a conclusion that is dark, delicious, and absolutely perfect. Frances is a brilliant creation, by turns sympathetic and terrifying, but always so believable that you forget you're reading fiction.

Engrossing to the point of being absolutely addictive, this is one of those books that makes you feel you've fallen into a different world: after I'd devoured it within less than 24 hours, I looked up from it dazed and a little bit lost. In this review, I have defined it mainly through comparisons to other books, but it is a wonderful novel in its own right. I have a penchant for debut fiction, and am often drawn to first novels, but even so, this really is a stunning effort. I loved the story, loved the style and found myself thoroughly under the spell of Frances and the Kyte family. Harriet Lane, you have a fan for life!

Rating: 10/10

Book review: The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

2012-02-15T21:04:00.001Z

The Snow Child (2012) by Eowyn Ivey

Eowyn Ivey's debut The Snow Child is one of those zeitgeist books that seems to have a significant buzz about it right now. Whether this is because of great PR, reader word-of-mouth or simply that it's really that good, people seem to be talking about this book, and the burgeoning hype, along with the promise of an intriguing, magical story, grabbed my interest. When I spotted a special offer (fyi - use the code SNOWCHIL at Amazon UK to get the hardback for £5.99!), I was sold.

Beginning in 1920, this is the story of Mabel and Jack, who make the decision to move out to a homestead in Alaska relatively late in life, in their early fifties. After marrying late and suffering a stillbirth, they have never been able to have children, a source of great sorrow to Mabel in particular. The move to Alaska is meant to represent a new start, a peaceful, simple and traditional life together without interference from relatives or acquaintances. But there are problems: Jack is getting too old to work the land on his own, and is struggling to keep going; Mabel's repressed grief is magnified by her isolation; the Alaskan wilderness is lonely and unforgiving. One night, however, a fresh snowfall briefly reawakens their passion for life and each other, and they excitedly build a snow girl, even giving her a hat and mittens. The next morning, the snow girl is gone, seemingly destroyed by a wild animal - but there are tiny footprints in the snow, and Jack thinks he glimpses a child running through the forest.

The story is based on a traditional Russian tale, 'Snegurochka' (the snow maiden), and Ivey's commitment to retaining the fairytale feel really shows. This is a fully fleshed-out and detailed story, spanning a number of years and featuring a complete cast of characters - Mabel and Jack's neighbours and later friends, the Benson family, have a significant role to play in what happens - yet it never loses that sense of the otherworldly. The essence of Alaska's harsh beauty is communicated wonderfully, so that you understand how the characters can both love and hate their environment, but at the same time there's always a hint of something etheral. Is Faina, the child who becomes so precious to the couple, actually a magical being, or is there some rational explanation for her sudden appearance and apparently nomadic life in the forest? Outside the story, the idea of a snow child coming to life sounds silly, but the narrative manages to balance (often brutal) reality with suggestions of fantasy, making the plot believable even as it keeps you guessing about Faina's true origins.

The biggest problem with The Snow Child was that despite enjoying the book, I didn't get emotionally involved or feel particularly moved: tears never even pricked my eyes, even though this is technically a very emotive story. Plenty of other reviewers have fallen head-over-heels in love with this book, but as much as I think it is largely worth the hype, this just didn't happen for me. Also, I wasn't keen on the way every part of the story suggested a person's life is incomplete unless they have children. Yes, I know this is the whole idea the plot rests on, and it wouldn't really work properly without it, and it's set in more traditional times, in a part of the world where having a family was one of the only things you could hope to successfully achieve and was arguably necessary for survival... But nevertheless, I couldn't help being a bit turned off by this implication. Finally, this book contains a lot more descriptions of hunting, killing, gutting (etc) animals than you would ever guess from the whimsical title and plot. These didn't put me off reading, but I could have done without them, to be honest.

That aside, this is an enchanting story and definitely a very impressive debut. I often find first novels 'stumble' in places, but, apart from a jarring 'off of' within the first few pages, the narrative flows beautifully and the style feels very assured. The blurb describes it as an 'instant classic' and while I wouldn't quite go that far, it does have a timeless quality that I'm sure will give it enduring appeal. It will be interesting to see what Ivey does next: as an Alaskan native, it's no real surprise she has captured the setting so evocatively, but her tender depiction of the protagonists' relationship suggests this is more than a one-hit wonder. A lovely diversion from reality, and an author to keep an eye on in the future.

Rating: 8/10

Spring wishlist: work dresses

2012-02-13T00:03:00.001Z

DOROTHY PERKINS
Grey lace pencil dress, £30; Black/white tile print dress, £39.50; Navy V-neck peplum dress, £28
Closet Blu magenta pleat neck dress, £32; Navy and black 2 in 1 dress, £35; Green pleat waist dress, £35

ASOS
Midi Pencil Dress with Colour Block Cowl, £22.50 reduced from £45; Pencil Dress with Scallop Detail, £27 reduced from £45

BOOHOO
Gemma Ponte Roma Midi Capsleeved Bodycon Dress in Rust, £25; Catherine Metallic Front Panel Short Sleeve Midi Dress, £20 (ha, how cumbersome are these product names!)

TESCO
F&F Limited Edition Pleat tailored dress, £30; F&F Limited Edition Contrast pocket dress, £30
For the past couple of months, I've been compiling a wishlist that's gradually grown to the extent that I've now started dividing it into categories. As much as I want plenty of frivolous things that play to this season's trends, I can't help wanting some more boring, practical things as well, and what I need the most right now is a good selection of work dresses. I've also been trying to limit myself to dresses I can feasibly afford, rather than lusting after things from Reiss and Whistles I will never have the slightest chance of owning.

I don't know if genuinely wanting a lot of things from Dorothy Perkins is an official sign of ageing, but if it is, then I guess I must really be getting old. I think if I could choose one dress from this whole lot, it would be the tile print dress, which I've seen in store and the fit, fabric and length are all perfect - so I'm hoping it's still around next month when I might actually be able to buy it. Same goes for the ASOS ones. I'm a bit dubious about Boohoo's quality - I don't remember it being particularly good last time I bought from them, although admittedly, that was a few years ago. Anyway, if that red dress comes back into stock in my size, I'd consider risking it. As for Tesco, I'm not wild about their product photography, but I've always found their clothes to be great for the price (plus I already have that pleat dress in camel, and it's lovely).

Crossing my fingers that a few of these are still in stock come next payday. Is there anywhere else I should be looking for good-yet-cheap work dresses?

February books so far

2012-02-11T18:04:00.000Z

An Object of Beauty (2010) by Steve Martin

This third novel by comedian and actor Steve Martin boasts a great opening line, which I found impossible to resist:

I am tired, so very tired of thinking about Lacey Yeager, yet I worry that unless I write her story down, and see it bound and tidy on my bookshelf, I will be unable to ever write about anything else.

The narrator is Daniel, an art writer in 1990s New York. However, he is a largely featureless figure, with his narrative (as the above suggests) being almost entirely devoted to his friend and one-time lover, Lacey Yeager. Lacey is an art dealer - an up-and-coming young gun at the story's beginning, and a gallery owner by its end, fifteen years later. Daniel observes and listens to much of Lacey's story, and fills in the blanks using his imagination, so it's almost as though this is just a third-person narrative about Lacey: we never learn much about Daniel's own life, and I often forgot he was there. The plot traces Lacey's career and hints at Daniel's involvement in her sudden, mysterious acquisition of a large amount of money, an event which proves to have lasting repercussions on the lives of both characters.

That opening sentence - along with the general premise of the novel - instantly had me hooked, but all in all I found it a bit of a lacklustre affair. I liked the idea of it more than the reality, I think, and I felt that the final revelation regarding Lacey's windfall was a little anticlimatic. My favourite part of the plot was probably Lacey's relationship with Patrice - but let's be real, this is mainly because I want a hot affair with a sexy older multi-millionaire European art collector. When do I get mine??

My main problem with this book was the same issue that stopped me giving Kirsten Tranter's otherwise excellent The Legacy full marks: I am mentioning the comparison because both books feature an impossibly alluring young woman involved in a relationship with an older man amidst the New York art scene, although the plots are very different. Lacey, like The Legacy's Ingrid, is one of those characters we're constantly told amazing things about without any clear supporting evidence or justification for them. She has an incredible effect on almost every person she ever comes into contact with, yet I was never quite sure why, or at least I never felt convinced this would truly be the case in real life. I wasn't entirely sure the narrative style worked, either, and I was constantly frustrated by my desire to know more about Daniel. I understand why he's there, but I don't think fleshing him out a bit more, giving him a life of his own beyond an outline of his career, would have been detrimental to the story.

I liked the themes of this book - the world of fine art, New York, Lacey's glamorous lifestyle and the unspoken mysteries lurking behind it - but ultimately it all just seemed a bit... flat. I wanted to get emotionally involved in the story, but because the narrator was virtually anonymous, and therefore the narrative could only get so far under Lacey's skin, and Lacey herself was (in my opinion) somewhat unrealistic, I couldn't engage with it properly. Interesting, sexy, but in the end, a little too empty.

Rating: 7/10

Cold Earth (2009) by Sarah Moss

Cold Earth follows a group of young people on an archaeological dig in Greenland. The team is made up of four archaeologists, Ruth, Catriona, Ben and Jim, along with their team leader Yianni, and Nina, a literature student who has tagged along for various vague reasons. A mixture of nationalities and backgrounds, they struggle to get along in the isolated, cramped conditions of the camp, with only sporadic access to the internet providing a link with the outside world. With reports of a potential pandemic starting to surface as they arrive in Greenland, they are faced with the possibility that a deadly virus may be spreading across the rest of the world, making them anxious about their families and friends, and eventually prompting the uncomfortable and terrifying question: could they be the only ones left? The book is written as a series of letters from the team members to their loved ones back home, with the perspective switching to different characters as it progresses.

Unfortunately, the first third of the book is lumbered with impossible-to-like Nina as narrator. She is selfish, childish, pretentious, hideously judgemental, throws tantrums for next to no reason, decides she hates Ruth because she takes care of her appearance while on the dig (yet she - Nina, that is - claims to be a feminist...!), and is irritatingly obsessed with her boyfriend, to whom her narrative is addressed. She drops brand names into her account for no reason other, it seems, than to show off (when she's had a panic attack and Yianni makes her hot chocolate: 'when I didn't think about Charbonnel et Walker, it was warm and sweet') and makes awful, selfish statements about the pandemic, since her boyfriend is the only person she cares about ('the rest of the country can lie dying in the streets for all I care as long as you are all right') - which begs the question of why she would ever have agreed to join the expedition in the first place. She's supposed to love adventure, but this doesn't gel with her needy and immature personality.

Then we're handed over to Ruth, who (thank god) is much more likeable. Through Ruth's eyes, we see that Nina's neurotic tendencies are escalating into a sort of madness, as she becomes convinced that the team's activity is causing them to be haunted by malevolent ghosts. Ruth, who has ghosts of her own, isn't convinced, even as the rest of the group becomes increasingly spooked by unexplained noises and strange voices in the night. We hear from the other characters too, but the chapters get progressively shorter and more urgent as the situation worsens.

Although I didn't think this book was brilliant, it was undoubtedly the most gripping thing I've read in a while, and I thought the premise was excellent. I even liked the ending. I just wished I could have taken this journey with characters I actually wanted to read about. I liked Ruth, but that was about it, and I wasn't keen on how the female characters were all obsessively attached to men who seemed to be rather indifferent about them, and I simply couldn't believe how insufferable Nina was. A great idea with a compelling plot and some chilling, thought-provoking moments, but ultimately it's marred by the characters, and because of this I found it difficult to actually enjoy.

Rating: 7/10

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating (2010) by Elisabeth Tova Bailey

A short, uplifting memoir, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating is the story of Elisabeth Tova Bailey's illness and recovery. A healthy, active woman, she is quite suddenly struck down by a mystery illness, which proves difficult to diagnose and treat. One day, she is brought a pot of violets as a gift by a friend, and inside the pot is a snail. As she is bedridden, the snail becomes a kind of pet, as she observes its daily movements, becomes accustomed to its habits, and begins to feel emotionally attached to it.

I hadn't heard of this book until it popped up as Amazon's Kindle Daily Deal. The unusual but lovely title appealed to me, as did the idea of the author's fascination with her snail - I loved them as a child, and often used to try bringing them inside and keeping them as pets. But, although the book does feature a lot of factual information about snails, it is really about how finding wonder in small things and the beauty of nature can help those in difficult situations, particularly if they are isolated. Although minimal, the prose style is quietly beautiful and the book is very well-written.

I imagine it would be difficult to dislike this book (unless, of course, you really hate snails), because Bailey writes with such charm and even the most hard-hearted reader will empathise with the frustration of her condition. However, it's very slight, and at least half the text is taken up by facts the author has found out during her research on the lives of snails, which make it feel more like a biology essay than a memoir. Instead of this, I would have liked to read more about her life before and after the illness. I enjoyed this book, and I can understand why it was sparsely written, but the fact that Bailey's style was so appealing made it all the more frustrating that her experience wasn't expanded on in more detail.

Rating: 6/10

Reading round-up: January

2012-02-01T13:21:00.003Z

1. Miracle On Regent Street by Ali Harris - 6/10 (full review). A fluffy, Christmas-themed piece of chick lit: the romantic elements are ridiculously cheesy and implausible, but the book is just about rescued by its sweet, heartwarming depiction of friendships and refreshingly non-patronising attitude towards its characters.
2. The Somnambulist by Essie Fox - 6/10 (full review). A pastiche of Victorian gothic in the tradition of Sarah Waters, this spooky mystery promises a lot but doesn't really deliver: the plot goes over the top with an excessive, and ultimately exhausting, number of twists.
3. The Midnight Palace by Carlos Ruiz Zafón - 6/10 (full review). One of the author's early YA books, recently translated into English, this is a bit daft and inevitably childish, but quite exciting - and much better than its predecessor, The Prince of Mist. A good easy read for a night in.
4. Invisible by Paul Auster - 10/10 (full review). Completely dazzling, compulsively readable, and effortless, this is my favourite book by Auster so far - a dark coming-of-age tale with the tone and pace of a thriller. This is what fiction should be, and I wish I could find more brilliant novels like this!
5. Man in the Dark by Paul Auster - 8/10 (full review). Telling the story of an ageing writer who relates the story of his own life through a fictional character trapped in an alternate, war-torn version of America, this is very short but quite enjoyable. However, it will be nothing new for fans of Auster, and it's not his best work (see above).
6. The Enchantment of Lily Dahl by Siri Hustvedt - 7/10 (full review). One of the strangest books I've read for a while. This is a meandering story about a girl finding her way through life in small-town America, with a cast of very odd characters and a heavy dose of the surreal. Interesting, but not wholly satisfying.

I think it's fair to say this year's reading hasn't got off to a great start, and with the obvious exception of Invisible (which has jumped straight into my all-time-favourites list), I haven't come across anything I've found enormously inspiring. I think that's why I've been slacking on writing up reviews and posting them here - it's hard to find the motivation when everything you're reading is just, well, okay. I'm slogging through two books at the moment and neither of them are really that great. None of this has made me feel particularly enthusiastic about reading and I've probably spent more of my spare time listening to music this month.

I have lots of books on my wishlist, most of which haven't been released yet, or else they've been released fairly recently and I can't afford them, so the library is my only hope. Speaking of which, I have still got a few library books waiting for me after I've finished the current couple, but my expectations are low and I'm starting to lose faith in my own judgement...! Have you read anything amazing lately? I need inspiration!

Baroque decadence

2012-01-23T23:29:00.002Z

1. Vintage Versace (source) / 2. Topshop shirt, dress and jacket / 3. Motel shirt and skirt / 4. D&G Spring 2012 collection (via Style.com / 5. Versace for H&M / 6. Topshop Spring 2012 lookbook / 7. River Island vest, dress and top / 8. Vintage Versace (source) / 9. Motel shirt and jeans
I've been thinking about baroque/scarf prints ever since Lady Gaga started wearing all that 80s and 90s Versace, closely (and obviously not coincidentally) followed by the launch of Versace for H&M. These completely over-the-top prints hark back to my style of 'yesteryear' (approximately 2005) when I had a wardrobe bursting with leopard print and tacky gold stuff, and the above collection of images isn't so much a wishlist as a general moodboard. That phase is behind me now (although I'll always have a magpie-like appreciation for trashy gold), and I'm pretty sure I have neither the youth nor the glamour to pull this sort of thing off. Partly because of the aforementioned Versace renaissance, partly because of the most recent (and final) D&G collection, these prints seem to be popping up all over the place on the high street this season, especially in Topshop's 'South Pacific' collection and at River Island, which might as well have been MADE for this sort of thing. It would be stretching the truth to say I'm seriously contemplating buying the majority of the above, but I think a scarf print silk shirt would be an excellent investment for spring... tucked into a pair of high-waisted trousers or a sleek pencil skirt, or worn loose with skinny jeans and a simple blazer (sorry, I thought I was writing an eBay listing for a moment there). I've got my eye on the Topshop one, but might hold back in case a more attractive colour scheme pops up anywhere else. Meanwhile I'll be scouring the internet for ludicrously expensive actual vintage Versace shirts and crying into my keyboard at the fact that I will never own them.

January books so far

2012-01-19T22:13:00.002Z

January's reading so far has been an average run, I have to say. Apart from one very special book, but I'll do that separately because a) it's too good to lump in with the rest and b) ...I haven't written the review yet anyway. On that note, the Best Books of 2011 list is still a work in progress. Yes, still. Be patient.

The Somnambulist (2011) by Essie Fox

As a fan of Victorian gothic, I knew I'd want to read The Somnambulist the moment I heard about it. Aside from the great title and gorgeous cover, the plot sounded appealingly twisted and involving in a Sarah Waters kind of way (which, I'm pretty sure, is the effect the author was going for). The protagonist, and the narrator for much of the story, is Phoebe Turner, a seventeen-year-old girl who idolises her glamorous aunt Cissy, a singer and actress. Her mother, Maud, couldn't be more of a contrast: an evangelical and pious woman, still in mourning for Phoebe's long-dead father, who decries the theatre as immoral and ungodly. When Cissy dies, Phoebe is granted a lifeline by Nathaniel Samuels, an enigmatic businessman who may have been her aunt's lover, and to whom Phoebe finds herself strangely drawn. Employed as the companion of Nathaniel's ailing wife, she travels to the family's could-be-haunted country pile, Dinwood Court, where she begins to make a series of momentous discoveries about her own history.

This book was full of elements I'm always attracted to, and I did enjoy reading it, but it was all just so... muddled. There were far too many twists and turns piled on top of each other and I could feel the plot creaking and near-collapsing beneath the weight of them all. The problem was that many of these twists, particularly those regarding Phoebe's true provenance, were largely predictable. There were a few I hadn't anticipated, but there were so many of them altogether that these didn't really register: the story was completely saturated with unexpected developments, which both removed the element of surprise, and distorted some of the characters beyond recognition. I also felt Phoebe's reactions often seemed inappropriate for the situations she found herself in - considering how many terrible things she had heaped upon her, she rarely seemed to exhibit the shock or despair I would have expected.

I liked this book when I was immersed in it - it had a good momentum and was grimly absorbing, and the ending was well-crafted and nicely subtle. However, overall I think it was just another largely forgettable historical drama which didn't do enough to distinguish itself from the many similar books I've read in the past. None of the characters have left a particular impression on me and although it was a decent enough read, nothing about the plot hooked me as I hoped. The epitome of a middling, averagely good book.

Rating: 6/10

The Midnight Palace (1994, translated 2011) by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Obsessive followers of my reviews (come on, I know there's loads of you out there) may have noted that back when I reviewed Carlos Ruiz Zafón's previous YA novel, The Prince of Mist, I said I wasn't going to bother reading this. And it's true, I wasn't. But then I came across a copy and I couldn't resist giving it a try, knowing it wouldn't take me long to read. I'm quite glad I did, as The Midnight Palace is much better than its predecessor.

Like The Prince of Mist, this book was originally intended for the teen market, but the English translation is clearly being aimed more towards the author's adult fans - again, it comes with a foreword extolling its appeal to readers of all ages. The story starts with Ian, now entering old age, recalling his youth in a children's home in Calcutta - specifically the adventures he enjoyed with a tight-knit group of fellow orphans who called themselves the Chowbar Society. Flashback to 1932, when the seven friends are on the cusp of turning sixteen and leaving the orphanage to make their own ways in the world. An elderly woman arrives at the orphanage with a girl of their age, the intriguing Sheere, and so begins a fantastical rollercoaster ride of an adventure.

It's odd that this is supposed to be the second of a trilogy, as other than some elements of fantasy and a seemingly indestructible 'bad guy', it has very little in common with The Prince of Mist. One of the things that annoyed me the most about that book was that it was so vague, completely failing to establish any sense of time or place, and providing very little explanation of the villain's origins. Here, the setting and era of the story are clear from the beginning, and the evil Jawahal is given a backstory that's perhaps too detailed, raising rather a lot of questions. Naturally, since this is YA fiction, it does all get a bit silly - much of the climatic action is really daft. But I did genuinely like the ending, which seemed oddly melancholy and downbeat for a teen book. Overall, a decent little read for fans of the author - atmospheric, exciting and easy to get through in one sitting. Maybe I'll read his next YA translation (due May 2013!) after all.

Rating: 6/10

Miracle On Regent Street (2011) by Ali Harris

This is a Christmas-themed book and I'd bought it as a bit of trash to tide me over during the festive season, then failed to get round to it until the new year had already begun! I had the misguided impression that it was actually historical (albeit girly) fiction, but when I started reading it quickly became apparent Miracle On Regent Street is actually chick-lit, through and through. Evie Taylor is a typical heroine: a 28-year-old single Londoner, average and unthreatening in every way, and surrounded by a predictable cast of characters - the overachieving sister whose life isn't as perfect as it seems, the glamorous 'friend' who turns out to be a bit of a bitch, etc. Evie's life revolves around Hardy's, the department store where she works as a stockroom girl. Despite having an 'invisible' job and being constantly overlooked by most of her colleagues - who don't even know her name - she's passionate about the store (where her parents met and fell in love), which represents her reverence for both old-fashioned romance and vintage style. So when she accidentally overhears that Hardy's is in danger of being shut down if sales don't improve over Christmas, she sets about using her creative ambition to give the departments a series of secret makeovers, aided by an offbeat group of fellow 'invisible' staff.

Of course, there has to be a romance as well: one that's equal parts predictable and ridiculously improbable. The main male lead's interest in Evie is completely unbelievable, and all his actions so artificial I couldn't see him as anything more than a plot device. And anyway, it's obvious from the first chapter who Evie's going to end up with. By far my favourite parts of the book were those that involved Evie's mission to save Hardy's - I wished it could ALL have been about this, rather than getting bogged down in dull relationship/family subplots. The camaraderie between Evie and her mismatched team of 'Christmas elves' is beautifully depicted, and as cheesy as it all undoubtedly is, I found myself drawn in and moved by their mission to revitalise the store and turn its fortunes around. As an ex-retail worker myself, I liked that the story didn't patronise its characters for not having done anything 'better' with their lives than working in a shop. And the happy ending made me smile, despite myself.

This isn't anything more than a light, throwaway read, but it's sweet and heartwarming. It's definitely seasonal - the entire plot is structured around Christmas, and I'd probably have enjoyed it a little more if I'd got round to reading it a few weeks earlier. Complete fluff, but we all need a bit of something soft and sugary sometimes, don't we?

Rating: 6/10

Christmas materialism in pictures

2012-01-01T01:03:00.001Z

1. Primark, River Island & Topshop pencil skirts, £5, £15 and £15 respectively / 2. Topshop trousers (black), £15 & 3x New Look trousers, £8 each / 3. Reese's Puffs cereal / 4. Tangle Teezer / 5. Accessorize silk scarf / 6. Internaçionale coat, £20 / 7. Amy Winehouse - Lioness: Hidden Treasures / 8. Body Shop body butters in Wild Cherry, Lychee Blossom and Cranberry Joy, £5 each / 9. New Look heels, £10 / 10. Garage Shoes heels, £19.99 / 11. Melted clock! / 12. DVDs: The Devil's Double, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, X-Men First Class, Doctor Who Series 5 & 6 / 13. Blouse from local boutique, £8 / 14. H&M top, £5 / 15. Ocean Air candle / 16. La Senza bras, £5 & £10 / 17. Babyliss Glamour Waves / 18. Babyliss Big Hair
A bit of a photo-compilation of things I either got for Christmas or bought in the sales. I've probably spent a bit too much money this last couple of weeks (!) but I don't really regret it; I've got loads of bargains and have more or less acquired an all-new work wardrobe, so I shouldn't have to buy anything for a while now (easier said than done). I also have so many new hair tools that my hair should theoretically look ALL AMAZING, ALL THE TIME in 2012. Speaking of which, I can't actually believe it's 2012...

My Christmas and new year were (mostly...) uneventful but nice. My new year's resolutions are simple: to work hard, read lots, do more exercise and be positive. Oh yeah, and start writing a book (eek). All in all, I feel like this is going to be a good year. It's the year I'll be 28, which in terms of the actual age itself is completely terrifying, but also good because 28 has been my lucky number for as long as I can remember. That means something absolutely amazing is BOUND to happen.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and NYE, and good luck with your resolutions (or plans, or hopes), whatever they may be!

Reading round-up: December

2011-12-31T21:35:00.002Z

It seems like literally five minutes since I last wrote one of these! I can't believe how quickly the month has flown by, but just in the nick of time, here are the books I read in December.

92. Landfall by Helen Gordon - 5/10 (full review). A rather disappointing character study focused on a thirtysomething woman who moves from London back to her parents' house. Lots of interesting themes are half-heartedly explored, but the ending is totally anticlimatic.
93. The Drowning Pool by Syd Moore - 6/10 (full review). This starts off like a straightforward ghost story (if there is such a thing!) but spins into a mash-up of genres - paranormal adventure, crime thriller, historical mystery and chick lit. Entertaining but rather too messy.
94. Great House by Nicole Krauss - 7/10 (full review). Though there is an overarching theme, this is essentially a series of short stories. The tone and style are brilliant, but the characters are hard to connect with - although I strongly related to one in particular.
95. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs - 4/10 (full review). A YA novel about a boy who discovers his late grandfather's stories about children with amazing powers may really have been true, this starts really well but just doesn't go anywhere. Definitely best left to a younger audience.
96. There but for the by Ali Smith - 6/10 (full review). Intriguing and beautifully written, yet seeming to adhere too closely to a particular literary-fiction template, this tale of a man who attends a dinner party and never leaves is a book to admire rather than enjoy.
97. Kafka On the Shore by Haruki Murakami - 5/10 (full review). A double-pronged story with two protagonists, a fifteen-year-old runaway and an elderly man who can speak with cats, this is a magical and philosophical book filled with metaphors. I wish I could say I enjoyed it more than I did, but it just failed to capture my imagination.
98. The Dead of Winter by Chris Priestley - 8/10 (full review). A children's ghost story which I didn't expect much from, this turned out to be surprisingly excellent! Very well-written, chilling and atmospheric, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to adult fans of spooky tales.
99. The Teacher's Tales of Terror by Chris Priestley - 8/10 (full review). Short but sweet, this contains three brief ghost stories, each with a truly devilish twist. While it might be intended to be enjoyed by younger readers, this book genuinely scared me!
100. The Devil's Double by Latif Yahia - 6/10 (full review). The biography on which the film of the same name (my favourite of the year) was based, this is certainly an interesting read, but also quite frustrating due to the lack of evidence that any of it is actually true.

This month's reading was a bit of a mixed bag, with literary and genre fiction, children's and YA books, and non-fiction. But the important thing is, of course, that I JUST managed to reach my year's goal of 100 books! It wasn't easy and I think I'll be setting myself a lower goal next year (or sticking to the original 2011 number of 75). I DID cheat a bit by reading a couple of children's books which took me no time at all to get through... but I DID IT!

Sadly, I haven't read anything I found amazing for quite some time and as much as this month was a mixed bag genre-wise, it was the same story as far as my ratings were concerned. I read a couple of books I'd been looking forward to for months - namely There but for the and Landfall - which failed to ignite any great passion in me. I read my first Murakami in Kafka On the Shore and was distinctly underwhelmed. I dipped my toe into YA fiction with Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children and was really disappointed. All in all, the best books I read in December were a couple of short volumes by Chris Priestley, a writer of ghost stories for children. I'm glad I finally managed to find some modern kids' fiction I didn't hate (it's so popular among the book-obsessed people of the internet and I always feel like such a spoilsport for not generally liking it), but I'd much rather read a great novel, and I can't wait to discover the next addition to my all-time-favourites list.

I'm working on my Best of 2011 list and book-related resolutions/predictions for the coming year, to be posted in the next few days. Happy New Year - I'll see you in 2012!

Songs of 2011

2011-12-30T23:56:00.000Z

I seem to say something similar every single year, but I feel like I've taken hardly any notice of music in 2011 at all. Gone are the days when I would spend all my money/time buying/downloading (delete as applicable according to the era) new music; gone are the days when I would pride myself on continual obsessions with bands nobody else I knew had even heard of. This isn't to say music means nothing to me, as I still spend a lot of time listening to it and anything significant in my life is bound to have a designated soundtrack. It's just that since around the time I left university - three years of almost non-stop album-buying and gig-going during which music WAS MY LIFE - I've tended to stick to what I already know and like, and when it comes to new discoveries, I do pretty much follow the crowd and am very unlikely to break any new ground.

That said... there's always at least a handful of songs that capture my attention and will forever remind me of the year they either a) became popular or b) entered my consciousness. So here are the songs that will always be associated with 2011 for me.

Lana Del Rey - Video Games
Lana Del Rey has been ubiquitous in the world of the internet this year, but I've got to say I don't really care about the controversy surrounding the question of whether she's 'fake' and 'manufactured'. While it's something that probably would have sent me into spasms of outrage in the past, I just don't care how calculated a piece of marketing Video Games might be, I just absolutely LOVE this song. I know people who really hate it and find her voice dreary but personally, I fail to see how anyone could listen to this and not be moved. My friend Lee said on Twitter that Del Rey has 'a voice to fall in love to' and I have to agree. I've listened to Video Games about a million times and I'm still not sick of it; no matter where her career goes next, this is a timeless song.

The Veils - Jesus for the Jugular
I first heard this on the soundtrack to The Devil's Double but, in all honesty, didn't give it much attention since said soundtrack was mostly dominated by trashy 80s pop classics. I only downloaded it in the interest of owning all the songs from the soundtrack, and thereafter found myself completely transfixed by it. There's such a weird, sinister, portentous feel to it that I can't really account for or explain. It's no surprise it ended up being used in a film as it's so atmospheric - I'm still not sure what it's actually about, but I feel like something important should be happening to me every time I listen to it. I definitely need to get round to listening to more from this band (who I hadn't heard of before discovering this song).

Amy Winehouse - Tears Dry (Original Version)
This is a track from the posthumous Amy Winehouse collection Lioness: Hidden Treasures. I'm planning to write a whole other blog post about the album, so I won't go into it too much here. But this is by far my favourite song on the compilation: a beautiful, heartbreaking demo of Tears Dry On Their Own in its original form - as a ballad rather than the upbeat song it later became. It's haunting, a wonderful paean to love and regret, and has truly changed the way I listen to the album version.

Depeche Mode - Personal Jesus
This is obviously a really old song, but I only really got into it this year, and once again it was via the soundtrack to The Devil's Double. Not much more to say here other than I found it completely infectious and it wins the prize for song most played loud in my car during 2011.

Dev - Booty Bounce
So yeah, this is a bit embarrassing, but this song HAS to be included because if at any point in 2011 I was getting ready to go out or driving somewhere at high speed, I was probably listening to this. As with a lot of pop songs I got REALLY fed up of it after so many listens, but while the obsession lasted I couldn't get enough of it. The same might as well be said of quite a few of her songs - see also this, this and even this (who am I kidding, especially that).

Sleigh Bells - Infinity Guitars
I'd almost completely forgotten about this - I think I overplayed it earlier in the year and kind of wore it out. But it's still a great, great song and I will never get over how fantastic the massive guitar-crashing climax at 2:04 sounds.

Katy B - Louder
I had a bit of a Katy B moment earlier this year and it was hard to decide whether I included this or Easy Please Me in my list - the lyrics of the latter are far more relevant to my life, but I went with Louder because I just really love the way it sounds. I have no clue about dubstep (if that's what it is, tbh I have no idea what that even MEANS) but I know I like this. I also love the video - even though it's so simple it makes me feel inexplicably positive and nostalgic for the early days of summer.

Book review: There but for the by Ali Smith

2011-12-30T19:49:00.001Z

There but for the (2011) by Ali Smith

I just... don't know. I don't know about this book. Believe me when I say that I really wanted to love it. I 'saved' it for some time before beginning, and when I didn't feel much into it on the first try, I left it for a while and tried again. Everything (the premise, Smith's reputation, great reviews in the press and here on Goodreads) suggested it would be a wonderful, even revelatory read, and yet... I mean, maybe I've shot myself in the foot by reading so many books this year. Maybe I've got some sort of book fatigue. I always get confused when I see people reading hundreds of books a year and they're almost all the same genre; endless romance, or endless YA paranormal adventure, or endless murder mysteries. I would never judge someone else's reading habits, but I do wonder how it's possible for people to read the same type of book repeatedly - especially if they finish several per week - and not get bored of reading such similar things over and over again.

The problem with this book, then, is that I feel like I've already read it several times this year. Back in the days when I read about 10-20 books a year, there's every possibility I would have been blown away by this, thought it was an absolute masterpiece. But what I've begun to realise recently is that there's a certain type of acclaimed literary novel that can be every bit as predictable as its trashier equivalent. These books are always loosely constructed around some sort of plot idea but aren't really 'about' whatever that is; they always rely heavily on themes of memory, loss, regret, grief and how we relate to others; the narrator/s is/are usually someone old, or older, looking back and reflecting on events from their childhood and younger life; the meaning and significance of language, how we choose to use it, and the formation of stories about our lives/ourselves invariably play a key role. Examples from my reading of this year alone are: Great House, Landfall, The Blue Book, The Sense of an Ending, The Sea, The Gathering, The Finkler Question, to some extent Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections and a couple of Paul Auster's books. All of these can, at least loosely, be said to fit into the above description. In particular, The Sense of an Ending and The Blue Book are incredibly similar to There but for the, to the point that they could almost have been written by the same person.

To summarise the story, it's 'about' a man, Miles, who goes upstairs during a dinner party with a group of people he barely knows, locks himself in a spare bedroom, and refuses to come out. This event forms a background for a series of narratives from people loosely connected to Miles. There's Anna, a vague acquaintance from many years ago; Mark, who brought Miles to the party, although the pair had only met briefly before this; May, an elderly woman seemingly facing the end of her life in hospital, whose connections to the dinner-party characters are very slowly revealed; and finally, Brooke, an extremely precocious 10-year-old also present at the party. The narratives are written in the third person, but offer an intimate insight into the characters' thought processes. There are tangents, diversions and recollections galore as the characters explore what their relationships to one another mean, question themselves and dredge up long-lost memories. Brooke's chapter is the best, a lively stream-of-consciousness filled with jokes and puns, witty and clever but, in the end, perhaps a bit pointless.

There is no doubt that Ali Smith is a brilliant writer. Her wordplay and use of language are absolutely wonderful and the characterisation is equally skilful. But I didn't connect with the story, I didn't engage with the narratives, I wasn't desperate to go back to the book whenever I had to put it down; I just didn't like it all that much, to be honest. Sound familiar? It's what I've thought about at least half of the books I listed above. Great writing is great writing, but that alone is not enough to make a great story. Whenever I don't like a literary novel the critics have been raving about, I worry it's because I'm too stupid to truly appreciate it; but I'm really pretty sure that wasn't the case with this. I completely understood everything I was supposed to love about it, it simply failed to elicit any sort of emotional response from me. Sadly, this is another book I very much admired but didn't much enjoy.

Rating: 6/10

More December books

2011-12-22T12:06:00.000Z

The Drowning Pool (2011) by Syd Moore

The story: Sarah Grey, a young mother whose husband has recently died, relocates to the coastal town of Leigh-on-Sea. The seaside community is a welcome escape from reminders of Sarah's past, and she quickly develops a network of close friends. During a drunken night out, Sarah learns that one of the local legends concerns a woman with the same name as her - supposedly a 'sea-witch' who attacked children and cursed a ship and its crew. After that night, Sarah begins to experience a series of visions, dreams and strange incidents, and gradually becomes convinced she is the subject of a haunting by the malevolent spirit of her 19th-century namesake. The story is given a further twist when Sarah discovers she may have a neurological condition; could what she's experiencing be down to a brain tumour? The Drowning Pool (the title relates to a local pond said to have been used for 'ducking' trials during witch-hunts) follows Sarah as, using various methods, she attempts to get to the bottom of what is really going on, and tries to understand why she is being haunted.

The verdict: The awful, tacky cover almost put me off this altogether, but the plot sounded right up my street and the fact that the Kindle edition is just 99p sealed the deal. It's actually a pretty good book, engaging, original and fast-paced; the trouble with it is that it tries to pack so much into one story. It starts as a spooky tale with a psychological twist, as Sarah wonders whether her 'ghost' could be a product of illness or grief, and struggles against her friends' doubt. Then it turns into an assessment of the horrors of witch-hunts from a feminist perspective. Then it starts diverging into Sarah's friends' lives, particularly an old family scandal that appears to have seriously affected one of her closest friends, Sharon. Then it becomes a historical mystery, with Sarah researching her namesake's past and turning up some fascinating old diaries and letters. Then it goes all swoon-worthy-romance for a couple of chapters. Then it becomes a suspense thriller - can Sarah trust the man she is falling for? Finally, it becomes a crime novel with a paranormal slant, resulting in a bloody and really rather daft climax. The genre mash-up is sometimes an advantage, delivering some genuinely unpredictable twists, but in the end it's all too much. It's a shame, because this is an enjoyable story with some truly interesting foundations (the local legends and Sarah's 'haunting'). I don't think I'll be bothering with the author's second novel (there's an unpromising extract at the end of this one), but The Drowning Pool was definitely enough fun to be more than worth 99p.

Rating: 6/10

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2011) by Ransom Riggs

The story: Jacob Portman is an isolated, bored and friendless American teenager. Since childhood he has been very close to his grandfather, who told endless exciting and far-fetched tales about his own youth which Jacob has never forgotten. The stories - about Abraham Portman's escape from horrifying 'monsters' to a children's home full of refugees with amazing powers - have been explained away in intervening years as an allegory for the refugees' survival of WWII. The photographs that accompanied them, supposedly showing the extraordinary abilities of these 'peculiar' children (such as the levitating girl pictured on the cover), Jacob now regards as poorly doctored fakes. However, when his beloved grandfather dies in strange circumstances - leaving behind a letter from his old headmistress, Miss Peregrine, and a series of intriguing clues - Jacob begins to suspect there could have been something more to those odd stories after all. He persuades his father to take a birdwatching trip to the Welsh island where the children's home is situated, and sets out to discover the truth.

The verdict: I was well and truly sucked in by the beginning of the book, and initially it had all the makings of a great light read. The set-up is well-crafted - lonely Jacob is a sympathetic character, the mystery of his grandfather's past is tantalising, and the island itself, while contrived, is a suitably atmospheric setting for the rest of the action. The trouble begins about a third of the way in: after Jacob has solved the mystery of the children's home (which doesn't appear to surprise him anywhere near as much as it should), the book slumps into a very formulaic series of events in which everything seems to happen way too easily. The tension collapses, the characters' speech (whether faux-British slang-laden or 'old-fashioned') is beyond parody, and Jacob's voice is uneven, sounding far too mature and descriptive at certain points. I don't want to give any spoilers away, but so many of the major developments left me with a lot of unanswered questions, and the conclusion was far from satisfying (or, indeed, conclusive). And yes, I know it's for kids, but good YA literature should no more be peppered with plot holes than the adult equivalent.Despite its popularity among the online reading community, I rarely read YA fiction, and this book reminded me of why. I was immediately sucked in by the fascinating premise, but the story ended up being a lukewarm rehash of elements of X-Men and Harry Potter, without any of the drama, excitement or decent characterisation. Unsurprisingly, my conclusion about this book is that I'd have enjoyed it much more 15 years ago. Not quite a complete waste of time, but I wouldn't recommend this to adult readers at all.

Rating: 4/10

Great House (2011) by Nicole Krauss

The story: Great House is both a novel with an overarching theme, and a collection of short stories - most of which are told in two parts, and all of which have loose connections with the others. In All Rise, a lonely writer in New York is haunted by the memory of a Chilean poet she met many years ago. In True Kindness, an elderly man in Israel, close to death, is both infuriated and pained by recollections of his difficult relationship with his youngest son. In Swimming Holes, a man is consumed with jealousy over the mystery of his wife's connection to a young male visitor, and after her death he sets out to discover the truth about what they meant to one another. Finally, in Lies Told By Children, a young American student at Oxford University becomes infatuated with a brother and sister whose father, an antiques dealer, has devoted his life to recovering the furniture stolen from his family by the Nazis. A single motif connects these stories: a huge, imposing antique writer's desk, owned by a variety of the characters at different points in history, and pivotal to the lives of a few.

The verdict: This is yet another of those literary novels that's all about characters looking back on their lives, meditating on loss, memory and regret (see also: this year's Booker winner, Julian Barnes' The Sense of an Ending). Everything seems to be unspoken, everything is dreadfully complicated, and everyone suffers in silence, hardly ever simply asking for the answers they seek. In a lot of ways, it's nothing new, but the key thing is, this woman really can write. I frequently found the descriptions breathtaking, and the characterisation is wonderful; even if the characters' actions are often frustrating and sometimes very hard to understand, they seem so real. I found myself highlighting paragraphs all over the place: partly because I strongly related to a couple of the characters (especially Nadia, the narrator of All Rise), but also because their observations were so beautifully put, succinct yet poetic. However, my favourite part of the book was the very first story-half, which I genuinely loved, but the rest of it failed to match up to that promise. It isn't that I didn't like the use of short stories to build a fractured narrative, more that I felt there was something fundamental missing - I simply couldn't connect with most of the characters as I'd have liked to. I would read something else by Krauss, because I think she is a wonderful writer, but I just couldn't fall in love with this book, no matter how much I admired the tone and style.

Rating: 7/10

BUMPER CHRISTMAS POST

2011-12-20T23:05:00.000Z

Somehow the entire run-up to Christmas has happened without me writing a single blog post about it. This is bad form, because I LOVE Christmas and everything about the festive period. It's just that for the past few weeks I've been 'snowed under' (ho ho ho) with work and #partyseason antics, and have been kind of absent from the internet. And now it's five days until Christmas Day! How did that happen?

Whenever I look at other Christmas want lists on blogs, it always seems like everyone has a perfectly formed wishlist consisting mainly of clothes, makeup, perfume and cute homeware. Mine isn't like that. I think it's because I a) am highly dubious about other people buying me clothes, b) I always completely forget about makeup and beauty stuff, and c) I buy myself anything I REALLY want, and if I don't REALLY want it then chances are I'll have forgotten it existed by the time the 'what do you want for Christmas?' moment rears its head.

So, I know everyone and their cat has done one of these already, but here's mine anyway...

1. A hairdryer. It doesn't matter which one, this is just a generic picture of a hairdyer - as long as it's better than the one I'm using at the moment, which was £6 from Argos about 5 years ago and is even more useless than one of those you get attached to the wall in foreign hotels, then I'll be happy.

2. Ferrero Rocher with LIMITED EDITION ~green~ PISTACHIO FLAVOUR!!! Enough said.

3. I spotted this Versace-rip-off print dress in Miss Selfridge the other day, and upon inspection of the website I discovered there's also a slightly odd sleeveless shirt version with a strange hole in the back. I wouldn't mind either, although it's highly unlikely I'll buy them myself unless they're at least half price.

4. DVDs, of course: Doctor Who series 5 & 6, True Blood Season 3, The Big Bang Theory complete boxset, X-Men: First Class and Pirates of the Caribbean 4. Don't judge my taste in TV and film, please, I use it for pure escapism, okay. (I obviously also want The Devil's Double but that doesn't come out until Boxing Day, when I will venture out and get it for myself.)

5. THIS DRESS. Aaaahhhh, this dress!! Brace yourselves, I am about to use a Clichéd Blogger Phrase... It is THE DRESS OF DREAMS. Let's face it, I have put on far too much weight to get away with this sort of thing anymore, but if someone bought me this dress, I WOULDN'T CARE. It combines my three favourite things: 1) black 2) gold and 3) tacky shit. It couldn't BE any more perfect and if it gets reduced, I am 100% definitely buying it for myself. And breathe.

6. This ASOS Slim Heritage Check (or 'CHeck') Coat has been on my wishlist for months now. I just keep hoping they're going to reduce it to less than £60. Then I spotted... 7. the Belted Midi Coat the other day whilst idly browsing (always dangerous). HOW GORGEOUS IS IT?! I feel as though it would make me look a million dollars, but in reality I'd probably look like a bag lady shuffling around in it.

Okay, that's it for the wishlisting. How do people find all these things to wish for?! It's exhausting. I could of course make a wild imaginary one and stick an iPad, £100 candles and £150 bottles of perfume, Steve Coogan and this (!!!) on it but that would just depress me, frankly. A £48 dress is unrealistic enough at the moment. Paying the gas bill is unrealistic enough at the moment, ffs.

I've watched Scrooged about 4 and a half times over the past few days. I really, really fancy Bill Murray in this film, which is a bit weird because I've never fancied him in anything else. Ever. I think it's the suit.

I also saw this for the first time ever a few days ago... Yes, I know it's hard to believe but I've seriously never seen Nightmare Before Christmas before now. I was nine when it came out, okay, and I saw the trailer in the cinema and THE ANIMATION TERRIFIED ME. It wasn't this trailer either, it was a much scarier one. Anyway, at 27 I've finally decided I am old enough to withstand the horror, and I really liked it. (I also saw Elf for the first time this year - not, I hasten to add, because I was previously scared of it. I'm just way behind with Christmas films, but I still maintain that Santa Claus: The Movie is a classic.)

This is the best Christmas song of all time, just in case anyone needed reminding.

I FINALLY managed to figure out what this song is after being subjected to it day after day at work last year and then realising I kind of... really liked it.

This took me so long to write I missed The Only Way Is EsseXmas and will have to watch it on the dreaded ITV Player. I hope you're happy with that. PS, Merry Christmas.

Book review: Landfall by Helen Gordon

2011-12-05T23:20:00.001Z

Landfall (2011) by Helen Gordon

Landfall is a funny book. I don't mean that it's amusing - the absence of any humour is one of the problems with it. I mean that it confounded my expectations, but not in a particularly good way. Having read the blurb and extracts from a number of reviews, I had a certain impression of what I was about to read, but almost nothing I anticipated turned out to have anything to do with the reality of the book. Although there are various elements of mystery and intrigue running through it, as well as a continuous theme about the ways in which we connect with others, it sidesteps all of these and isn't really about anything at all.

The story is essentially a character study, focused on a 34-year-old woman, Alice, who is single and living in London. An art critic with a good reputation but no real roots, she is haunted by the disappearance of her younger sister, Janey, when both were teenagers. When the magazine she works for folds, she returns to her parents' home in the suburbs to house-sit and reflect on her life. Shortly afterwards, she is charged with looking after her 16-year-old American cousin, Emily, who joins her in the house. The third protagonist is Danny, a lonely kleptomaniac teenager living with his mum and dad next door, who observes the pair and develops an awkward crush on Emily.

Like a lot of debuts, Landfall feels slightly amateurish, and what it reminded me of more than anything was the early work of one of my favourite authors, Scarlett Thomas. I'm not saying it possesses the same immaturity as, say, one of Thomas's fluffy Lily Pascale mysteries, but then it isn't trying to be an amusing, zeitgeisty crime thriller (and anyway, a little bit of those books' warmth, zest and verve definitely wouldn't go amiss here). There are flashes of something really interesting in Alice's conversations with her friends - and later with an artist she idolises, Karin Ericsson - but the narrative seems to swerve away just as these start to touch on genuinely engrossing topics. The dialogue is noticeably artificial in a number of places, and the characters lack the depth they need in a reflective novel like this. Emily, in particular, seems to be a complete caricature of an airhead American teenager, obsessed with her looks and health, perceiving all adults as ancient. The cartoonishness of these character traits seems out of place with the sombre and serious tone of the book and the quiet, uneventful nature of the plot. I never felt the narrative really got under the skin of the characters, even Alice, whose ruminations are described in such detail - and Danny, undoubtedly the most intriguing person in the book, is underused.

Then there's this claim, taken from the back of the book (not a quote from a critic, this is part of the actual blurb): '[this novel] culminates in one of the most surprising and destabilising endings you'll have ever read'. As you can imagine, this raised my expectations for the ending considerably; I was expecting to be knocked off my feet. And then... nothing happens. I mean, there's a climatic event, and some of what I think is described in films as 'mild peril', but nothing revelatory or explosive or in any way staggering. The recurrent references to Janey turn out to be something of a red herring, and perhaps it's the genre-fiction reader in me, but I found this very frustrating.

All in all, it's safe to say I was disappointed by this book. However much the plot hovered on the edge of something intriguing, I felt I was always left to watch rich white people having minor existential crises, while the really interesting stuff was happening somewhere just off the page. That said, I think Helen Gordon has a promising and unique voice, and I will be keeping an eye out for her future work.

Rating: 5/10

Reading round-up: November

2011-12-03T00:38:00.001Z

Aargh! Yet again, I've been neglecting to update here with recent book reviews. The reason for this is that I try to leave a gap between them so I can post about other things as well, but I just haven't had time to write any of those other posts. I HAVE been updating Goodreads, though, and I've linked to all the individual reviews below.

Anyway, here's this month's round-up of the books I've read and what I thought of them.

83. High-Rise by JG Ballard - 6/10 (full review). A postmodern fable about the breakdown of a mini-society within a huge tower block; lacking in subtlety, and filled with inevitably off-putting characters, but alarmingly prescient for its time, and definitely thought-provoking.
84. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline - 8/10 (full review). The most fun I've had with a book in ages, this sci-fi romp set in the near future - in which the whole world is obsessed with an immersive videogame - is witty, exciting and moving. I didn't expect to get into this, but it really surprised me.
85. A Kind of Intimacy by Jenn Ashworth - 8/10 (full review). A dark tale told from the point of view of a lonely, delusional woman who has an unhealthy fascination with her new neighbour. Certainly disturbing, but in places it will ring uncomfortably true with anyone who lives alone.
86. Brodmaw Bay by F.G. Cottam - 9/10 (full review). Another wonderfully chilling ghost story from one of my favourite modern authors. This one follows the Greer family as they relocate to a seemingly idyllic coastal village which harbours some truly terrible secrets...
87. Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman - 7/10 (full review). A funny, sad and believable coming-of-age story, this examines the causes and consequences of a stabbing on an inner-city estate, as seen through the eyes of an 11-year-old boy. The narrative is excellent but the plot ultimately unsatisfying.
88. UR by Stephen King - 6/10 (full review). This is a very short novella about a teacher who mysteriously receives a magical Kindle. Somehow, it's not actually as daft as that makes it sound, but it's still far too brief to be sufficiently involving.
89. The Prestige by Christopher Priest - 8/10 (full review). Genuinely unpredictable, this tells the story of two Victorian magicians locked in an intense rivalry - as discovered by their ancestors in the present day. Full of twists and turns, with an unexpectedly surreal ending.
90. Lustrum by Robert Harris - 8/10 (full review). The second book in a trilogy about Roman statesman Cicero, this picks up the story from Imperium but ups the drama, sex and violence. Compelling, exciting and educational to boot, with brilliantly drawn and sympathetic protagonists.
91. The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga - 6/10 (full review). Told in the form of a letter, this recounts the life of an Indian 'entrepreneur' with a dubious past. It has some fascinating themes, but the lack of any characters you can understand or relate to lets it down.

Brodmaw Bay was my favourite book of the month. I'd been waiting for it for what felt like forever, and I was so glad that it lived up to my expectations. Lustrum was a close second - Robert Harris's trilogy of novels about Cicero is shaping up to be a brilliant series, and I just hope I don't have to wait too long for the third installment to be published. Also worth mentioning from this month's batch are A Kind of Intimacy, Ready Player One and The Prestige, all highly recommended. (NB: I just watched the film version of The Prestige tonight and was really disappointed. The book is quite different from the film, and it's much, much better - very glad I read it first!)

After completing my original 2011 goal of 75 books by early October, I decided to up my goal to 100. This means I have my work cut out for December, as I have to read 9 books... which just about matches my reading levels for most of the previous months, but bear in mind I have Christmas and ~the party season~ to contend with. I'm hoping I will just scrape 100 for the first time EVER!

Book review: Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman

2011-11-24T21:44:00.001Z

Pigeon English (2011) by Stephen Kelman

Harrison Opoku, an 11-year-old boy whose family have recently arrived in England from his native Ghana, is the narrator of this sad and funny hybrid of a coming-of-age tale and and a murder mystery. At the beginning of the book, a boy Harri vaguely knows is stabbed and killed, and he and his friend Dean set out to catch the murderer. Their mission forms the backdrop for Harri's lengthy observations on life in England: the social hierarchy of his school, a first crush on classmate Poppy, home life with his mum and sister in a London tower block, and his terror and admiration of a local gang - the Dell Farm Crew - who rule the surrounding estate. The title has a dual meaning - it refers to Harri's 'pidgin' English, peppered with schoolboy slang and misunderstood words, but also to the pigeon who visits Harri on his balcony, a creature he sees as his friend. The pigeon also serves as a second narrator, in brief interjections which add an intriguing (if ultimately disappointing) edge, suggesting that the bird is somehow watching over and protecting Harri.

Harri is a beguiling and very funny narrator, and Kelman has done a brilliant job of creating an entertaining narrative voice that's also thoroughly believable as that of an 11-year-old boy. So authentic is Harri's narration that I was quite surprised to learn that Kelman is white and British, though not at all surprised that he apparently grew up poor. The book practically exudes a particular kind of masochistic working-class nostalgia, and the setting and its details jump off the page. The story captures perfectly the wonders of childhood and innocence, even in such a bleak environment, in a way that made me remarkably nostalgic for my own schooldays. It's by turns endearing and scary in its depiction of how quickly the children of today are forced (and expected?) to grow up.

The problem with authentic-sounding child narrators is that, after a while, they become exhausting and a little annoying (just as you'd get fed up if you had to listen to a child telling the equivalent of a 300-page story, complete with random and irrelevant diversions). I did find Harri tremendously engaging as a character, and laughed out loud at his observations - especially about school - and misinterpretations on a frequent basis. But I thought the story would have been so much better if a variety of viewpoints had been used: if, as well as Harri, we'd been able to hear from his mother, some of the older gang members, Lydia and Miquita, one of the teachers, the police, even the murdered boy. The contributions we hear from 'the piegon' are very well-crafted, so Kelman obviously has the ability to pull this off. There are so many fascinating characters in the book, all of whom undoubtedly would be able to cast a very different light on its events, and it seems a shame to confine the narration to one young character. Harri's naivety and optimism is an effective filter for the brutal circumstances that surround him, but this only works up to a point before it limits the story and becomes quite frustrating. I kept thinking of Simon Lelic's Rupture, which used multiple narrators to explore the issues surrounding a similarly shocking event - a school shooting - with far more effective results.

The ending is also problematic. Without giving away what happens, it's very blunt, unsatisfying and somewhat anticlimatic following the gradual building of tension throughout the prior chapters. I can understand why the author chose to end the book like this, but I felt cheated more than shocked (and I presume the latter was the intended reaction). I also felt the central mystery, initially introduced as the linchpin of the plot, was never satisfactorily resolved and the abrupt change of direction felt like the author was dodging the responsibility of having to deal with this.

In the end, this is a beautifully crafted and convincing narrative which unfortunately feels incomplete without another voice, another perspective, or a properly conclusive ending. Kelman has done enough here that I am pretty certain I will be interested in his future work, but Pigeon English feels like exactly what it is: the debut novel of a young author. I can understand why some complained about this (among others) being on the Booker Prize shortlist, because honestly, it's not on that level at all - although the author may be, someday.

Rating: 7/10

Book review: Brodmaw Bay by F.G. Cottam

2011-11-22T20:12:00.000Z

Brodmaw Bay (2011) by F.G. Cottam

I had been looking forward to the release of Brodmaw Bay for a very long time - I added the title to my Goodreads shelves in March, and have been anxiously awaiting it ever since. My expectations were high, and I have to admit that when I saw the cover design, I was a little disappointed; it lacks the beautiful artwork and lettering that decorated the author's previous novels, and this led me to worry that it would be less subtle, and more of a gory horror story than the chilling, slow-burning and tense paranormal tales I have come to know and love. When the book arrived, I dropped everything to read it and raced through it in a matter of days, and I'm pleased to report that it was anything but a letdown.

James and Lillian Greer, and their children Jack and Olivia, appear at first glance to be the family that has it all. Two successful, wealthy and happily married parents with two good-looking, intelligent and confident children, they live an ostensibly perfect life in a beautiful London townhouse. But their idyllic life isn't what it seems, and there are cracks beneath the surface. At the beginning of the story, James is visiting his son in hospital - Jack has been brutally beaten by a gang of boys on the bus home from school, and this event proves to be the catalyst that begins to tear the family apart and leads to James becoming convinced their tight-knit bonds can only be salvaged through an escape from London. While in the hospital, James picks up an illustrated children's book called Brodmaw Bay, filled with beautiful paintings of the titular seaside village which he is convinced are the work of his artist wife. Lily, however, has no memory of visiting the bay or creating the illustrations. This is followed by a series of other odd incidents which seem to push the Greer family more and more towards investigating Brodmaw Bay, until they start to believe a move there is both fated and inevitable...

At first, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to think of James, who comes out with opinions that, at times, seem straight out of the pages of the Daily Mail after Jack is beaten up. But this is tempered by sections written from the other characters' points of view and it soon becomes apparent that the point is that the characters are flawed; this is precisely how they come to be 'lured' to Brodmaw. James, for all his liberal pretensions, has a knee-jerk, reactionary response to his son's attack; but he is a loving and devoted family man, and while Lily is more reasonable and perhaps more optimistic in her overall outlook, she's hiding a potentially destructive secret from her husband and children, and has her own reasons for wanting to flee London. The characters are a good balance - they're flawed enough that you can understand how they're drawn to the bay, but essentially sympathetic enough that you're on their side even though they might have made some serious mistakes. The village itself is a fascinating place which will have you eagerly turning the pages to learn more - the details, from the desecrated church to the young, empty-eyed ghost to the eccentric locals, are spooky, convincing and totally bewitching.

My only real complaint about this story is that I wanted MORE! More about the village and its strange traditions, more about the residents of Brodmaw and their undoubtedly fascinating histories, more about the nature and origins of the Singers and the Harbingers, and especially more about the Penmarricks. I wished there could've been another couple of hundred pages about the Greers' life in the bay before things started to get really weird. In fact, for me personally, the book could have been twice its length, and I would still have lapped it up. However, I know this would probably have been offputting for a lot of readers, especially those new to the author, so I can understand why the book doesn't go over the top with its detail. Arguably, it's better this way; your imagination can fill in the gaps.

While it hasn't displaced Dark Echo as my personal favourite of the author's work (but I don't think anything ever will because, as I've said before, that book holds a very special place in my heart), Brodmaw Bay is even better than last year's The Waiting Room and deserves to draw in a whole new audience. It has shades of truly classic ghost stories, such as those by M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe, and I would also enthusiastically recommend it to anyone who loves the classic horror film The Wicker Man. It's a perfect winter read, released just in time for those dark, foggy evenings; I probably read the book a bit too quickly, due to my excitement over it finally being released, so my advice to other readers is to savour every page!

Rating: 9/10

Slippers x shoes

2011-11-21T20:44:00.001Z

I finally found some slipper-loafer-shoe things to suit my budget! These ('Slip On Suedette Loafer') are £15.99 from New Look and come in black and red (apparently - I haven't spotted the red, and if I did I would almost certainly get those as well). I haven't bought much recently but these have really perked up my wardrobe (shoe wardrobe?) and they're so comfortable too. (NB: this does not mean I don't still want these.)

Book review: A Kind of Intimacy by Jenn Ashworth

2011-11-15T19:59:00.001Z

A Kind of Intimacy (2009) by Jenn Ashworth

This deliciously creepy and insinuating novel, Jenn Ashworth's debut, is the story of Annie Fairhurst - as told by this fascinating, contradictory and wholly unreliable character herself. We meet Annie, who is seriously overweight and struggles to interact with others, as she moves - alone - into a new neighbourhood. At first Annie seems to be a fairly ordinary, if rather sad, character. She is lonely, with no family, and appears to have a traumatic past; she is desperate to make friends with her new neighbours, but is completely misguided in how she goes about this, relying heavily on the clichéd and outdated advice of self-help books. She also develops an infatuation with the man next door, Neil - who has a beautiful young girlfriend - almost immediately. But very quickly, it becomes apparent that Annie is unbalanced and her account cannot be trusted. As her crush on Neil grows into an obsession, and she becomes convinced of a dangerous rivalry with his girlfriend Lucy, Annie's behaviour spirals into a series of increasingly bizarre incidents - all seen through the warped lens of her own disturbed mind.

There were points when I did wonder if the plot could have been more subtle. I think, for example, the story might have worked better if Ashworth had established Annie as an honest, trustworthy and likeable character and revealed her true nature at a slower pace; if she had played with the reader's perceptions more. Instead, the reader knows within the first couple of chapters that Annie is both disturbed and dishonest. But the method of delivery is effective, as the protagonist intermittently delves into scenes from her past that gradually allow her audience to piece together the reasons for her present situation. It must have taken tremendous effort to maintain the style throughout - relating everything in Annie's distinctive voice, so naive and out of touch with her surroundings yet so subtly menacing, while also clearly communicating the reality of each incident to the reader. There are shocking developments - the seedy secrets of Annie's past could easily seem bizarrely out of sync with her delusions about Neil and Lucy's relationship - but somehow, in context, these work, perhaps because for most of the book Ashworth manages to balance Annie's madness and her humanity with enviable skill.

While Annie can't exactly be called a sympathetic character - her deviance is hinted at too heavily from the very beginning - the power of Ashworth's writing lies in the way she's taken traits many lonely people will identify with and exaggerated them to a wince-inducing degree. The modification and embellishment of one's past during conversations; the disproportionate emphasis placed on small encounters with someone you find attractive; the over-enthusiastic celebration of new potential friendships; the descent from healthy eating, to microwave meals, to piles of snacks eaten in bed. While it's difficult to like Annie, it's equally impossible not to feel sorry for her and, at points, to feel like you're on her side. This is emphasised by the fact that there are many shades of grey in the earlier half of the novel - Annie is not 'bad' and the other characters 'good'. Lucy isn't likeable, and is unpleasant towards Annie from the beginning for no reason other than her weight and the fact that she doesn't immediately fit in - which of us that's ever felt 'different' can't identify with that? Sangita does seem two-faced, Raymond is horrible and Will is boring and suffocating. None of this excuses Annie's eventual actions or explains her distorted perspective, but it does help to portray her as a painfully human character.

A Kind of Intimacy is an ideal companion piece to one of my favourite books of the year - Ross Raisin's God's Own Country - and in many ways, Annie is the female equivalent of Raisin's Sam Marsdyke. Both books start out as a portrayal of a lonely, isolated young person with a murky past and a suggested history of violence; both see said character developing an obsessive and delusional infatuation with a neighbour; both build to a quite terrifying climax, and end... similarly (to say more would spoil things for those planning to read either book). I'm certainly glad I read this after Ashworth's inferior sophomore novel, Cold Light - if I'd read A Kind of Intimacy first, my expectations would have been sky-high for any follow-up. This book has its flaws (it occasionally flounders slightly), but it's extraordinarily powerful and darkly funny throughout, and so much of the story has really stuck in my head since I finished it. A worthy addition to my collection of favourite unreliable narrators.

Rating: 8/10

Topshop top picks

2011-11-13T19:39:00.000Z

Topshop's clothes really aren't doing it for me at the moment. Don't get me wrong, they have some beautiful items in their latest collections, and the general aesthetic (all that black and burgundy, animal print and leather, velvet and sequins) makes me swoon every time I walk in. The thing is, though - and I am going to sound like an embittered, whiny old woman here, but whatever - all of it looks like it's made for somebody about ten years younger and three stone lighter than me; basically, a rail-thin teenager. Which, to be fair, is probably the case. I feel like I finally am actually too old for Topshop (except the pencil skirts, and maybe some of the coats).

The shoes and accessories, on the other hand... I WANT THEM ALL. The gold-heeled boots (sadly out of stock on the website) almost made me gasp aloud when I saw them in store! I've been trying very hard not to buy the dalmatian slippers for weeks - there are so many beautiful loafers in at the moment, and some pretty perfect courts for work too. I've spotted several gorgeous bags and purses lately (not planning to replace my old faithful bag - which, btw, is from Topshop and has been going strong for over a year of daily use now! - or purse, though) and the jewellery has generally been on fire for months. I've got my eye on these bangles to complement my Christmas party outfits, and I might pick up a bargain barbed wire ring while I'm at it.

Book review: Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

2011-11-10T22:54:00.001Z

Ready Player One (2011) by Ernest Cline

I'm an idiot. I spent the whole of October working through a pile of supposedly 'light' books which often turned out to be anything but. Meanwhile, I'd been avoiding this, an almost-400-page novel about videogames (a subject I know next to nothing about and have never been much into) because, despite having heard very good things, I wasn't convinced it'd be to my taste. It turned out to be exactly what I'd been after for the past month - light and fluffy, incredibly readable, and fantastic fun.

The story is set in 2044. The real world is a mess: poverty, unemployment and drug addiction are widespread. The majority of people spend most of their time in the OASIS, a hybrid of a virtual reality simulation and an online multiplayer game, invented some years before by a pair of game programmers, James Halliday and Ogden Morrow. Halliday is now dead, but prior to his death he recorded a video message bequeathing his multi-billion-dollar fortune to anyone who can solve a number of clues and riddles he has programmed into the OASIS. 18-year-old Wade Watts, the protagonist and narrator, is one of the many thousands of OASIS users determined to attain this prize - they're known as 'gunters', short for 'Easter egg hunters', the prize being considered the ultimate videogame Easter egg. The twist is that Halliday had a lifelong obsession with the 1980s pop culture of his own youth, and so the clues, along with many of the numerous worlds within the OASIS, are focused entirely on said culture. This makes for a slew of references to 80s films and TV, music and, of course, games.

Familiarity with the cultural references would, I'm sure, enhance anyone's enjoyment of this book; I vaguely understood, rather than really 'got', most of them, but this wasn't particularly a problem. Regardless of whether you share the characters' (and, presumably, the author's) all-consuming obsession with the 80s, this is a wonderfully enjoyable adventure. In my eyes, it's primarily driven by its plot and characters, and is more of a traditional 'quest' kind of story than a meaningful vision of the future. I'm not sure I can see something like the OASIS becoming an integral part of life within the next few decades, although the idea of individuals' online lives increasingly taking precedence over their 'real' existence is more recognisable. In fact, all the meaningful relationships in Wade's life take place in the virtual world - he has never met his best friend, Aech, or the girl he has a crush on, Art3mis, and they only know him as his avatar, Parzival. Thankfully, despite all this online-only interaction, the book's portrayal of friendship and love is powerful and touching.

My only real problem with the story was the idea of Wade/Parzival, Art3mis et al being SO well-versed in every single piece of pop cultue from Halliday's entire life. No matter how much time they spent in the OASIS, these teenagers had to get an education, eat and sleep, and I just didn't see how it was physically possible for them to have amassed such knowledge (and to have remembered it all!) at such a young age. Wade mentions having watched certain 80s films over a hundred times, memorising the dialogue and actions of the characters. Alongside reading all of Halliday's favourite books and comics and playing endless videogames until he knew them by heart, how could he ever have had the time to accomplish this within the few years he'd been a gunter?!

Nevertheless, this is a minor concern, and after all this is a fun fantasy novel; it won't work if you take it too seriously. The language can be a bit annoying, but slang and abbreviations work much better here - many of the conversations are conducted via chatrooms - than they would in most fiction, since the context almost demands them. Ready Player One is everything an adventure novel should be: fantastical, exciting, involving and moving, complete with a great, heartwarming ending. It also conveys a rather unexpected, but very pleasing, message of equality. It's bound to be a big success, and I wouldn't be surprised if there's a sequel; if there is, I will happily read it. This was precisely what I needed after a long run of average and/or harrowing books - it was the most fun I've had reading in ages.

Rating: 8/10

Reading round-up: October

2011-11-07T23:42:00.000Z

Here we go again - without further ado...

72. Mr Fox by Helen Oyeyemi - 6/10 (full review). Typical of the author's work, this is very avant-garde fiction depicting a battle of wits between two characters - one of them imaginary - through the medium of short stories. Interesting, but it doesn't quite come together in the end.
73. The Ghost by Robert Harris - 7/10 (full review). A fairly run-of-the-mill suspenseful mystery made more interesting by its tense atmosphere and overt allusions to Tony Blair's political career.
74. Like Bees To Honey by Caroline Smailes - 7/10 (full review). Difficult to describe, this is an exploration of loss, love and family ties set in a magical version of Malta inhabited by various ghosts. Funny and touching, though a little overwrought at points.
75. The Crossing Places by Elly Griffiths - 6/10 (full review). This is a gripping crime thriller with an excellent cast of characters, especially the protagonist Dr Ruth Galloway, but I was really disappointed by the generic plot.
76. The Lantern by Deborah Lawrenson - 7/10 (full review). An homage to/pastiche of Rebecca, this is a cross between a gothic mystery and a romance. Unoriginal and a little underdeveloped, but absorbing and evocative.
77. I, Partridge: We Need To Talk About Alan by Alan Partridge - 6/10 (full review). Pretty much exactly what you'd expect - a must-read for Partridge fans, it's very funny in places and the tone of voice is great, but it does get a bit tiresome after a while.
78. Blacklands by Belinda Bauer - 6/10 (full review). Another crime thriller, this time focusing on a young boy who starts writing letters to the serial killer who may have murdered his uncle. The characters' viewpoints are portrayed effectively, but the plot never quite feels like it gets going properly.
79. The Lake of Dreams by Kim Edwards - 4/10 (full review). A story of family secrets and tangled relationships that's dragged down by boring characters, a slow-moving plot and poor dialogue.
80. Isis by Douglas Clegg - 6/10 (full review). An atmospheric period ghost story, beautifully written but much too brief - more like a cautionary fairytale.
81. Imperium by Robert Harris - 8/10 (full review). Far more factual and educational than I expected, this is a well-crafted, gripping fictionalised account of the life of Roman statesman Cicero.
82. Affinity by Sarah Waters - 7/10 (full review). The tale of an unhappy woman who becomes a prison visitor and her obsession with a prisoner who may have paranormal powers. Brilliant but extremely depressing, and I guessed the twist.

This was the first time I've introduced what could be a called a 'theme' to the month's reading, which - with the exception of Mr Fox, which I started in September anyway - was to use it to get through a whole batch of what I can't help but keep thinking of as 'lightweight' books; ie genre, as opposed to literary, fiction. This was a good opportunity to clear out a backlog of 'maybe I'll read this... one day' titles from my Kindle (in addition to the books listed above there were several I began and discarded after a few pages), but it wasn't as fun as I initially thought it would be. Quick and easy reads are all very well, but after a long run of mostly average books, I found myself deseperate to get back to stories with more substance and less predictable plots. The highlight was Imperium, which was completely different from what I expected but very good and actually taught me quite a bit about Roman politics. The closest thing to a 'guilty pleasure' I got out of this month's reading was The Lantern.

I don't really have a plan for November, although I would like to read a couple more of the Booker nominees. And the new F.G. Cottam, Brodmaw Bay, comes out on the 10th, obviously a matter of great excitement to me (although I really don't like the cover at all, which is making me apprehensive about it). In December I think I'm going to re-read some old favourites.

As ever, please feel free to a) add me on Goodreads and/or b) discuss your recent, current or future reads in the comments!

The Month of Lightweight Books, pt. 2

2011-11-02T23:41:00.000Z

Here's another bumper compilation of reviews to round off October. I must say, I haven't had much success with this month's reading and I'm rather glad to see the back of it. My 'lightweight' books of choice have either been a) distinctly average or b) not actually that lightweight, and The Lantern was my only real guilty-pleasure-type read. On to bigger and better books (I hope) for November! As ever, full versions of the reviews are over at Goodreads.

The Lake of Dreams (2011) by Kim Edwards

The story: After her father's death when she was a teenager, Lucy Jarrett left her hometown behind to go to university and travel the world. Now 29 and living in Japan with her boyfriend, Yoshi, Lucy receives news of her mother suffering an accident which prompts her to return to her family in America. There, she discovers a package of old pamphlets and letters hidden beneath a window seat. These contain mysterious clues that lead Lucy to investigate her family history, uncovering the existence of an ancestor she never knew she had, and helping her to re-examine her relationships with those she loves in the process.

The verdict: I didn't expect this book to be anything amazing, but I do usually enjoy these tales of lost letters and family secrets, and I thought the story had a lot of promise at the beginning. The first chapter presented an enchanting depiction of Lucy's life in Japan which drew me in and set the scene beautifully - or so I thought. But once Lucy returned to America, it quickly became obvious that the whole book was going to be overloaded with whimsy. The title, The Lake of Dreams, is actually the name of the town at the centre of the story (yes, really). It's a completely unrealistic place, with the main attractions being a ludicrously popular glassblowing factory at which crowds of people clamour for demonstrations, and a constantly packed, stunningly modern vegetarian restaurant. Also, a key character, Lucy's former high school sweetheart, is named Keegan Fall. I could not take this character seriously, nor the exceptionally contrived romantic elements. On top of that, there are numerous faults in the construction of the narrative: stilted dialogue, endless repetition of certain phrases and sentence patterns, action that seems to drag on for chapters and then suddenly moves forward at a literally unbelievable pace, and notable inconsistencies (my favourite being when the proprietor of the aforementioned vegetarian restaurant brings TURKEY sandwiches, specifically described as being from the restaurant, to a party).
There's little here to really recommend this book, apart from the fact that one major element of the plot gave me a pleasant surprise by not taking the obvious route. I really did have faith that the story was going to gather steam at some point, but instead it just plodded along with far too much meandering off in various directions - it seemed like the author had been unable to decide whether this was a story about Lucy's ancestor Rose and her involvement in the suffragette movement, or Lucy herself and her issues with her father's death. By the time the last few chapters delivered what I suppose were meant to be shocking twists, I didn't care what happened, and was just glad to get it over with.

Rating: 4/10

Isis (2006) by Douglas Clegg

The story: Loosely based on the Ancient Egyptian myth of Isis and Osiris, this is a very short book (a short story, really) containing a creepy, symbolic tale of the supernatural. Iris Villiers, a young woman in (I think) Victorian England, is the protagonist and narrator. She lives a miserable life in her parents' imposing Cornwall home; her father absent, her mother drunk, two of her three brothers constantly teasing her. Her only respite from this depressing existence is her third brother, Harvey, with whom she shares an unusually close relationship. However, disaster strikes when a terrible accident occurs, and Iris is driven to take matters into her own hands, armed with local legends related by the old gardener and her grandfather's collection of occult books.

The verdict: This little book is very well-written and creates a wonderfully spooky atmosphere which brought to mind Susan Hill's similarly brief ghost stories, particularly The Woman in Black. I think my favourite details were the scary tales told to Iris by Marsh, the gardener. Like most stories of this genre, it's an ideal read for a dark, stormy night; but it's unsurprisingly lacking in detail and after the pivotal event of the plot occurs, it feels very rushed. I also disliked Iris and found her hatred of the governess childish given that she's a teenager, not a little girl. I could have done without the denouncement of said governess as a 'harlot' and all the stuff about evil women luring men to their doom, too, though I am guessing this was meant to be a reflection of Iris's jealousy. Finally, the illustrations: these may have added enjoyment to the book for some readers, and it's true that with the story being so short, there's a need for something to flesh out the pages. But I thought they were very kitsch, and old-fashioned in the worst way. Isis is worth the short amount of time it takes to read it, and if you're looking for a quick, spine-chilling read as the nights begin to draw in, it's a perfect fit. It's insubstantial, though, and would work better as part of an anthology of short stories.

Rating: 6/10

Imperium (2006) by Robert Harris

The story: The first of a trilogy, Imperium stays close to what is known of real-life events in the life of Roman lawyer and statesman Cicero. The tale is narrated by Cicero's trusted secretary, Tiro, whose voice gives the book a welcome warmth and allows for personal observations which really bring the story to life. This volume is an account of Cicero's ascent to power as consul of Rome, a journey fraught with backstabbing, vituperation and several uneasy alliances, and peppered with appearances by a great number of significant historical figures, notably Pompey, Crassus and a young Caesar.

The verdict: This book's Roman setting appealed to me, but due to my familiarity with Robert Harris's work, I did expect it to be light and easy to read, and probably heavily embellished. In actual fact, it's really quite a serious novel - lengthy, detailed and impeccably well-researched. Political intrigue is constantly bubbling under, and in fact there is little else to the story; there's virtually no sex and only a handful of violent scenes. Reading this so soon after Harris's contemporary thriller The Ghost, I couldn't help but notice the very modern spin Harris has put on the political affairs of the time, for example an attack by a group of pirates being likened to modern-day terrorism. Like the Tony Blair-esque Adam Lang in The Ghost, Cicero himself has echoes of New Labour; while a 'man of the people' who is derided by the aristocrats because of his comparatively humble birth and support for wider democracy, he is chiefly a fiercely ambitious individual. Determined to achieve supreme political power - the 'imperium' of the title - at any cost, he is perfectly prepared to make alliances with his bitterest enemies and support undemocratic decisions.
Because the book is necessarily written in a modern style, there are points when it seems a little inauthentic, for all its attention to historical detail, while at times the opposite is true, with lengthy factual descriptions making the narrative feel a little too dry. For most of the book, though, Harris balances fact and fiction effectively, bringing Rome to life with evocative, but restrained, prose. Vivid and absorbing, this novel not only held my attention, but also made me feel I'd learned quite a lot about this particular period in history, and about how Roman democracy operated. It's not always a page-turner, and may not appeal to everyone who has enjoyed Harris's contemporary fiction. However, I really enjoyed spending time in the company of Tiro and Cicero, and while I don't feel compelled to begin the second book of the trilogy - Lustrum - immediately, I will definitely be picking it up at some point in the future.

Rating: 8/10

Affinity (1999) by Sarah Waters

The story: Nearing thirty, unmarried, and recovering from a series of difficult and upsetting events including the death of her beloved father, lonely Margaret Prior takes up the duties of a 'lady visitor' at London's Millbank prison. Assigned to visit, speak with and offer companionship to the female prisoners, she finds herself developing a particular affection for one inmate - Selina Dawes, an alleged medium imprisoned for fraud and assault. At first, Margaret's visits are focused on exploring the unfamiliar environment of the prison and meeting the women incarcerated there, as a distraction from her dull and unhappy home life. Her diary makes up the majority of the narrative, intercut with extracts from Selina's earlier journal recounting the events that led to her imprisonment. But as Margaret's friendship with Selina blossoms and she begins to feel increasingly alienated elsewhere, Millbank becomes the centre of her world, a growing obsession.

The verdict: I have read two of Waters' other novels: Fingersmith and The Little Stranger (a personal all-time favourite). While Affinity shares supernatural and psychological themes with the latter, it has far greater similiarities with the former: two female protagonists who take turns narrating the story, and a parade of unpleasant minor characters; a burgeoning lesbian romance, full of suppressed emotion and dull erotic charge; a heavy atmosphere of doom and dread; a series of dreary, depressing settings, from Millbank's cells to the foggy streets of London and Margaret's stifling existence at home. Like the heroines of Fingersmith, Margaret and Selina are both thoroughly trapped - Selina, obviously, by her imprisonment, and Margaret by the expectations of society, her family and her sexuality, as well as the illness she cannot name (depression). Treated with sedatives and opiates, which she becomes increasingly dependent upon as the story progresses, Margaret descends into a private, obsessive madness in which the mysteries of Selina's spirit world become very real to her. Selina, meanwhile, remains a more enigmatic character, with her journal conspicuously lacking in emotion. The story builds tension very slowly, and at points seems to drag, only resolving itself into a revelatory plot twist towards the end. I have to say, I did see this coming: if you have your doubts about certain elements of the plot, it's fairly easy to work out the nature, if not the exact details, of the twist. I do think Waters is a brilliant writer, and I can't fault her wonderfully authentic recreation of a Victorian narrative here. However, as much as the story was compelling and held my interest, it didn't come close to matching the page-turning intensity of Fingersmith, or the brilliant creeping tension of The Little Stranger, and it was extremely bleak throughout. While it's worth reading, I wouldn't recommend this as a starting point for newcomers to the author's work.

Rating: 7/10

High-Rise (1975) by JG Ballard

The story: High-Rise is set completely within a huge, self-contained tower block containing not only apartments, but also a supermarket, amenities such as a gym and swimming pool, even a junior school. The inhabitants of the block can live their lives largely within this one building; the initial protagonist, Dr Robert Laing, works a five-minute drive away, and other than that rarely leaves, socialising only with his immediate neighbours. However, the book's opening makes it clear that this supposedly utopian micro-society is doomed to failure, and the story goes on to catalogue its rapid, anarchic downfall.

The verdict: I picked this at random from a load of books I'd downloaded onto my Kindle - simply because I had no idea what to read next, it's fairly short, and the first page really grabbed my attention (there's a great opening sentence). The story is allegorical in a very obvious way, with the tower block representing a class system: the penthouse apartment is occupied by the co-designer of the scheme, the unsubtly-monikered Anthony Royal; the middle-class residents live, obviously, in the middle section of the building; and the least affluent are on the bottom ten floors. As the story progresses, the divisions become more marked, and the residents begin to split into tribes. Parties start to get out of control, there are physical attacks, the population of the high-rise becomes increasingly insular, and life in the block begins to degenerate into a surreal nightmare. It's not subtle, but I have always really enjoyed this type of postmodern social parable, and this is a particularly vivid example of the genre due to its disturbing intensity and the surreal, chaotic depths the characters reach. However, I never really connected with the characters and felt as if I was at a distance from them; I'm not sure how this could possibly have been remedied as the story would hardly have worked had it been filled with likeable characters, but nevertheless, this was a barrier to my enjoyment. The book was first published in 1975, and it shows - something indefinable about the prose feels dated, although the prescience of the plot's message is pretty striking when you consider it was written well before the excesses and class conflicts of the 1980s. It's either a misanthrope's dream or a misanthrope's worst nightmares about humanity brought to life, I'm not sure which (perhaps they're the same thing). A quick, discomfiting read which I certainly found thought-provoking, but the overall tone fell a little flat for me.

Rating: 6/10 (I am kind of cheating by including this, as I finished it today, so it wasn't an October book. But since it's a short book and a short review, I thought it would be better off here than being the subject of a whole new post!)

Fringe benefits

2011-10-30T19:19:00.000Z

If I have a fringe cut into my hair, it'll make me look exactly like an amalgamation of the following, right?

Yes I definitely will? Great stuff, glad we got that cleared up.

(... and if you think the title's bad, be thankful I didn't go with 'she bangs, she bangs'.)

The Month of Lightweight Books, pt. 1

2011-10-23T00:07:00.002+01:00

For the past few months I've been reading a lot of literary fiction, so I've decided to use the month of October to get through some of the more 'lightweight' books on my to-read list. It's my theme for the month, if you like. I'm only allowed to read genre fiction and short books and I might even (SHOCK!) read some chick lit (although I have to say I've tried to start a couple so far and no dice, I can't get into them). These are more likely to be books I'll read quite quickly, however, so I don't want to post every single review here separately or they will CONSUME my blog. Here are some edited versions - the full versions are all at my Goodreads account, of course.

The Ghost (2007) by Robert Harris

The story: Famous for being a roman à clef about the life of Tony Blair following his tenure as prime minister, The Ghost is told from the perspective of a nameless ghostwriter who is drafted in to edit the memoirs of the Blair figure, ex-PM Adam Lang, after the apparent suicide of an aide who was assisting with the book. Lang is holed up in a mansion in Martha's Vineyard, surrounded by security and a host of associates, including both his wife and his mistress. After Lang is accused of being involved in an illegal operation to imprison suspected terrorists in Guantanamo Bay, the narrator is pushed to work quickly on the book, and soon uncovers evidence to suggest his predecessor's death may not have been suicide after all...

The verdict: In terms of plot and style, The Ghost was pretty much a standard thriller. What elevated it above the rest, and spurred my interest, was the fact that Harris was once close to Blair and they had a high-profile falling out, so it can be assumed that there's a fair amount of truth in this depiction. 'The ghost' was necessarily anonymous, but unfortunately the lack of a name or background didn't help in making him someone I could believe in and/or root for. I know Harris can write engaging, likeable, human heroes - after all, he created Fluke Kelso in Archangel, one of my favourite books of all time - but this guy wasn't one of them. He made some obnoxious observations (comparing bad conditions in an airport to the Holocaust, really?) and used a few too many daft similes, and although I didn't hate the character, I can't say I felt fully invested in his plight either. With everyone else in the story seeming to be either power-crazed or a complete liar (or both), and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the first half of the book, The Ghost had a tense but gloomy feel, full of dread and foreboding. After the narrator eventually left the isolated mansion, the pace picked up and I got through the rest of the book pretty quickly.
I didn't expect The Ghost to be a truly amazing read and it delivered more or less exactly what I expected - a gripping, if not brilliantly written, thriller that held my attention, didn't tax the brain too much, and didn't require any emotional involvement. It's certainly worth reading and I'd recommend it if you've got a flight or long train journey coming up, but if you want the author's best work, this isn't it. (Archangel is).

Rating: 7/10

Like Bees To Honey (2010) by Caroline Smailes

The story: This is the tale of Nina; born and brought up in Malta, she moved to England as a teenager and was disowned by her family for getting pregnant by, and then marrying, an English man, Matt. At the beginning of the book, Nina is travelling back to Malta to face a reunion with her parents, accompanied by her teenage son, Christopher. However, all is not as it seems with Nina's journey, nor her destination. There is a supernatural element to the story, as the Malta of Like Bees To Honey is shown to be a magnet for wandering spirits, while Nina has the ability to communicate with them. The tale that follows is an exploration of loss, identity and faith, as Nina attempts to come to terms with the losses she has endured and struggles to maintain her religious beliefs in the face of personal anguish. The book is predominantly about Nina's emotional journey, interwoven with touches of fantasy and magic.

The verdict: The rather twee cover and title of Like Bees To Honey do it something of a disservice. If it hadn't been for a) a few good reviews I'd read and b) the setting of Malta (which holds a special place in my heart), I'd probably have passed over this, assuming it would be very lightweight and overly sentimental. In fact, this original and unusual novel turned out to be unlike anything else I've read. The writing was unique, very lyrical and emotive, but with a constant undercurrent of sly humour. Nina's narrative (which makes up the majority of the book) did seem somewhat emotionally overwrought at times, but the vividly imagined comic details helped to balance it out. There was Jesus holding court in a seedy bar where he drinks endless pints of Cisk lager, paints his toenails and talks to the local spirits about Come Dine With Me, Simon Cowell and Paul O'Grady; Tilly, a lesbian ghost with anger management issues and a very distinctive voice; and John Lennon playing ghost gigs in the defunct St Julian's branch of TGI Friday's. The book was occasionally hampered by frequent repetition of onomatopoeic words and translations of Maltese phrases, which really wasn't necessary. However, it was easy enough to skip over these lines and if you get into the story, they're not going to get in the way of your enjoyment of it. While I didn't fall completely in love with this book - I could never quite connect with the character of Nina - it really surprised me by going in directions I didn't expect. I paid just 49p for the Kindle edition, and it was absolutely worth the money.

Rating: 7/10

The Crossing Places (2009) by Elly Griffiths

The story: The first in a series of mystery/thriller novels based around the character of forensic archaelogist Dr Ruth Galloway, this book begins with the disappearance of a child on the gloomy Norfolk coast, a case which seems to mirror that of a still-missing girl from ten years before. When a body is dug up, police suspect it's the first girl, but it turns out to be an Iron Age sacrifice, preserved by the peat. This finding brings Ruth into the investigation, and as events progress she finds herself closely involved in the hunt for the missing girls.

The verdict: A quick and easy read, this book's biggest asset was its main character. In Ruth Galloway, Elly Griffiths has created a protagonist who is clearly tailor-made to appeal to a certain type of female reader. She lives in an isolated house in the midst of a desolate, windswept landscape; she's happily single through her own choice; she loves cats but doesn't have/want children; she prefers to be on her own and makes concerted efforts to avoid her neighbours; she often shuns social events in favour of a good book. As a foil to Ruth, there was Harry Nelson, a no-nonsense, somewhat gruff police officer - a stereotype, but likeable all the same - and a great cast of supporting characters too. However, the story surrounding them was rather more standard fare: two missing children, a series of cryptic letters sent to taunt the police, bodies turning up in the Norfolk marshes, etc - without the archaeological detail, it would be a standard whodunnit. The book was written in present tense, which can work well in fiction, but sometimes seemed a bit clumsy here. If you've read a reasonably well-written crime novel before, there will be nothing in The Crossing Places to particularly surprise or excite you. It was competently put together and consistently engrossing, but contained a few irritating inconsistencies - it was hard to believe Ruth wouldn't be more alarmed about certain developments. Overall, while I enjoyed this book, I felt like something better could have been crafted around these characters and this wonderfully bleak setting.

Rating: 6/10

I, Partridge: We Need To Talk About Alan (2011) by Alan Partridge (ahem...)

There's probably not a great deal I can say about this, really; the fact that it's a spoof autobiography of a fictional comedy character tells you all you need to know. If you're a huge fan of Alan Partridge, you'll probably find it a very amusing read - if you're not, well, it's not going to be of much interest. The strongest point of the book was that the narrative captured Alan's voice brilliantly - I almost felt I could hear him speaking as I read it, and most of it would easily work as dialogue - but I kept having to take a break from it, as there was only so much of this I could take at any one time (it turns out you CAN have too much Partridge). Thankfully it's not just a rehash of material from the TV series, and it's quite obvious a lot of work has gone into making this book funny and original at the same time as staying true to what fans know of Alan's life, right down to the 'Forward Solutions' motivational seminars from Steve Coogan's 2009 live DVD. I did laugh out loud quite a bit, but some parts were a lot funnier than others, and at points I got fed up (not clinically, though) of reading it. This is a very amusing book and it's more than a let's-rush-this-out-in-time-for-Christmas job, but it's something I doubt I'm going to be reading again. My advice is to buy it now, read it (carefully) and pass it on to someone else for Christmas. I'm sure Alan would approve.

Rating: 6/10

Blacklands (2009) by Belinda Bauer

The story: The 'hero' of Blacklands is Steven Lamb, a young boy whose uncle, Billy, was murdered as a child nineteen years ago. He is convinced that if he can discover where Billy is buried, he will bring his family closer together and make his grandmother, who has never recovered from the loss, happy again. At first Steven spends his spare time digging his way across the surrounding Exmoor landscape, searching for bones, but after an English lesson in which he receives praise for his letter-writing style, he has a better idea - to write to Arnold Avery, the serial killer who was convicted of the assault and murder of several other children from the area (but never admitted to killing Billy) in prison. Switching between the viewpoints of Steven and Avery, the story charts the pair's correspondence as both become increasingly obsessed with what they might be able to discover.

The verdict: I was really interested in the concept of this book, but sadly, I found the execution pretty average. On the plus side, I was impressed by the way Bauer managed to capture the thoughts of her characters and create a real voice for them, all within a third-person omniscient narrative. Steven's chapters effectively conveyed his youth, innocence and naivety without becoming childish. Avery's chapters were handled well too; Bauer didn't shy away from portraying the killer's lack of remorse or his continuing lust for his child victims, even his arousal at the very idea of his crimes, and while this occasionally verged on being harrowing, it was helped by frequent, if brief, switches to the perspective of fellow inmates or prison wardens. Even minor characters were given a brief backstory, making some of the chapters feel almost like self-contained stories. However, although the book was well put together, it was all just a bit... drab. Steven's home life was portrayed as loveless and depressing, and although this was perhaps necessary for the reader to understand his obsession with Billy and motivation for contacting Avery, the characters of his mother and grandmother were very unsympathetic as a result. Blacklands is a short book, and like many short books, it could have done with a lot more detail and explanation; certain parts regarding Avery's actions were completely unrealistic. I felt as though this book was designed to be skimmed over and wouldn't stand up to much analysis or a re-reading.

Rating: 6/10

Book review: The Lantern by Deborah Lawrenson

2011-10-19T00:37:00.000+01:00

The Lantern (2011) by Deborah Lawrenson

Like so many of these modern gothic suspense novels, The Lantern has a split narrative and two narrators. In the present day, we have a naive young woman, known only by her nickname Eve; she leaves behind her life in London after a whirlwind affair with an older man, the enigmatic Dom, who whisks her away to a tumbledown Provence farmhouse named Les Genévriers. In a plot clearly modelled on that of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca (there's even a direct reference to Rebecca thrown in, just in case anyone's missed the blatant parallels), Eve becomes increasingly obsessed with uncovering the truth about Dom's first wife, Rachel - a subject he refuses to discuss. The second narrator is Bénédicte, also an inhabitant of Les Genévriers, albeit some years before Eve and Dom's arrival. An elderly woman who has lived in the house her whole life, she believes she is close to death, and is being visited by the spirits of her ancestors and siblings. Her chapters alternate between these 'hauntings' and Bénédicte's recollections of her childhood and later life. The two timelines come together when Eve, searching for a project to keep herself occupied, begins to research the life of Marthe Lincel, a blind perfumier from the local region who disappeared without a trace at the height of her success - and who was also Bénédicte's sister.

The book has numerous flaws. Eve is, for want of a better word, rather wet - by the halfway point of the book, I'd lost count of how many times she'd wimped out of actually asking Dom about something or had willingly accepted a one-sentence answer and left it at that (despite the fact that she spends the majority of her time pondering all the things he hasn't told her). You start to lose sympathy for her after this happens for the tenth time, and it's a rather tiresome way of setting up what is obviously bound to be a revelatory outburst from Dom. The characters lack depth, and almost all of them could do with a bit of fleshing out; in portraying Dom as a vague, ambiguous character who could be either good or bad, the author makes it difficult to care about what becomes of the protagonists' relationship either way. The description is frequently over-the-top in its enthusiastic depiction of the French countryside, and left me feeling like I'd overdosed on flowers.

So the plot isn't remotely original (the similarities to Rebecca make it pretty easy to work out what the key to the mystery surrounding Rachel is going to be...), the modern protagonists are irritating, and the prose is unncessarily florid. Why, then, am I giving it a positive review; why would I classify this as a book I liked? Well, as much as I found fault with it, I simply loved reading it. It grabbed my attention and wouldn't let go, and I raced through it, constantly desperate to know what would happen next. The levels of suspense were extraordinary given that the characters didn't particularly inspire enormous amounts of sympathy. And all the hyperbole at least meant all the settings were rendered in beautifully vivid style. I'm in two minds as to whether to classify this book as a 'guilty pleasure'; it's not really something I'd be embarrassed to admit I liked, but I do think it's fair to say that the amount I enjoyed it was out of proportion to how technically 'good' I thought it was.

The Lantern is evidence that a book can be completely derivative and still extremely enjoyable. Apart from the many allusions to Rebecca, the narrative style and structure will be familiar to anyone who habitually reads fiction of this genre: see also Kate Morton, Kate Mosse, Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale. Lawrenson (or, rather, her publisher) is obviously hoping this similarity will translate into comparable success, as evidenced by the fact of this being the author's first book to be published in the US. It deserves to sell just as well as its contemporaries, and it makes the perfect read for a lazy day - absorbing, tense and full of lush descriptive language. Lightweight (as befits my Month of Lightweight Books), but rather lovely.

Rating: 7/10

NB: This isn't the only book I've read since I last posted; in fact, there's been quite a few - I just haven't had time to keep up to writing about them, or indeed anything else, here... Old habits die hard. I'm going to do a round-up post soon!

Book review: Mr Fox by Helen Oyeyemi

2011-10-11T19:23:00.003+01:00

Mr Fox (2011) by Helen Oyeyemi

Having sampled Helen Oyeyemi's work before (I read her third novel, White is for Witching last year, and enjoyed it), I knew this book was going to be unconventional, and sure enough, it is. As writers of fairly mainstream fiction go, she is clearly an author who likes to 'think outside the box'. In White is for Witching, one of the four narrators was a house, another a girl addicted to consuming inedible materials. In Mr Fox, one of the protagonists (arguably the main character) is an imaginary muse, and the story weaves its way in and out of fiction and reality, exploring the connections between the two.

Mr Fox is about an American novelist called St John Fox, and his aforementioned muse, who takes the form of a beautiful British girl called Mary Foxe. St John enjoys killing off women in gruesome ways in his stories, and one day, Mary visits him with the intention of persuading him to stop. He is unwilling - insistent that fiction is only fiction, and has no connection to how people choose to behave in the real world - and what follows is a game between the two of them, as they tell stories that map out one another's fates, sometimes directly, sometimes obscurely. These short stories, which are inserted into the narrative as separate chapters, are mainly variations on legends and fairytales, and they vary from the straightforward and realistic to terrifying fantasy. Meanwhile, there is an ongoing narrative concerning St John's (real-life) marriage to Daphne, who suspects him of having an affair - and of course, his 'lover' is actually Mary. The actual and the fictional begin to overlap more and more as the story progresses, until it's difficult to tell which is which.

The book is about - and named after - St John Fox, but it's Mary who emerges as the central character. Of course, she's a figment of St John's imagination, so it could be argued that she is simply a facet of his character. There are points when she appears to be a product of Daphne's insecurities, too, becoming more physically similar to Daphne as the latter finds her confidence growing towards the end of the book. But Mary is fleshed out far more than the two 'real' characters; often the focus or the narrator of the short stories, she is given a distinct personality which the reader is encouraged to identify with. She is likeable and human, in contrast to both St John (a classic chauvinist) and Daphne (rather dull and stupid), though they all have their own recognisable, cleverly written voices. The stories themselves are largely avant-garde and sometimes threaten to tip over into self-indulgence. One - in which the characters are referred to as Blue and Brown - reminded me so much of Paul Auster's The New York Trilogy that I can only assume it's intended as an homage. In others, Oyeyemi reworks the old folk tale of Bluebeard, much as Angela Carter did (better) in her superlative collection The Bloody Chamber. The longest story, 'What Happens Next', is clearly evocative of the tale that gives Carter's book its title.

I liked the message of the novel - that violence against women in fictional contexts validates its use in reality, and that the creators of these fictions ought to take responsibility for the consequences of their work. But because the narrative is so broken up, it's difficult for the story to resolve itself into a cohesive whole, and it's ultimately unsatisfying. The message, which is so dominant in the stories and Mary's admonishment of St John, is lost towards the end, sidelined in favour of the comparatively tedious exploration of St John and Daphne's marriage. For me, the book would have worked better simply as a series of short stories, or as a pure battle of wits between St John and Mary, with the marriage plotline left out. Mr Fox tries to be two things at once - a story about the realities of love, and a series of fantastical, mind-bending tales - and although it manages to bring elements of both together quite eloquently in places, for example the significance of stories in resolving the problems between St John and Daphne, it doesn't quite succeed fully in either.

Rating: 6/10

Love power

2011-10-10T21:25:00.000+01:00

Last week saw the launch of an online jewellery shop I've been excited about for MONTHS - Bad Passion, the sister site of This Charming Girl. I've always admired This Charming Girl, but vintage-inspired, girly styles really don't suit me - which is why I was so excited to learn about Bad Passion, which has a much more rock 'n' roll vibe.

I know jewellery stores are ten a penny on the internet now, but I find so many of them to be poorly put together, rushed and overpriced. I'm also sick of seeing supposedly unique, 'handmade' jewellery that's clealy about as handmade as a bracelet in Primark and almost as widely available. With Bad Passion you really get the feeling that thought has actually gone into cherry-picking the products, rather than that sense of 'people will buy this, so it'll do' that pervades so many 'shops' out there. There's a definite overarching style to the selections, which means that if you like one thing, you're probably going to like almost all of it.

I've just highlighted a few of my favourites above... shown in the picture are: Eagle Claw necklace, Crow Skull necklace, Crow Skull ring, Tiger earrings, Leather friendship bracelet, Dreamcatcher necklace. I think it's a dead heat between the eagle claw necklace and the crow skull ring/necklace for my favourite piece - I also love the tiger earrings, but my ears aren't pierced so I'll just have to admire them from afar. Also, the Double Leopard collar necklace is amazing. I could never pull it off but imagine how fantastic it'd look with a velvet evening dress... swoon.

If you're into statement jewellery, Bad Passion deserves to be added to your favourites. Definitely one to watch!

PS: I was trying to think of a title that didn't include some sort of pun on 'bad romance', and that's what I came up with. I was thinking of this...

Reading round-up: September

2011-10-06T23:03:00.002+01:00

A little summary of this month's books, as per tradition...

66. The Stranger's Child by Alan Hollinghurst - 8/10 (full review). A slow-burning, but rich and rewarding family saga spanning almost a century, this will definitely appeal to fans of Brideshead Revisited.
67. God's Own Country by Ross Raisin - 10/10 (full review). A simply brilliant book with a completely unique, funny and shocking narrative voice. Farmer's son Sam Marsdyke relates the story of his infatuation with a new neighbour's daughter, building effectively to a terrifying climax.
68. Cold Light by Jenn Ashworth - 6/10 (full review). Part coming-of-age story and part murder mystery, this novel slowly uncovers the truth behind an apparent suicide pact between a schoolgirl and her older boyfriend, told partly in flashbacks from the perspective of the girl's best friend.
69. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern - 7/10 (full review). The most-hyped book of the month, this tale of two rival magicians' apprentices falling in love against the backdrop of a fantastical travelling circus is pure escapism.
69½. Incubus by Carol Goodman - ABANDONED (a bit more detail). A 'paranormal romance' from the author of several very good gothic mysteries, this was just terrible in every way and SO cringeworthy - a big letdown.
70. The Blue Book by A.L. Kennedy - 6/10 (full review). While wonderfully written in truly beautiful prose, this story of middle-aged emotional angst set on board a cruise ship is frustrating in parts and lacking in plot.
71. The Legacy by Kirsten Tranter - 9/10 (full review). I couldn't help falling in love with this due to its similarities to a number of my favourite books, but the plot - regarding an Australian woman who disappears in New York on 9/11, and her friends' struggle to discover what became of her - is enthralling in its own right.

Quite a good month, given that I've been very busy with work. I'm already close to achieving my target of reading 75 books in 2011! However, I read a total of 25,435 pages in 2010, and I'm still some way off that this year (I've already read more books than I did in the whole of 2010... but obviously, last year, I was reading longer ones!)

I came across The Legacy by complete chance on Goodreads, which is something I seem to have been doing a lot lately - the happy by-product of browsing numerous strangers' profiles for interesting reviews! Next on my reading list is another random find, Like Bees To Honey by Caroline Smailes, a tale of loss and family secrets set in Malta, which I had to snap up when I saw the Kindle version was just 99p. But since work and life in general have been a bit stressful recently, I'm going to go for some light relief this month and read a few trashy thrillers.

Which books have you read and loved (or hated) this month? Has anyone managed to get their hands on the Alan Partridge autobiography? I really want to read it, but I kind of resent the idea of paying £9 for a silly comedy book!

Book review: The Legacy by Kirsten Tranter

2011-10-03T10:00:00.000+01:00

The Legacy (2010) by Kirsten Tranter

It's a little disconcerting that the plot summary on the jacket of The Legacy, and even the tagline on the cover ('what has happened to Ingrid?'), give away key points of the book's plot before you've even begun reading. The blurb describes this as a story about a young Australian woman, Ingrid, who goes missing in New York on 9/11, and the search undertaken by her two best friends, Julia (the narrator) and Ralph, to uncover the truth of what really happened to her. While it's true that this forms the centre of the story, 9/11 - and, therefore, Ingrid's disappearance - doesn't occur until almost 200 pages in. Additionally, the short prologue - the only part of the book narrated by Ingrid rather than Julia - lets the reader in on a secret the other characters are unaware of; that Ingrid's husband, Gil Grey, a much older art dealer, was physically abusive towards her. But prior to Ingrid's disappearance, the narrative concentrates on character-building: establishing the calm, intelligent, sometimes insecure voice of Julia, the background of the protagonists' friendship and family ties, and the love triangle between them.

The Legacy owes a significant debt to a number of other literary works. It's apparently based on The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James, which I can't comment much on as I haven't read it (though, on the basis of a brief description, I can see that the basic plot outline and character names in The Legacy are an obvious homage). The structure reminded me strongly of Brideshead Revisited - there's a much-longer-than-the-others Part One covering the trio's idyllic university days and Julia's infatuation with Ralph; Part Two involves a journey and a passionate affair; and Part Three sees the protagonists back in familiar places, though with circumstances much changed, and one character in particular conspicuous by their absence. The character of Ralph is very much like Brideshead's Sebastian, especially when the story touches on his drinking, poor health and erratic behaviour. The style, meanwhile, is a successful blend of two of my favourite modern books: the incredibly effective nostalgia of Part One, along with the exclusive friendship between Julia, Ralph and Ingrid, belongs to the elite collegiate atmosphere of Donna Tartt's The Secret History, while Part Two's depiction of the New York art scene is straight out of What I Loved. Tranter's writing has the same clear, evocative tone as both Tartt's and Hustvedt's prose. The magic is in small observations; occasional shocking events are described briskly in a realistic, no-frills style, and are all the more powerful for it.

There was so much I adored about The Legacy, but top of the list, I think, is Part One and its portrait of Julia, Ralph and Ingrid's days at university. This is a personal weakness, I know, but I found everything about it - from Julia's night shifts in the video shop, to wild drug-fuelled parties, to café rendezvous on rainy days - desperately romantic. There's a quote on the cover from The Guardian, describing the book as 'a seductive contemporary literary thriller'; which is true, but doesn't quite get to the heart of what's good about it, or why you should want to read it. Another review quoted is completely inaccurate, speaking of Tranter's 'gazillion-watt searchlight' (?) and mentioning that the book throws in 'a randy professor, a drugged-up fortune teller and a dominatrix' - actually very minor characters who have little to do with what happens. The story is in fact extremely understated and moves at a sedate (not slow) pace, treading carefully. For some readers, this may translate to 'dull', but for me, The Legacy has an unusually quiet brilliance.

The only problem was that I could never quite understand the mass obsession with Ingrid - why Ralph (who is not only her cousin, but also - as the narrative makes absolutely clear - gay) is in love with her; why Julia is beguiled by her despite the fact that she invades and upsets the balance of Julia and Ralph's close relationship, then abandons it; why the two of them, especially Julia, devote so much energy to digging into her past; why, as Julia says when researching Ingrid's life in New York, there was a need to 'always begin with the assumption that any man who knew her had probably been in love with her'. Tranter tells, rather than shows, the reader that Ingrid is irresistible to everyone she meets, and there is no real evidence to prove why this would be the case. Admittedly, it would be difficult for any writer to do this when Ingrid is largely absent from the story, her absence being the whole point. However, the contrast between the flimsiness of this character and the portrayal of Julia's unrequited love for Ralph - beautiful, unapologetic, and palpably real - is noticeable.

I've said it before, but you know a book's good when, upon finishing it, you feel like going straight back to the beginning and starting all over again. I borrowed this from the library and have been frantically hunting for a cheap copy so I can have one of my own before I have to take it back. I can see why The Legacy won't be a hit with everyone; I can see why some might find it boring. But I loved it (and I am already waiting impatiently for the author's future work). Despite a couple of flaws, this is a book I can't stop thinking about and it's firmly on my list of favourites for 2011 - if you loved any of the books I've referenced in this review, particularly the modern novels, you should give it a try.

Rating: 9/10

Autumn begins

2011-10-02T23:42:00.001+01:00

I must apologise for the awful photos; I just have no time for this sort of thing anymore and had to take advantage of a free half-hour to snap a few quick pictures of some stuff I've bought for autumn/winter. This Indian summer weekend has been nice and all, but I'm absolutely ready for piling on the woolly jumpers, layers, scarves, socks and boots now. Just realised I said exactly this in my last fashion post but still: IT'S A VALID POINT.

1. Zara gilet / H&M men's jumper
2. Primark jumper / Topshop rip-off skirt from local boutique
3. New Topshop blusher (Neon Rose) and eyeliner, plus nice eyeshadow thing I found in my room (I think this is from when I bought my friend a birthday present that overzealously included three different eyeshadow palettes and thought I'd better take one out...)
4. Particularly crap picture of Primark brogues, they're much nicer irl
5/6. Pictures of the view from my new (well, newish now) house, because there had to be something to make this post visually pleasing.

Book review: The Blue Book by A.L. Kennedy

2011-10-02T09:16:00.002+01:00

The Blue Book (2011) by A.L. Kennedy

The Blue Book is a complex, fractured story. It centres on middle-aged Beth, who is taking a cruise with her boyfriend, Derek, who may be about to propose. But it also jumps into Beth's past, when she was the lover and professional partner of Arthur, a fake medium, and in turn visits scenes from Arthur's past - and their history together. Some chapters seem entirely random and don't take on real significance until much later. The book is written mainly in the third person, but it occasionally inhabits Beth's head, so we see her thoughts in close-up, first-hand, stream-of-consciousness detail. It also appears to address the reader (or is it one of the characters?) directly, and there are playful details such as wrongly numbered pages - a little reference to the numerical code Beth and Arthur use to communicate with one another.

I'll address the main positive of this book first: the writing is simply sublime. As soon as I began it, I was finding lines I wanted to quote or write down on almost every page. Kennedy's use of language is brilliant, original and sometimes very offbeat (she frequently merges words together to create new meanings), but comes off as effective and innovative rather than deliberately 'quirky'. The plot, however, is more of a problem. The main set-up of 'love triangle on a boat' is comical, probably more so because this is a literary novel, yet the premise - at first glance - sounds like either pure trash or pure farce. To draw something intriguing and sometimes frightening out of this is no mean feat, to be sure, but there's no denying it's restrictive. Perhaps for this very reason, the narrative is choppy, and while I found the chapters detailing Beth and Arthur's work together interesting, there were others - scenes from the protagonists' childhoods, Arthur's solo work with wealthy customers - that bored me.

I loved how the reader is able to see Beth's thoughts in their purest form, and I liked her, but I often found the way the characters behaved around one another frustrating in the extreme. Every tiny thing seems to be fraught with difficulties and hugely overcomplicated - I wanted to reach into the book and knock some sense into them. I couldn't really figure Arthur out, either. I felt like Kennedy was hinting that he had some sort of mental health issues throughout the book, but never quite got at what these were. At points, he appears to be completely detached from reality and some of his monologues read as though he has severe learning difficulties. Kennedy is clearly an accomplished writer, so there's obviously some point to this, but - I'll be honest - I didn't understand what it was and I struggled to make sense of him as a character. His eccentricity seemed to jar alongside the intensely sexual nature of his relationship with Beth.

I skimmed through a number of reviews of this book after finishing it, and this passage from Katy Guest's review in The Independent particularly stood out to me: 'Some books are brilliant, challenging, memorable and bold, but the experience of reading them is quite unpleasant. A.L. Kennedy's latest is just such a book.' I wouldn't quite say The Blue Book was an unpleasant read, exactly, but I certainly found it impressive more than enjoyable. I can imagine many readers tiring of Beth and Arthur's hand-wringing over their relationship long before the final twist that makes sense of their (or, at least, Beth's) debilitating angst. The late deployment of this twist, and the suffocating sense of past trauma and emotional damage permeating the whole book, reminded me a lot of The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes, and my feelings about both of these critically lauded books are similar - while beautifully written, they lack the power to truly engage or convince. I'd read more by Kennedy, but I'd need to feel there would be more to hold my attention than just the language.

Rating: 6/10

Book review: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

2011-09-27T21:44:00.000+01:00

The Night Circus (2011) by Erin Morgenstern

Fantastical, exciting and fittingly enchanting, Erin Morgenstern's much-talked-about debut The Night Circus isn't great literature - but it IS, without a doubt, very good fun. The plot is difficult to summarise briefly, as it involves numerous different strands, but in the main it revolves around the rivalry between two great 19th-century magicians - Prospero the Enchanter and 'the man in the grey suit', also known as 'Mr A. H–', whose name eludes both pronunciation and memory. Both men vow to train apprentices who will be schooled in magic and ultimately pitted against each other in a long-running challenge which will dominate their lives. Prospero chooses his daughter, Celia; the nameless man chooses a nameless, orphaned boy, who eventually decides to call himself Marco. When the two are teenagers, their battleground, a mysterious and magical travelling circus which only opens at night, is chosen. But of course, there has to be a hitch, and in this case it's that Celia and Marco begin to fall in love with one another as soon as they meet.

There are similarities between this book and Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, one of my all-time favourites, and while The Night Circus is nowhere near as cerebral, it has a similar genuinely magical quality. The use of magic is integral to almost everything that happens, yet it's presented in a completely believable manner. The story is told mainly in short, snappy chapters which constantly switch between times and places. In addition to the main plotline, there's the story of the formation of the circus itself; the tale of Bailey, who, after being dared to enter the circus as a child, develops an enduring obsession with it and with a girl who is part of the troupe of performers; and the story of Herr Thiessen, who creates a magical clock for the circus, and goes on to become the leader of the 'Rêveurs', a kind of night circus fanclub. Meanwhile, the large and varied group of performers and artists involved in creating the circus become drawn in to the feud between Prospero and the nameless man - even after Prospero's apparent death. There's more besides, and almost too many main characters to mention; this is a rich, varied narrative which touches on a number of lives, rather than confining itself solely to a tale of magic or a love story.

With all the hype around this book, it's almost impossible to read it without imagining that it was written, or at least published, with an eventual film adaptation in mind. With endless wondrous sights around the circus and all the incredible magical feats performed by the characters, it would certainly make for a real visual spectacle, and the romance at the book's heart is bound to be a big draw for many. When I first started hearing about this book, there were some comparisons to Twilight, which I'm relieved to say are inaccurate - I'm not actually sure where anyone got the idea that the two are similar. Harry Potter fans, meanwhile, will probably appreciate the 'Power Trio' dynamic between the older Bailey, Poppet and Widget, as well as the more obvious elements of magic. I was pleased to find that the romance doesn't dominate the story anywhere near as much as I expected; a few of the scenes between Celia and Marco are a little corny, but nothing inexcusable.

Overall, it's well-written; although personally I would have preferred a little more detail and longer chapters without so much jumping around, there's something quite beautiful, and certainly very inventive, about the way Morgenstern describes breathtaking demonstrations of magic with minimal prose. (On the other hand, the style handily side-steps any need to explain how this magic works or even where it came from.) Oddly, the word 'likely' is used in place of 'probably' with irritating frequency, but nothing else about the writing struck me as anything less than accomplished. The author's skill lies mainly in world-building, and you often get the feeling she lacks confidence in her characters, creating beautiful settings for them to interact in rather than fleshing them out. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing; as imaginary worlds go, the altered reality of The Night Circus is a charming, seductive one.

This is an indulgent, escapist book - it's not wildly adventurous, dramatic, or particularly meaningful, and some may find it dull due to the lack of action. It's a story you could curl up with and lose yourself in, and though I never quite got to the point where I couldn't tear myself away from it, I did feel rather sad when it was all over. I think the characters are too lightly drawn to inspire real devotion from the reader, but the world surrounding them is skilfully created an astonishingly effective. It's the sights and sounds of the circus's myriad tents that have stuck in my head even as the characters have begun to fade. Perhaps the hype surrounding this book has been a little over-zealous; it's not perfect, and I can't imagine enough readers falling in love with the characters for it to become a real phenomenon. But it's a solid debut, and the carefully detailed world it conjures up has ensured my interest in Morgenstern's future work.

Rating: 7/10

A/W again: this time it's Zara

2011-09-26T23:44:00.000+01:00

This weekend I visited the newly refurbished Zara in Leeds and was overwhelmed by how much I want EVERYTHING they're doing right now. Perfect coats and jackets, gorgeous smart dresses and pencil skirts for work, and the best knitwear on the high street. A lot of other shops aren't really doing it for me right now (I've completely gone off Topshop for some reason, New Look has been a disappointment apart from the shoes (as per), and H&M never seems to have any of the good stuff in stock) but I could quite literally spend thousands in Zara...

I'm so into autumnal colours at the moment (what a surprise/how original, etc etc) - dark green, burgundy, navy, camel, grey. The pencil silhouette is definitely going to be my template for autumn office dressing, and I can't wait to get my hands on some fitted pencil dresses (the silver one shown here is a little glitzy for everyday wear, but the shape is absolutely spot on). The coat and jacket will have to remain in the 'impossible wishlist' category, but I HAVE to have a) one of the pencil skirts (the leather-look one is calling my name, but I'd also love one with a split) and b) at least one of those dreamy jumpers. I've been after a chunky, cable-knit navy jumper for a couple of months with no success and this one is beautiful, but that tan one with contrast arms, collar and hem is so ~unique~, I'm torn.

It's safe to say I am not overjoyed by the prospect of a 'mini heatwave' this week. I've packed away/thrown out/got completely sick of all my summer clothes and am ready for JUMPERS. Bring on the cold snap! (I won't be saying that when I have to dig my car out of a snowdrift every morning, but at least I'll be doing it in some nice wintery layers.)

Book review: Cold Light by Jenn Ashworth

2011-09-21T22:24:00.000+01:00

Cold Light (2011) by Jenn Ashworth

Cold Light is both a coming-of-age story and a murder mystery of sorts. Our protagonist, Laura, is a lonely 24-year-old cleaner in an anonymous Northern city, and we meet her as she sits down to watch the televised unveiling of a memorial to her former 'best friend', Chloe, who died ten years before. The story then spools back to the events of that winter, with Laura - who then called herself Lola - narrating her story as a confused teenager. She is caught between a depressing life at home with her distant mother and mentally ill father, and her all-consuming idolatry of Chloe, who in fact is often manipulative, spiteful and cruel. Chloe, in turn, is under the spell of her menacing older boyfriend, Carl. We know the story is progressing towards some sort of tragedy, as the fact of Chloe's death is made plain from page one, but Jenn Ashworth does a good job of keeping the reader guessing about how and why this happens, with various secrets staying under wraps right to the very end.

You can certainly tell Ashworth is a child of the early 80s, and she's got many of the details of teenage life in the late 90s spot on. (Even the names - have you ever met a shy or geeky Chloe? The name practically exudes a uniquely teenage kind of glamour.) I laughed when, for example, Lola described Chloe's hairstyle on a date with Carl; 'Her hair was scraped back into a scrunchie, apart from two long strands at the front. She'd wet those with spit and curled them around her finger.' Teen girls of the 90s, summed up in just one hairdo. Lola isn't a hugely likeable character, but her narrative voice is wholly believable as that of a 14-year-old. The style often recalls Anne Fine's The Tulip Touch, one of my favourite children's books, with the twisted relationship between Lola and Chloe mirroring that of Natalie and Tulip (and as Ashworth is a similar age to me, I can't help but wonder if she read this book as a child too, and might have been influenced by it).

The blurb for Cold Light says there's 'a surreal edge to its portrait of a northern town'; it's surreal all right, but whether it's successful in this is another matter. 'The City', as Lola calls it throughout the story, is weirdly self-contained, with residents rarely leaving its confines. There's the odd detail of a local newsreader who mysteriously exerts a powerful influence over the community, which feels like it would fit more comfortably into a US-based story and doesn't ring true of an English town. Similarly, the idea that the streets would be completely empty at night because of a flasher exposing himself to teenage girls would make far more sense if the story was set in a small, isolated village (is this mass reaction really plausible for a city?) It doesn't add up that Lola is so prejudiced and ignorant about Wilson's disabilities, given her own father's significant mental health problems. And I also found it hard to believe that the entire city would still be so obsessed with Chloe ten years after her death; I know some tragedies linger in the public consciousness longer than others, but if the people of the City were so keen to turn vigilante against a flasher, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't romanticise a relationship between a 14-year-old girl and a 29-year-old man.

I'd been looking forward to reading this book for months, and was delighted to find a copy in the library. Given my anticipation, I felt somewhat let down by it. Aside from the last few chapters, it often reads like YA fiction, as opposed to adult fiction about teenagers, which might be an advantage for some readers, but wasn't what I was looking for (Mary Horlock's The Book of Lies did it much better). It has all the right ingredients for something darkly intriguing, but somehow, all the interesting elements never quite come together and in places it feels dull and flat. That said, there was something about it that compelled me to read on, and I'm no less interested in Ashworth's other work - I still think her first novel, A Kind of Intimacy, looks potentially excellent. Cold Light, meanwhile, is a good - but not great - read with a lot of weak patches and some solid redeeming features; not brilliant, but certainly worth a look.

Rating: 6/10

3 things I like about S/S 2012

2011-09-20T22:00:00.000+01:00

So far...

1. Paul Smith

2. Theyskens' Theory

3. Brilliant photos of London Fashion Week by the ever-excellent Kris. I was going to post some of these here, but there are simply too many to choose from, I'm overwhelmed. Unusually, even when I'm not keen on the clothes, I still love looking at Kris's pictures because they're just so BIG! So CLEAR! Go and look at them.

Book review: God's Own Country by Ross Raisin

2011-09-19T00:07:00.001+01:00

God's Own Country (2008) by Ross Raisin

Sometimes, when I read a really good book, the subsequent review practically writes itself. I normally start the first draft of a review when I'm halfway through a book; occasionally even earlier. If I absolutely LOVED the book, you'd think this would be easier. Yet it's been days since I finished God's Own Country and I haven't yet written a word about it. Why the delay? In part, it could be because I just know it's going to be difficult to do this book justice. My initial response upon finishing it was to write: 'Wow, just wow', and I'm tempted to leave it at that. But if I'm to convince others it's worth reading, I suppose I have to explain why it wowed me in a little more detail, so I will give it my best shot.

The story is narrated in North Yorkshire dialect by Sam Marsdyke, a 19-year-old farmer's son. Having been expelled from school several years before, he has withdrawn into a world of his own making; he spends his days working on the farm with his brutal father, walking the wild moors with his sheepdog, and terrorising unsuspecting ramblers and 'towns' (Sam's word for the rich families who are slowly but surely buying up the surrounding farms). With no friends or even acquaintances of his own age, Sam lavishes attention on the puppies and lambs at the farm, and frequently uses his vivid imagination to conjure up interaction between the people, and even the animals, around him. When a new family - well-off 'towns' from London - move into the farm next door, Sam develops something of a fixation with their young daughter (whose name is Jo, although she is almost always referred to as 'the girl' by Sam - a telling detail, as it turns out). The plot is woven around Sam's increasing sense of isolation and, concurrently, his escalating obsession with the girl. Without giving too much away, it all builds - subtly and with a heavy dose of black humour - to a startling and disturbing climax.

Rarely has a narrative voice been so convincing, so powerful, so ferociously REAL. At points during the time I spent reading this book, I found myself actually thinking in Sam's voice, which I don't think has ever happened before. It's revealed early on that Sam's expulsion from school was due to an accusation of rape, but rather than turning him into a repulsive character, Ross Raisin carefully dances around the issue - it isn't even that you necessarily believe Sam is innocent, but rather that he is painted as such a believable, complex character that it is impossible not to be drawn into his lonely world. He is often very funny and can be incredibly beguiling. His observations are twisted cleverly and are sometimes shocking; for example, he turns a description of two sheep mating into what seems to be an admission of guilt about the rape incident, and the wordplay here is so beautifully done that I had to read it several times and turn it over in my mind to grasp the real meaning. Sam is capable of astonishing cruelty, but shows affection and empathy towards the animals he cares for; he is clearly obsessive, but his fantasies about the girl are, more often than not, innocent and even quite sweet. In fact, it's Jo who initially appears to be the more manipulative and conniving of the two. Raisin encourages the reader to be on Sam's side, to perceive him as well-meaning even as his behaviour becomes ever more menacing and out of touch with reality.

There are many dramatic events in this story - particularly towards the end, which spirals into surreal confusion to the point that what appears to be a nightmare segues into the book's climax, reflecting Sam's damaged mental state. But really, it's all about Sam as a character, and the power of his unreliable narration. You probably know how much I like my bleak, black books, and God's Own Country certainly won't have the same appeal for every reader; it's intensely disturbing in parts. The idiomatic language might be off-putting to some, too. But if you can stomach all the slang and the dark turns the plot takes, it's breathtaking; the way the book draws you in until you're too rapt to look away seems to mirror Jo's involvement with Sam. Alongside Gillespie and I by Jane Harris (a worthwhile comparison since, despite the very different settings and details, the two books share many traits) this masterful debut is one of the best books I've read all year.

Rating: 10/10

Book review: The Stranger's Child by Alan Hollinghurst

2011-09-15T08:50:00.000+01:00

The Stranger's Child (2011) by Alan Hollinghurst

The only other Alan Hollinghurst book I've read is the beautiful but disturbing Booker Prize winner The Line of Beauty, which, from what I can gather, is typical of his work. The Stranger's Child, then, is a departure: while homosexuality and gay relationships are a strong theme throughout the book, it is a family saga spanning almost a hundred years - stretching from the eve of the First World War to the present day - and is the first Hollinghurst novel to feature major female characters. Divided into five parts, the book follows several generations of the Sawle and Valance families. Cecil Valance - first introduced as the young lover of George Sawle - is the central figure of The Stranger's Child; a bisexual poet and aesthete, he achieves fame - and creates an impact which will resonate throughout history - with a poem titled "Two Acres", ostensibly a message of ardour directed at George's teeenage sister, Daphne. Daphne is the secondary protagonist, and while Cecil remains frozen in time as an increasingly mythical figure, we follow her through youthful infatuation, marriage, motherhood, family life and old age. Later, a younger character is introduced: Paul Bryant, an aspiring writer whose obsession with Cecil and the two families' entwined histories leads him to pen a speculative, sensational (and in fact remarkably accurate) biography.

I initially found it quite difficult to adapt to the narrative jumps between generations. After the opening, which I instantly loved, I struggled to get used to the second section. But by the time this ended, I had become so involved that I hated the next skip forward in time. However, by the end I was glad this device had been used; to see the impact of these characters on their descendants near to a century later gives the story a uniquely insightful feel. You really get the sense not only that you've genuinely known these people, but that you've travelled through time to see how the echoes of their thoughts, feelings and actions have reverberated down the years. Hollinghurst is clearly a fan of keeping the reader guessing - each of the sections opens in such a way that makes everything a complete mystery at first, with the truth gradually revealed; there are some witty red herrings in the narrative too, and the dates of each event are never actually given, just subtly implied through cultural changes, topics of conversation, the characters' manners and clothes.

Because the story takes leaps through time, it's impossible for me to discuss the plot in any detail without giving away significant spoilers - so I won't. However, I do really want to talk about how much I loved the party scene in the second section of the book. It's an absolute masterclass in writing; I actually don't understand how Hollinghurst managed to write it in such a way, as if you are there with the characters as they move from room to room, in the thick of the action, experiencing the confusion of drunken fragments of conversation and the disorientation caused by interaction between a number of people with disparate goals and desires. It's breathtakingly filmic and one of the most impressive and memorable scenes I have read in any book in recent memory. Surely, surely, a television adaptation of this novel must already have been mooted. Fans of Downton Abbey and the like would absolutely lap it up.

This was a slow, leisurely read rather than a compulsive one, but for all that I enjoyed it immensely. I was immediately drawn in by the first two sections, which bear what I'm sure is a deliberate resemblance to Brideshead Revisited; the period, the relationship between George and Cecil, the significance of the two families' houses ("Two Acres" and Corley Court, the latter clearly the book's Brideshead). I thought the book sagged in the middle somewhat, and the introduction of Paul was troublesome - he isn't likeable, though this is necessary for his character to work - but the plot gained momentum in the last few chapters and I found myself captivated by Paul's race to uncover the 'truth'. The short final section wrapped things up neatly - I enjoyed the fact that we see members of yet another new generation still obsessed by Cecil, suggesting that this will always continue while the man himself will remain an unknowable enigma. Therefore, the ending itself, which is left somewhat open, seems a fitting conclusion even as it is a little frustrating. I didn't want the book to end, and I wished more time could have been spent on the final section - I understand that Paul's introduction was necessary as a bridge between the generations, but I think it could have been done with more brevity.

It's a real shame The Stranger's Child was excluded from this year's Booker shortlist, and I can't help but feel it's been snubbed precisely because it seemed like such an obvious choice. Though both were very good and neither perfect, I think The Stranger's Child has the edge over The Line of Beauty; its scope and ambition make it both more appealing and more resonant. I didn't fall head over heels in love with the book, but nevertheless, I believe it's worth the hype.

Rating: 8/10

Maudlin Monday

2011-09-12T23:24:00.003+01:00

Having a bit of an introspective Monday night, sitting here listening to Hatful of Hollow, tweeting like I'm drunk and eating cream pies (#foreveralone). Seriously though, HOW FUCKING GOOD were the Smiths? My heart wants to burst with love for them every time I listen to anything they ever did. And when I say 'them', of course I mean 'Morrissey'. Greatest lyricist of all time and idgaf what anyone else thinks. I could make this into a detailed tribute but I'm seriously lacking in the necessary eloquence at this point in time, so here are some flawless masterpieces of songs instead.

How dearly I'd love to get carried away/Oh, but dreams have a knack of just not coming true/And time is against me now.

Tweed blazer search, 2011 reboot

2011-09-08T22:58:00.000+01:00

Last year - last September, in fact - I wrote a post on my old blog about my fruitless search for the perfect tweed jacket. This year I'm experiencing a case of extreme déjà vu. If anything, they're more ubiquitous than ever on the high street, but I cannot for the life of me find one that's RIGHT.

This offering is only to be found on the US H&M website (where, irritatingly, it's $30, ie about £18.50. It's £24.99 over here!) but I've seen it in every store near me lately and tried it on about 20 times, WILLING it to be perfect. Unfortunately, it's just not cutting the mustard. The main problem is that it's just too short, especially at the front, and the effect of fastening a single button on a jacket with this shape is less than flattering, particularly with layers underneath.

Also from H&M is this slightly more expensive jacket, which is £34.99 and comes in two colours. I was really pretty excited when I saw this, as the cut looks perfect in the pictures and it has a grand total of THREE buttons, but when I finally managed to track one down in my size, I was disappointed with the fit. I can't even really put my finger on what's wrong with it, it just doesn't seem to be right for my shape at all.

Here's this year's Primark version. I got really excited about this at first, but the enthusiasm died off somewhat after I had a better look at it. It's too short at the front and, again, there's only one button. Also, it's £24 - not a huge amount of money, but not a price I would want to pay for something from Primark unless I was sure it was right, as opposed to just 'this'll do'. If I was going to go for this, I might as well have bought the first H&M one since it's the same price.

Last year Zara had loads and loads of tweed jackets yet none of them were QUITE right (quelle surprise). This year there's this one. (NB: I would not be wearing it with a cream polo neck, I am not Alan Partridge.) I really like the square elbow patches - and I know Zara blazers fit nicely because I already have one - but frankly, I can't stretch to £59.99 right now. Plus, I'd prefer some interesting collar detail and - yes - more than one button.

This one's £65 from ASOS. Horrible styling and scary model aside (seriously, though, those things do put me off which is why I'll always prefer to just see a picture of the product...) the price is a little too much - I'd pay £65 if it was 100% PERFECT, but not otherwise - and yet again, it just looks far too short.

So basically, the search goes on... AGAIN. Sigh. Can anyone out there provide me with a(n affordable) solution to this terrible conundrum? Answers on a postcard please.

Reading round-up: July & August

2011-09-06T10:12:00.000+01:00

(This is a continuation of the bi-monthly book list I used to do at my old blog. Now that I'm posting my book reviews here, in future I'm just going to do a quick round-up at the end of each month, but I didn't want to miss anything out!)

July & August weren't great months for getting a lot of reading done, partly because I've had so much else to do, partly because I got bogged down in a couple of not-so-great books that took me a while to finish. However, I still managed a total of 13. Here's an overview of what I thought of them all...

53. The Winter Sea by Susanna Kearsley - 7/10 (full review). A fluffy, but nevertheless enjoyable historical romance alternating between 18th-century Scotland and the present day.
54. The Likeness by Tana French - 6/10 (full review). A too-long suspenseful thriller that wants to be The Secret History but doesn't succeed, thanks in part to a completely implausible plot.
55. How To Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran - 7/10 (full review). An amusing (at times hysterically funny) personal memoir with an admirable feminist agenda.
56. Gillespie & I by Jane Harris - 10/10 (full review). Absolutely sublime - a deliciously dark, compelling and addictively readable historical tale with a completely spellbinding narrative voice. My read of the year so far. If you take any notice of my opinion on books whatsoever, I urge you to read this!
57. Oracle Night by Paul Auster - 8/10 (full review). Hard to describe but very captivating, this is a slightly surreal, multi-layered story charting the effect of a seemingly powerful notebook on a writer's life.
58. The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster - 8/10 (full review). A trio of interconnected detective stories in which nothing is as it seems. Full of symbolism and recurring themes, this was unlike anything I've read before (in a good way).
59. Lucky Break by Esther Freud - 6/10 (full review). Following the fates of a group of drama students across 14 years, this has an interesting premise but somehow never quite hits the mark.
60. Snowdrops by A.D. Miller - 4/10 (full review). Despite the beguiling and well-depicted setting of modern Russia, this 'suspense' novel is hampered by a detestable protagonist and a notable lack of suspense.
61. The Book of Illusions by Paul Auster - 7/10 (full review). A subdued story about a grieving man's obsession with a silent film star. Unbelievable in parts, but intriguing and haunting.
62. The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes - 6/10 (full review). A beautifully written but ultimately rather too slight tale of unreliable memories and past secrets.
63. Travels in the Scriptorium by Paul Auster - 5/10 (full review). While as well-written as the other Auster books I read this month, the plot of this self-referential fable is muddled and unengaging.
64. The Magician King by Lev Grossman - 3/10 (full review). A bloated, anticlimatic mess full of unpleasant characters, this is much worse than its predecessor, The Magicians. A disappointment.
65. A Summer of Drowning by John Burnside - 9/10 (full review). With flawless prose and characterisation, plus fascinating themes, this semi-supernatural mystery set on a remote Norwegian island is only let down by some frustrating plot points.

I've got my work cut out for the next month or so - there's a HUGE list of books I want to read (but isn't there always!) Next on my to-read pile is Cold Light by Jenn Ashworth, as I just managed to find a copy at the library after coveting it for months. I'm looking forward to reading and reviewing Incubus by Carol Goodman - I've previously read a few of her more 'literary' mysteries in the Secret History vein, and this is a paranormal novel which has (worryingly) been compared to Twilight, so I'm interested to find out whether it will be a successful take on the genre or a bit of a car crash... I'm very intrigued by the buzz about Erin Morgenstern's debut, The Night Circus, and I also really want to get round to reading Ross Raisin's God's Own Country, by all accounts a quintessentially 'Yorkshire' book. And then, of course, there's the Alan Partridge 'autobiography', I, Partridge: We Need To Talk About Alan, out at the end of the month!

What have you read and loved (or hated) this month? Which books are you looking forward to reading? As always, recommendations are welcome!

Book review: A Summer of Drowning by John Burnside

2011-09-02T09:32:00.000+01:00

A Summer of Drowning (2011) by John Burnside

When asked to list the types of books I generally enjoy, a phrase I've often thrown into the list is 'books about solitary people'. In A Summer of Drowning, I have found perhaps the ultimate book about solitary people. Set on the remote Norwegian island of Kvaløya, it features a cast of characters almost universally defined by their independence and solitude. The story is narrated by Liv, a self-confessed loner with no boyfriend or friends - nor any desire for them; her closest relationship is with Kyrre Opdahl, an ageing neighbour who fills her head with old folk tales about mythical creatures and supernatural powers. Liv has been brought up alone by her artist mother Angelika, who has deliberately chosen the isolation of island life and is famed for her reclusive existence. In the present day of the story, Liv is 28, but the majority of the narrative takes place 10 years previously, and recounts the summer she finished school, an already uncertain time marred by a spate of drownings on the island.

Interwoven with the mystery of the drownings is a traditional tale about the huldra - a troll disguised as a beautiful woman, who spirits men away and leads them to their deaths. Kyrre's obsession with variations on this story slowly begins to taint Liv's perceptions of the events of that summer, and she develops an increasing conviction that a mysterious, apparently homeless classmate, Maia, is not all she seems to be, and is in some way connected to the inexplicable deaths. Liv describes herself as 'one of God's spies', and passes her empty days by observing the actions of neighbours and her mother's acquaintances. When a friendly yet sinister stranger called Martin Crosbie arrives to spend summer on the island and becomes the main subject of Liv's spying, her suspicions spiral out of control, to the point that she begins to lose her grip on the line between fantasy and reality.

A Summer of Drowning is a book in which every character has hidden depths and harbours dark secrets. Liv is a complicated girl, precocious but naive, whose life has been shaped by her adored but somewhat heartless mother - and influenced in a different way by the palpable absence of a father she has never known. Despite lacking her own voice in the book, Angelika herself is a constantly dominant presence, a fact underlined by Liv's frequent references to her as Mother - in contrast to her repeated disparaging dismissal of her father as father, the italics often implying a sarcastic tone. The book is filled with small, carefully crafted, and meaningful details like this. The characters and the relationships between them are, without exception, brilliantly rendered, and there's a constant undertone of suspense and unease which reaches its climax in a subtly terrifying interlude set in England.

Personally, I loved this book, but I can imagine that it won't have the same appeal for every reader; it's rather dreamlike, often slow-moving, and there are times when the events it portrays seem oddly anticlimatic and almost unfinished. I have to admit I was disappointed that the last third of the book didn't recapture the escalating sense of dread conveyed so effectively in the England section, and that aspects such as the weird letter Liv received in the hotel were never given a satisfying explanation. Because we see everything through Liv's eyes, the story ends on a slightly frustrating note, as tales related by unreliable narrators often do. At the end, I felt I'd had a sublime reading experience yet had been left a little let down by the plot. Nevertheless, due to John Burnside's beautiful, beguiling prose and hugely appealing (to me) themes, this was one of the most inspiring books I've read all year. There is absolutely no doubt that I will be reading more of this author's work.

Rating: 9/10

Take me away

2011-08-31T19:38:00.002+01:00

1. Kefalonia, Greece; Berlin, Germany / 2. Mellieha, Malta / 3. Cirkewwa, Malta / 4. London from the London Eye; Bempton cliffs, East Yorkshire; Yorkshire Dales / 5 & 6. New York City / 7. Rome, Italy

I am suffering from serious wanderlust at the moment; that is to say, even more so than normal. I'm attributing this to the deadly combination of having no money, feeling generally rather jaded, and - crucially - the temperature suddenly dropping to a level that can only mean autumn is here... Hence the compulsion to gather together some of my favourite photos of places I've been. It might, of course, make more sense to compile a list of all the places I'd like to go, but that would truly be a mammoth task so you'll have to watch this space! In the meantime I'll just be wishing I was on a sunny beach somewhere, while wrapping myself in fleecy blankets (seriously, it's THAT cold right now. Whatever happened to summer?!)

A/W forever

2011-08-29T18:51:00.011+01:00

1 & 2. UK Vogue, September 2011 issue
3. ASOS magazine, October 2011 issue
4 & 5. Elle Russia, September 2011 issue
6. Whistles
7 & 8. Zara

Just some more new-season inspiration. I did some window shopping today and felt heartbroken over all the gorgeous coats and jackets appearing in the shops that I absolutely definitely cannot afford. This year I'm going to try and make lists of ABSOLUTE MUST-HAVES for a) work, b) ~casual wear~ and c) going out. How I'm going to manage this, I have no idea. So far, I'm thinking a) pencil skirts, b) an attractive gilet of some sort and c) this, with liberal helpings of leather and added slippers (the smart-flat-shoe kind, not the wear-around-the-house kind). Of course, there's always the never-ending search for the perfect tweed blazer, but I gave up on any hope of that dream bearing fruit last winter. As the money in my Paypal account is currently earmarked for bathroom storage units, photo pockets and an oil burner, I think it's all going to have to wait a little bit longer.

Book review: The Magician King by Lev Grossman

2011-08-25T20:12:00.001+01:00

The Magician King (2011) by Lev Grossman

Let me begin this review by saying that I really enjoyed Lev Grossman's The Magicians, the 2009 novel to which The Magician King is a sequel. I didn't think it was perfect, by any means - I wasn't keen on the protagonist, the irritating and selfish Quentin - but altogether I found it to be an original, enjoyable, and gloriously escapist read. I will admit that I am not the biggest fan of all-out fantasy, but I liked the fact that The Magicians couched its fantastical elements in a recognisable version of the 'real world', which tends to be a difficult thing to pull off. Altogether, I'd been looking forward to this follow-up since it was first announced, and have had it on my wishlist since the title was confirmed. Therefore, it was a big disappointment, and a bit of a surprise, that I really didn't like it much at all.

The Magician King picks up some time after the end of the first book. Quentin and friends are still in Fillory, the Narnia-like magical alternate world, where they now reign as kings and queens. But typically, Quentin is restless and not particularly happy; he thinks there must be something more to achieve, and he sets off on a mission to recover taxes from a remote island, taking the increasingly aloof - and powerful - Julia with him. The story unfolds as a disjointed kind of quest that never really seems to go anywhere. There are moments of excitement, but what ends up happening is repeatedly anticlimatic. It's hard to tell whether this is intentional - obviously, the whole point of the Magicians books is to subvert the cosy stereotypes usually found in this type of tale. Either way, it feels very unsatisfying. Some chapters branch off into Julia's history, which I wanted to be interested in, but the book never quite shakes off the feeling that she's secondary to Quentin, plus she's just not very likeable - not to mention the fact that her story goes beyond ridiculous in the end.

And then there's the way it's all written, which I could talk about forever. There are knowing references to Harry Potter, Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Alice in Wonderland, etc everywhere - to the point, for example, of Brakebills (this world's school of magic) actually being referred to as Hogwarts. It's like being constantly nudged and winked at, like the book is continually making sure you're 'in on the joke'. In the same vein, there's far too much swearing. I couldn't care less about swearing in books, it certainly doesn't offend me, but it's shoved into the narrative so often that it just becomes exhausting. The repeated lazy usage of 'shit' to mean stuff/things particularly grates. I presume this is all to hammer home that these characters are adults, that this world is far from whimsical despite the presence of talking animals and magical islands. It's so unnecessary, though.

Part-way through reading the book, I highlighted this passage to demonstrate a perfect example of the style:

Of course Iris had every right. That's how the system worked. She was doing Julia a fucking favor. Babysitting the noob was evidently not considered a premium assignment at Murs, and she wasn't going to pretend to enjoy it. Which whatever, but this did not oblige Julia to pretend to be grateful either. Really she ought to dog it a few times, she thought, just to piss Iris off. Show her that Julia had nothing to prove. See how long it took her to lose her shit.

I mean, 'noob'? 'Which whatever'? Fuck, piss and shit in one short paragraph for no real reason? Not long afterwards the word 'nomming' was seriously used, at which point I almost threw my Kindle at the wall. I get that the narrative is partly meant to represent the internal voice of Quentin/Julia, but god, it's irritating. And THE WHOLE BOOK is written like this. Afterwards, I had to find my copy of The Magicians to refresh my memory about the style - and yes, it had its fair share of profanity and slang, but The Magician King makes it look like a nominee for the Nobel prize for literature.

Perhaps this book will be more popular with readers more accustomed to and/or comfortable with fantasy fiction. Most of the events in Fillory, along with the climax of Julia's backstory, went too far into territory I found ludicrous and bizarre (in a bad way). I didn't like any of the characters, the interaction between Quentin and Poppy was sloppily done and unbelievable, and I really hated that Quentin was STILL hung up on the now-dead Alice having slept with Penny AFTER THEY SPLIT. Admittedly, I did at least feel compelled to keep reading right to the end; there's a few good bits, if you look for them. But it was a hard slog to finish and I doubt I'm going to be reading any further installments. Overall, sadly, this book was a mess.

Rating: 3/10

The end of an era

2011-08-25T00:16:00.001+01:00

I've been looking back on my old blog content (which I'm archiving for posterity) and feeling rather glad that I have a record of my own outfits to use as inspiration. I'm preparing to be on complete SPENDING LOCKDOWN for the foreseeable future, so I'm going to have to make the best of what I've already got. That means adapting my current collection of summer office wear and threadbare trousers for autumn/winter. Too much of a tall order? I'm hoping adding a few 'key pieces', whatever they might be, will do the job. Good thing I have a big coat collection - although of course you can never have too many.

(Of course, it doesn't help that another ASOS magazine arrived in the post today and I am overcome with lust for various things I can't afford. Also just spotted these Topshop shoes - o bby.)

Anyway, what better way to commemorate the end of my old blog than with a montage of tiny pictures? As I'm in the middle of moving all my clothes from one house to another, it seems like an appropriate time to reflect on outfits past. So there you have most of them... in miniature. To be continued, eventually.

Book review roundup: Paul Auster

2011-08-19T23:20:00.006+01:00

I've gone through a minor obsession with Paul Auster's writing over the last month or so, brought on mainly by hearing/reading lots of comparisons between his work and that of his wife, Siri Hustvedt (which, by the way, I understand, but there are discernible differences in style). I haven't been posting individual reviews of these books, so here's a digested roundup.

Oracle Night (2003)

Oracle Night begins with Sidney Orr, a novelist who is recovering from a severe illness, buying a unique Portuguese notebook in a rather odd stationery store. On the recommendation of his friend, also a novelist, Sidney begins to flesh out an idea for a story concerning a man who suffers a near-death experience and impulsively leaves his wife and home, resolving to start his life anew in a different city. The narrative follows both the progression of this tale and its protagonist Nick Bowen, and the 'real' story of Sidney, whose relationship with his wife Grace (the history of which is detailed in a number of footnotes) begins to flounder soon after he acquires the notebook. Meanwhile, Sidney attempts to re-write HG Wells' The Time Machine as a modern film script, turning it into an unconventional romance, and the Nick narrative also has a further strand wherein the character is profoundly affected by the contents of a lost manuscript, the title of which is Oracle Night.

I decided to read Oracle Night partly because it was billed as 'the place to start' for newcomers to Auster's work, and it proved to be a perfect introduction. It's short, but packed with detail and (as the description above probably indicates) multi-layered. There are definitely elements of the weird about this story - the disappearance and relocation of the Paper Palace and its enigmatic proprietor, the 'powers' of the notebook - but it isn't a paranormal or fantasy novel. This really appealed to me - I love the combination of literary prose and hints of the unexplained. I also LOVED the writing. Despite all the intricacies of the plot, it often seems secondary to the way the story is told, the ideas it explores. There are parallels galore and the book often touches on the relationship between fiction and reality and/or language and action. I'd have liked the story to go on for longer - but all in all, it did more than enough to pique my interest.

Rating: 8/10

The New York Trilogy (1987)

The New York Trilogy comprises a trio of interconnected stories: City of Glass, Ghosts and The Locked Room. Each of them presents a spin on the detective genre. In City of Glass, a writer is mistaken for a private detective and is drawn into the entanglements of a rich, eccentric family. Ghosts, the shortest of the three, sees a detective tasked with observing a man and becoming increasingly paranoid about his target's life, as well as the intentions of his employer. The Locked Room, which has the most traditional format, follows another writer's obsession with his childhood best friend, who has been missing for years but becomes a celebrated author some time after his disappearance.

This one is a really difficult book to review - to the point that I had to delete my first attempt and start again. At first I assumed that, although I knew the stories were interlocked, it would be possible to treat each of them as a standalone novella. However, when I reached the end of The Locked Room, I realised that the connections between the stories are so close and complex that this would be impossible; they only really make sense in the context of one another. Because I didn't fully understand the relationship between reality and fiction in these stories at the begnning, certain things initially left me feeling very frustrated. The key to 'getting' this book, I soon realised, was to recognise that much of it is symbolic, designed to explore themes - identity, perception, the importance of names, the power of stories and imagination - than to describe believable events. There's this constant uneasy feeling that nothing is quite as it seems, but not in a sensational horror-story way, rather just that everything is slightly out of kilter. Particularly memorable was a scene in The Locked Room, involving two characters discussing the enigmatic appeal of Fanshawe, the missing writer. 'The book gets stuck somewhere in the brain, and you can’t get rid of it,' one of them says. 'You can't stop thinking about it.' For me, the same could be said of Paul Auster's prose. While I didn't think this was a truly great book, the style constantly kept me coming back for more and I came away from it feeling thoroughly hooked.

Rating: 8/10

The Book of Illusions (2002)

David Zimmer is a teacher and writer whose wife and two young sons have been killed in an aeroplane crash. At his lowest ebb, suicidal and alcoholic, David sees a silent film on television and laughs for the first time since the tragedy. Thereafter, he develops a fascination with the actor featured in the old movie, Hector Mann - a minor star of silent comedies who vanished in 1929 and was never seen or heard of again. Travelling around the world in order to visit the film archives containing Hector's few movies, David channels his obsession into a book about the actor's work. However, the story really begins some time after this, when David receives a mysterious letter containing some startling news about Hector.

The Book of Illusions displays many characteristics of Auster's typical style, most noticeably the constant presence of symbolism, the perceived significance of art and the line between reality and (as the title suggests) illusion. Here, rather than the emphasis being on language and writing, the focus is on Hector's films and their visual impact, though of course the power of storytelling is still key. When David discovers that Hector made some films that were never seen by anyone else, he questions whether art has any importance if it is not shared with and experienced by an audience. There are other elements of the story that are, essentially, totally implausible. For example, the manner of David and Alma's first meeting is really quite ridiculous, as is the speedy development of their relationship. But I think this is where the genius of Auster's writing really lies, in suspending the reader's disbelief and immersing you so deeply into the story that these strange events seem believable. I can imagine that the book won't work for everyone - some may find the lengthy descriptions of unseen, nonexistent films dull (I really enjoyed them), and there's a curious... quietness about it all - a very subdued feel. This is not a deeply thrilling novel, more of a restrained but haunting little tale.

Rating: 7/10

Travels in the Scriptorium (2006)

Travels in the Scriptorium opens like this: a man, known only as Mr. Blank, is apparently imprisoned within a room. He remembers snippets of his childhood, but nothing of how he came to be in the room, and has little to no recollection of his adult life. During the course of the story, he is visited by a number of people and recognises them only vaguely, if at all. He contemplates escaping from the room, but seems incapable of attempting to discover whether the door is locked from the outside, despite the fact that he is able to move around and the room is small. To pass the time, he begins to read a manuscript on his desk, which turns out to be an account of a man's adventures and imprisonment in 'the Confederation', a vaguely sci-fi fictionalised version of America.

This book is really an extended short story, with a strong surreal flavour. It becomes obvious quite quickly that the character of Mr. Blank is supposed to represent the author - if not Auster himself, then something of the writer's spirit, perhaps the part of him that makes him an author. Blank's visitors frequently refer to themselves as 'operatives' who he has sent on 'missions', often with seriously detrimental effects on their lives. Whether the visitors are benign, or seeking revenge, is unclear, but it does seem to be the case that by the conclusion, they have 'won'. Filled with characters from Auster's other novels, and often relying on heavy use of symbolism and motifs, the story is extremely, and obviously deliberately, self-referential. Perhaps partly because of this, I was a little disappointed in it. The plot was flimsy, and I wasn't sure what the minutiae of Blank's everyday activities were meant to add to it. The story-within-a-story was interesting but didn't end up going anywhere (though, of course, that's kind of the point of it). After how much I've enjoyed the other Auster books, this left me feeling a bit short-changed, and while his talent was still evident in the prose style, it definitely wasn't a favourite.

Rating: 5/10

The Devil's Double

2011-08-17T01:13:00.003+01:00

I went to see The Devil's Double tonight and I've got to say even if I'd hated it, I'd probably still have been making this post because of THAT BLOODY POSTER, which is either the most amazing or the tackiest thing I've ever seen in my life (not that those two things are mutually exclusive or anything). I can't stop looking at it, think I might get a life-size version painted on my bedroom wall in the new house. I'm sure the landlord will be fine with it.

But anyway, I LOVED IT. The film is based on true events - the life of Latif Yahia, the body double of Saddam Hussein's son Uday - but it's quite heavily fictionalised and cartoonish, and probably best thought of as a gangster movie rather than a 'real story'. Dominic Cooper is SO GOOD as both Uday and Latif, and also absurdly attractive (probably not really the point, in fact pretty detrimental to the point... but he is, I think it's the prosthetic nose, he should keep it on). I was also very excited by the fact that a lot of it was filmed in Malta, therefore I spent much of the film jumping around in my seat saying/thinking I've been there! I've walked down that street! I feel a disproportionately strong bond with Malta given that I only spent a week there, and this only added to my desire to go back.

To sum up, I don't know if anyone else experiences this, but when I watch an exceptionally good film I sometimes get this weird queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me nothing else is going to match up for a while and I'm going to be moping around, waiting for it to come out on DVD. I would go and see it in the cinema again, but I already did that with the most recent Harry Potter (I'm not a crazed fan, I was just drunk the first time) and since a regular cinema ticket is now £7.85 (!!!) I don't think it's a very financially viable option. So, DVD soon please.

The sky above ablaze

2011-08-15T23:59:00.002+01:00

In February 2007 I went to see Amy Winehouse at Manchester Academy. It's a show I already had great memories of - her stunning, flawless vocal performance, the lovely chilled-out crowd and the rare, fleeting pleasure of knowing you're seeing someone at the height of their talents, in that brief period between people starting to truly appreciate their genius and the point they become subject to absolute tabloid hysteria. Since her death - and no, I still can't quite believe I have to sit and write 'her death' - those recollections have taken on a greater significance. I know now that I'll never see her sing again, and she'll never have the chance to return to the level of greatness I witnessed. As I've said before, I feel privileged to have had this experience.

At the time, I recorded some clips of her performance on my phone. I haven't watched any of them for years, and in fact, I thought they were lost - saved on some broken laptop. But last night, I was combing through my old external hard drive (actually looking for amusingly bad photos of my younger self and people I used to date - ha) and I found them.

I'm not posting these because they're in any way decent quality. They were recorded on some crap mobile phone camera (probably this, my absolute pride and joy at the time) and the sound's not great either - it cuts out during You Know I'm No Good, and Rehab is partially obscured by my shouty 'singing along'. I'm posting them because they're wonderful to me - even through the LQ-everything, the power of her voice sends shivers down my spine - and I wanted to share them.

I've never heard her sing Tears Dry On My Own better - just listen to that I'll be some next man's other woman soon. Fuck Me Pumps makes my stomach flip - the unmistakeable outline of her, the way she moved. Of course there are countless superior recordings and videos - but I haven't been able to stop watching these since I found them. I can't look away.

1. Tears Dry On Their Own 2. Back To Black 3. Fuck Me Pumps 4. You Know I'm No Good 5. Rehab

Book review: The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes

2011-08-14T22:41:00.001+01:00

The Sense of an Ending (2011) by Julian Barnes

The Sense of an Ending is currently second favourite to win the 2011 Booker Prize, and it's typical of this sort of heavily lauded, critically acclaimed book. I don't necessarily mean that in a disparaging way, but I've noted before that the formula for award nominations and congratulatory reviews seems to be: well-established author + story featuring an ageing character looking back on events in their own life + much contemplation of the nature and significance of memory. This is a perfect example of the type.

The narrator is Tony Webster, who is now retired and considers his existence to have been, in the main, mediocre and uneventful, but also largely happy. In looking back on the events of his life, Tony returns repeatedly to the friends of his teenage years and the messy end of his first, largely chaste, relationship with the spiky Veronica. He initially presents his recollections of these experiences as largely accurate, but as the story progresses, we learn that all may not be as it appears - not because Tony is an unreliable narrator, at least not the type you normally encounter, but because he has excluded everything he wished to forget from his own memories. When he receives an unexpected and surprising bequest, he is forced to re-examine what he thinks he remembers about Veronica and his friends (particularly the precocious Adrian) and, in the process, begins to reconsider his whole identity, considering how his edited memories may have contributed to his character and choices.

I thought this short novel was beautifully written, and at the beginning I felt instantly compelled to read on. The idea of looking back on youthful friendships later torn apart, and slowly uncovering the reasons for this, is always an appealing one for me. Tony isn't the most likeable character of all time, but he's affable enough; his mediocrity and lack of ambition make him unthreatening, and perhaps easier to relate to than I'd like to admit. However, I was left confused by the ending. I won't go into what happens so as not to spoil it for any prospective readers, but there's a 'revelation' which seemed, to me, very much like a deus ex machina moment, and I didn't think either the event itself or Tony's reaction to it stood up to much analysis - which is perhaps why it had to be delivered right at the very end. (I also really wished Tony wouldn't keep referring to the... thing that he and Veronica would do in lieu of 'full sex'. Despite being far from explicit, it made me feel really queasy.)

Part of me would like to give this a higher rating, but I always have this slight bias against very short books. If they're poor anyway they feel totally pointless, and if they're good - like this one - I can't help but feel a bit cheated that the story wasn't more fleshed out, or that it finished when it did. In this case, I'd have liked to see more of the friends' schooldays and more pages from Adrian's diary, perhaps some of the aftermath of Tony's eventual discovery. That said, I did find Barnes's writing very beguiling, and I'd like to read more by the author at some point.

Rating: 6/10

August accessories

2011-08-12T12:08:00.001+01:00

1. Boots, £40 reduced from £100, Office
2. Ring, £10, Topshop
3. Boots, £20 reduced from £69.99, River Island
4. Ring, £2, Primark

Attempting to build up a store of A/W-appropriate stuff before the days of having any disposable income come to an end - rather like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter - I seem to have decided that accessories are the way to go. Makes sense, as at least they'll jazz up last year's jumpers and the same two pairs of skinny jeans. I've wanted the Office boots for A MILLION YEARS so couldn't pass up the chance to grab them for £40 when one size 6 pair (FATE) turned up on the website. The River Island ones, on the other hand, I just spotted on a table of random sale rubbish, and fell in love with the glorious kinda-awfulness of them. I am willing to accept that a large skull ring with three snakes on its head is not a Style Essential, but LOOK AT IT. How could I resist that?! And the Primark ring actually fits me... unlike the £25 Galibardy original I had to sell on eBay because it was too big.

Book review: Snowdrops by A.D. Miller

2011-08-10T20:37:00.000+01:00

Snowdrops (2011) by A.D. Miller

I actually bought this book several months ago; a handful of good reviews combined with the setting, Moscow (I've been fascinated with Russia since my teens, and wrote my university dissertation on the Russian presidency) piqued my interest, but somehow I never got around to reading it. I only remembered it after learning that it's one of the thirteen books on the longlist for this year's Man Booker Prize. Billed as 'an intensely riveting psychological drama', Snowdrops follows about a year in the life of Nicholas Platt, an English lawyer living and working in Moscow. A chance encounter with two young women, sisters Masha and Katya, develops into a friendship and, with Masha, a rather one-sided relationship. Nick agrees to help the girls' ageing aunt with the sale of her flat; at work, meanwhile, he is involved in a business deal with a shady character known only as the Cossack. The reader knows from the beginning that something or other is going to go wrong, as Nick narrates his story from a future perspective, and drops occasional hints that all is not as it seems - particularly with regards to Masha. All in all, I started this book feeling very intrigued about what turns the plot might take, and relishing the Russian setting. However, it turned out to be one of the biggest reading disappointments I've had all year.

The first stumbling block was the main character. Nick is far from likeable - immature, judgmental, sexist and sleazy, a grown man who looks down on his own parents; I think he's meant to represent the corrupting influence of modern Russia on a gullible Westerner, but it seemed more likely to me that he just wasn't a very nice person to begin with. At first, I felt his unpleasant attitude to women and apparent lack of experience with them (we learn he's only ever had one relationship, with a girl from university) were surely down to youth. I assumed he was in his mid-twenties at the very oldest, so it was a significant shock when his age was dropped into the narrative and it turned out he was 38! It's clear his 'love' for Masha is more of an obsession, but she does nothing to justify it - she's portrayed throughout as cold and almost characterless. I would have found her more interesting and perhaps even someone I could sympathise with, except there's no meat on the bones of the character. There's no suspense involved in figuring out that she's deluding Nick - it couldn't be more obvious.

The second issue was the narrative structure. For some unknown reason, perhaps in an an attempt to add an extra layer of intrigue to the plot, the author has chosen to relate Nick's tale in the form of a letter to his present-day fiancée, looking back on his time in Moscow. This is problematic on so many levels. The fiancée character isn't so much one-dimensional as nonexistent - I couldn't get any sense of who she was, and the device was so cursory it felt as though it had been tacked on after the rest of the book was already written. Apart from that, the story doesn't work as a letter - there's too much dialogue and detail, and I refuse to believe any man would be so rigorously committed to telling the truth that he'd fill a letter to his current partner with details of threesomes with strippers, how many times he'd paid for sex, how irresistably sexy he found his ex-girlfriend, how he occasionally fantasised about her sister, and so on. This all happened years before he met the fiancée, so it's not as if there's any need for Nick to 'confess', and it's obvious the author just didn't want to leave the sex out of the story and has used the conceit of Nick's absolute honesty to justify its presence. Furthermore, when the book ends with Nick lamenting his present 'thin life' and how much he misses Masha and Moscow, it's impossible to understand how on earth he could have ended up becoming engaged to this woman, let alone why he'd bother to sit down and write a lengthy, confessional document to her.

The only thing I really liked about Snowdrops was the setting. The frozen wastes, seedy clubs and shabby flats of Moscow were all evoked well and I enjoyed how the corruption and bribery spawned by Russia's history were shown to have invaded every aspect of the characters' lives. But on the whole, the book isn't particularly well-written (there's a lot of repetition - try counting how many times Nick says 'one of those...' or 'it was, I think, [name of month]') and for a story brimming with degredation and vice, it's somewhat lacking in action. In fact, nothing much happens at all. It can basically be summed up thus: some people pretend to be something they're not to get money out of an unpleasant man who thinks with his dick. Big deal! Nicholas isn't even particularly upset or affected by the loss of the money, so the final 'revelations', if they can be called that after the heavy-handed hints dropped throughout the rest of the novel, don't have much impact.

I do generally look upon the Booker as a benchmark of sorts; I've read a number of Booker-nominated novels I haven't liked much, but I have at least generally found them to be high quality, well-crafted and so on. I suppose this must have made it onto the longlist for the same reason the horrendously overrated Room was shortlisted last year (though that at least had a bit of media hype and controversial subject matter going for it). I just can't believe the panel would overlook something like Jane Harris's sublime Gillespie and I for this! But I suppose that's beside the point. Personally, I wouldn't recommend this book at all, though perhaps other readers with different tastes might get more out of it. It's certainly not the worst thing I've ever read, but even so, I think there's too many other good reads out there for it to be worth the time.

Rating: 4/10

Singles I bought on cassette, and other nostalgia

2011-08-07T23:57:00.000+01:00

A few 'remember that?' conversations on Twitter recently, with specific reference to various articles about 80s childhoods and 90s culture on Thought Catalog, have got me thinking about everything from my favourite childhood TV to my first attempts at 'rebellion' (smuggling teenage magazines into the house by stuffing them down my school skirt) and early feminist awakening (denouncing the same magazines as part of some conformist conspiracy). When Kirsteen tweeted a link to this article, I started trying to remember all the early singles I bought, when I didn't even have a CD player. I even turned out the drawers in the cellar to see if I still had them, but I could only find my mouldy old Spice Girls cassettes, so I must have thrown the rest away. So here's what I've been able to dredge up from my memory...

Dodgy - Good Enough This was the first single I ever bought with my own money. No idea why, as I don't remember being particularly into Dodgy, nor was I ever a huge fan of happy, jangly indie-pop. But I do remember loving the B-side; it was called Nutters and basically consisted of someone repeating 'fucking nutters' over some kind of ambient beat, which at the time I thought was ~so edgy~.
Also reminds me of: Space, my huge crush on Tommy from Space, my mum's Best of the Lightning Seeds album, the time my best friend and I were obsessed with Performance & Cocktails by the Stereophonics for a term or so, that awful New Radicals song that for some reason I absolutely hated.

Republica - Drop Dead Gorgeous Second single I ever bought, and the only one among the cassette singles by a band I really loved. I adored Republica's music, and can still remember the euphoria of getting their second album Speed Ballads as a Christmas present (1998), but the main crux of my obsession was their singer, Saffron. Oh, Saffron; I wanted to be her so much, I thought - and still do think - she was both stunning and incredibly cool. At the time, I would have killed for a black bob with bright red streaks. (Good job I never had the balls to go for it, because it would've looked bloody AWFUL on teenage-me.)
Also reminds me of: anything and everything else by Republica. I could probably still sing you every one of their songs, even the terrible album-filler ones.

North and South - Tarantino's New Star North and South were a boyband - but one of those supposedly cool boybands who played instruments and sang live. This was their second single, and I don't think they lasted much longer afterwards. My purchase of this was mainly down to the fact that I had a crush on both Lee Otter (the lead singer) and James Hurst (the guitarist with the multicoloured hair, who later had it cut into an extremely ill-advised triple mohawk). It's a rubbish song - where did they get those lyrics from, a radio recording star?! - but I can remember listening to it over and over and getting excited about the, er, 'guitar' bits. Oh dear.
Also reminds me of: Five. Remember them? Shamefully, their debut album was one of the first albums I bought on CD, but in my defence this was only because I fancied Abs (lol forever). In conclusion, I only ever liked boybands if I had a crush on one of them.

Meredith Brooks - I Need This was the follow-up to Brooks' first (and pretty much only) hit, the better-known Bitch. I can only imagine me and my friends' love for Bitch was the reason I bought this single, as it's not particularly notable. However, as with the Dodgy single, I was more preoccupied with the B-side, Every Time She Walks Away - probably because I liked to fantasise that it was about me, when in reality 99.5% of the boys at my school would rather have stabbed themselves in the face with a pencil than gone out with me in 1997.
Also reminds me of: the usual suspects... Alanis Morissette, Natalie Imbruglia's first album, Lisa Loeb's Stay (LOVE), Where Have All the Cowboys Gone.

No Doubt - Just a Girl Unlike many, I wasn't a No Doubt fan in the late 90s, and had little awareness of them beyond the huge popularity of Don't Speak. It was Just a Girl in particular that got to me. I suppose the lyrics are supposed to be about the restrictions automatically imposed on girls because of their gender, but they spoke to me in a different way. As a teenager frustrated by anxiety and what others saw as shyness, with so much more going on in my head than anyone else thought, it seemed like a description of the way I was incorrectly perceived by the rest of the world. I still really like this song.
Also reminds me of: Independent Love Song by Scarlet (not quite sure why - I think it's because I have their TOTP performance of this song mixed up with No Doubt doing Don't Speak. I think that frilly shirt/red satin blazer combo may have had some influences on my fashion choices at the time...)

I definitely think if you've been around on the internet as long as I have (I started my first website in April 2000) you do start to feel part of some sort of 'old guard'; my generation (probably my specific age range, give or take a few years, rather than a whole actual generation) seems like a strange kind of bridge since we're young enough to be all over social media in all its forms, but old enough to remember things like taping songs off the radio (having to pause with finger hovering over the record button), waiting for new music videos to be shown at the end of Top of the Pops, and, later, the soul-sapping slowness of dial-up internet and the days when it took 45 minutes to download one song. I didn't even have a mobile phone until I was 18, and it's impossible to imagine having everything at my fingertips like the 'kids of today' do. I don't exactly think technology has killed excitement but I can't help wondering how much anticipation there can be about anything when it's all available in seconds at the click of a button. While I'm now a fully paid-up member of the iPhone/Kindle/Twitter generation, I look back on those days of playing cassette singles until they crackled, making Spice Girls scrapbooks, and buying both versions of a CD single for the different B-sides with the sense that I wouldn't have had it any other way.

ASOS A/W

2011-08-03T21:23:00.003+01:00

A couple of weeks ago I - momentously - actually received a real life copy of the ASOS magazine. I've never been granted this privilege before, despite the fact that the first time I bought something from ASOS was in 2003. Anyway, I LOVE it - so beautifully styled and put together - and I'm now even more excited about the new season. This ASOS Heritage Coat is absolutely to die for and this Embroidered Cross Shirt HAS to be added to my wardrobe stat. Also on my buy-as-soon-as-possible wishlist for autumn/winter 2011: a skintight black pencil skirt and some of those slipper-style shoes.

Book review: Lucky Break by Esther Freud

2011-08-01T22:48:00.003+01:00

Lucky Break (2011) by Esther Freud

Lucky Break tells the story of a group of drama students. Starting with their first day at the prestigious Drama Arts college, the book follows the group for a period of 14 years - from 1992 to 2006 - and as it does so the focus narrows to three individuals. Nell, who emerges as the protagonist, is an average-looking, uncertain girl who harbours a burning passion to 'make it' but comes up against seemingly relentless barriers; Dan is a talented and determined actor who finds his career options hampered by the financial and emotional strain of an early marriage and four young children; Charlie is both stunning and gifted, but after some early success she becomes totally obsessed with the idea that she is losing her looks. The chapters alternate between characters - although Nell (who for some reason I couldn't stop picturing as Kate Winslet) receives a little more attention than the others - and move through the years, charting the actors' early struggles, successes, failures, and difficulties in reconciling their 'real' lives with their strange, difficult, and all-consuming profession.

The style is sparse, skipping over years of the characters' lives with only the scantest detail, but I found it oddly addictive. However, the lack of detail was a particular problem at the beginning, when the students of Drama Arts were first being introduced; I found it difficult to keep track of who everyone was and this meant there was little emotional impact when, for instance, Eshkol slashed his wrists, or star pupil Gabriel was spotted working as a waiter - I was too busy trying to remember who these people actually were. Whole relationships happen off the page, and we're given little glimpses of something really significant - the start of an affair (or is it?) - and then the narrative switches back to another character and the thread is lost. I couldn't figure out whether this was a great narrative device (is it better that we get to imagine our own versions of the characters' lives?) or just a frustrating cop-out. David Nicholls' One Day, despite being a more lightweight novel, did this much better, skipping significant periods in the characters' lives while still managing to imbue them with warmth and humanity. In contrast, I always felt like Nell, Dan and Charlie were kept at arm's length from the reader.

I often found myself thinking the description was clumsy, the characterisation obvious, the references to the 'outside world' (eg a couple of brief mentions of New Labour) desultory, what happened too predictable - but I kept coming back to the book, even when the only way I could read it was on the tiny screen of my iPhone, and was constantly surprised at how quickly I was flying through it. I do think Freud did a very good job of relating how hard and thankless acting really is; I don't know anything about it, of course, so for all I know the whole thing might be completely inaccurate, but I often felt like the book was really shining a light into the dark corners of a lifestyle regarded by most as seductive and glitzy. Though the characters all attained some success and glamour at one point or another, I never envied them. Indeed, Freud's portrayal of the actors' constant nerves on, off and backstage, before, during and after scenes, made it seem like my worst nightmare more than anything.

Still, given that Freud is a respected author who has written six or seven other novels, and that my desire to read this book was sparked by rave reviews in the Observer, Guardian and Telegraph, the style is remarkably amateurish. Something that struck me about the writing was that I honestly couldn't see any great difference between this and authors like, for example, Erin Kelly and Kate Morton, who'd be unlikely to be thought of as literary or to get much of a mention in the broadsheet review sections. This doesn't mean I thought the book was badly written - just that I expected something more impressive from such a lauded writer. If I hadn't known who wrote this, I definitely would have guessed it was a youthful debut penned by someone who'd been an aspiring actor for a couple of years.

I enjoyed reading Lucky Break, but I doubt it'll leave any great impression on me. A few hours after finishing the book, I'm already struggling to remember much about the characters. I often read popular chart fiction titles and am pleasantly surprised when they turn out to have more substance than I expected; this was the opposite - a supposedly literary novel, garlanded with praise by the critics, that was really rather light and fluffy. One to take on a lazy beach holiday or read on a train journey.

Rating: 6/10